Page 28 of On Dancer
“Thank you,” I said again instead of telling him all the other ways I’d like him to fuss. Friends. We were friends. He didn’t want to kiss again, and after his story of his doubly bad first times, I wasn’t going to beg for a repeat. I’d take the coffee and smile.
“Nervous about the reporter?” Alexander asked as he picked up the folder I’d labeled for her visit.
“Maybe a little.” It was easier to admit to that than to tell him my worries about my future. “She’ll be here around one.”
“Don’t be worried.” Alexander gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. A friendly touch that in no way should have made my stomach quiver. “Tavio will charm the reporter enough for allof us, and Cheryl and I will give her some good rehearsal footage before she visits some of the children’s classes.”
“You’re right.” I smiled up at him, but my acting chops weren’t quite as good as his, and he frowned again.
“You seem down.” He narrowed his gaze. “Do I need to let you win tonight?”
“No.” I gave a genuine grin at the reminder that we’d play again after rehearsal tonight. Maybe all we were destined for was friendship, but there was no reason not to enjoy our time together while we had it. My worries could wait.
“Alexander!” His mother swept into the office, followed by my mother. Each toted a coffee cup. Elaine set her cup on my mother’s desk so she could hug Alexander. “Margie and I couldn’t find a single seat at the coffee house, so we came back here for our chat.”
“You’re not usually in the office.” My mother studied Alexander with no small amount of curiosity. Her gaze flickered between his cup and the one on my desk, missing nothing. “Did you need something?”
“Just checking on the time for the reporter’s visit and bringing our favorite assistant some coffee.” He clapped me on the shoulder, already backing toward the doorway. “I should get ready for rehearsal. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Alexander is bringing you coffee these days?” My mother’s eyes were wide but not displeased.
“I didn’t know you two were friends.” Elaine leaned toward me, smile taking on a conspiratorial gleam. “Tell me everything.”
“We’re… That is…” I stumbled and bumbled through a few false starts before swallowing hard and muttering, “It’s just coffee.”
“Indeed.” Elaine turned back toward my mother, who had settled herself in her office chair. “Margie, I think you should come for Christmas Eve.”
“I can’t let you host again.” My mother gave a faint frown as Elaine took over one of the spare chairs.
“I insist.” She tapped the heel of her boot against the floor for emphasis, glancing over at me. “You too, Rudy.”
“Um. Okay.”
I had no idea why Elaine was so interested in my holiday plans. I didn’t want to dwell on our mothers’ curiosity any more than I did on my earlier worries, so I threw myself back into work until it was time to meet with the TV reporter and her cameraperson. Both women had smiles straight out of a dental ad and nearly identical blond hair, but the camerawoman had biceps that possibly rivaled Alexander’s muscle definition. The reporter had worn a ballet-pink sweater set for the occasion and was full of all the right questions during the tour of the school.
Our tour ended with an introduction to Tavio and Irina and a demonstration from Cheryl and Alexander.
“Show your variation,” Tavio urged Alexander. He nodded simply before striding to the center of the studio. He usually wore fairly casual dance clothes for rehearsal, including an impressive rotation of colored T-shirts, but today, he’d gone for a more classic look with a fitted white T-shirt, black tights, and black ballet slippers. He looked every inch the regal principal dancer as Tavio cued his music, right down to his haughty nod for the camera.
And then, he danced. Or perhaps, more accurately, he soared, spun, and utterly came alive in front of us. The whole thing was over in a matter of moments, but it was more than enough to remind me of a few truths. Alexander had the rarest of gifts. I’d been around dance my whole life and never seen anything quite like him. That he was loaning his talents to Hollyberry for this production was incredible because he was meant for the grandest of stages.
Definitely not meant for me, a short, skinny nerd who’d stayed close to home his whole life. I needed to stop daydreaming about a repeat kiss because I might as well dream of waltzing with the sun. It wasn’t going to happen.
Later, as the reporter and her camerawoman packed up their things while chatting more with Tavio and Irina, Alexander strode over to me, only mildly sweaty after his show, but his swagger was in full force.
“Think your reporter was impressed?” he asked as if he already knew my reply.
“I’d hope so.” I chuckled, then gave him the praise he was so clearly angling for. “You’re magnificent. Your jumps were about as perfect as I’ve ever seen. I wish the fourth graders could have seen your hang time in the air as well.”
“Thank you.” He offered an arch smile before turning slightly more humble. “And thank you for not following the compliment with a question about my knee.”
“I trust you to know your body.” I was curious about how the rehab was coming, of course, and I made no secret of enjoying taking care of him. Caretaking was different from hovering, though, and I knew Alexander well enough to know that he worried enough about his body for all of us. If he felt ready to dance, then I’d trust him. He had enough other people asking him pointed questions about his readiness and future, something I was well acquainted with. I grinned at him. “I’m happy just to sit in awe of your talent.”
“It’s nice to have someone who believes so thoroughly in me.” He quietly held my gaze, and something potent passed between us, not attraction, although that was ever-present on my side at least. But perhaps respect or a deepening of our friendship.
However, I had plenty of friends, and none of them made me tremble quite like Alexander. I’d never had this type ofconnection with anyone, and it was wonderful and terrible all at once.
“Alexander?” The reporter waved us over to where she stood by the door. “One last question?”
