Page 36 of On Dancer
The quaint pale-blue living room was dominated by a tan couch with a matching ottoman, soft lighting, and a kitchenette along one wall with a fridge, microwave, and single-burner stovetop. I’d already decided to order food delivery from one of the few places in town that stayed open late, and a quick glance in Alexander’s nearly-bare fridge confirmed that choice.
Alexander stood behind me as if waiting for some sort of direction. Sending him to the couch would be the logical answer, but then my gaze landed on the door to the large L-shaped bathroom, which I’d used a time or two while swimming. Not only did it feature a door to the pool area and a separate shower and changing area for swimmers, but it also contained a good-size soaking tub perfect for spoiling guests and Alexander alike.
“Bathroom.” I steered him toward the bathroom. “Come on.”
“What are we doing?” He hesitated at the door, hand going to the zipper for his hoodie like he was unsure whether to remove it or hold it in place.
“Relax. Your virtue is safe.” I patted his fleece-covered shoulder. He still held his water bottle, which I plucked from his hand to set by the tub. “But I bet a long soak would feel good while I arrange for food.”
I didn’t wait for his agreement as I set about finding a jar of Epsom salts, starting the tub with the bath salts and some bubbles, and laying out a couple of towels and a conveniently located fluffy robe. In the spring and summer, the frosted window over the tub would look out over Elaine’s prized flowers, but on this dark mid-December night, only a few twinkles of lights from the main house pierced the darkness. Luckily, someone had left a row of flameless candles near the tub, which I turned on for a relaxing vibe.
“I’ll order the food.” I left him to his bath. After placing the order on my phone, I used the wait time to make him a cozy nest on the couch. He liked that at my place when I draped him with my heated throw blanket and arranged pillows around him. The pool house lacked my collection of thrift store linens, but the linen closet yielded a cashmere throw that might as well be spun from clouds, along with a sherpa-style blanket that was undoubtedly softer than a literal sheep.
I lowered the lights and placed a tray on the ottoman for the food, which was minutes away according to a quick check of my phone. As I pocketed my phone, Alexander emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in the robe. He gave a tired but genuine smile as he took in the living room changes.
“You’re too good to me.” His tone was pleased as he let me settle him on the couch under the blankets. He smelled like eucalyptus and rosemary, and the little droplets of waterclinging to his neck above the collar of the robe made me want to lick him there.
“You deserve someone to take care of you.” I distracted myself from licking impulses by fluffing a throw pillow for his head. “You worked hard today.”
“I’m not as nice as you.” He pulled his knees up to his chest under the blankets, looking far younger than thirty-four and more contemplative than usual. “I say the wrong thing a lot. I forget to be kind and say thank you. Stuff like that.”
“You’re kind and say thank you to me.” I wasn’t going to lie to him. He could be blunt, and occasionally, his inward focus meant his empathy tank ran low, but he wasn’t an unkind or rude person.
“Maybe you’re special.” Alexander let out a yawn followed by a belly rumble. “Guess I really am hungry.”
Continuing to process the comment that I was special, I checked my phone. “Food’s almost here. You wait here, and I’ll dish up your soup.”
Special.Alexander found me special. That, coupled with the earlier kiss, had to count for something. I floated my way out to meet the delivery person in the rear driveway before plating the food for us both.
“You ordered me soup?” Alexander sounded charmed.
“I figured you needed something easy to eat and digest.” I’d been around enough dancers in my life to know eating habits could vary wildly and sometimes superstitiously on performance weeks, but soup had seemed like a safe enough bet. “One of the restaurants in downtown Hollyberry does a really comforting chicken soup, and their kitchen is open late.”
I arranged the two bowls of thick, creamy chicken and noodle soup along with the provided bread on the tray I’d found earlier, adding glasses of water and some napkins to round out thepresentation. My own stomach grumbled at the meaty scent as I took a seat next to him on the couch.
“Oh, this is perfect.” Fortified by a few bites of soup, Alexander gave a happy wriggle, shoulder grazing mine. “I’ve never had this before.”
“The soup?” It was good, lots of chunks of chicken along with carrots and potato pieces, but Alexander surely had encountered chicken and noodles at some point in his world travels.
“Someone to fuss over me who isn’t related or paid.” He more deliberately bumped shoulders with me, his smile going softer.
“That’s sad.” I shook my head, unable to return the smile because I was too busy thinking of dire fates for Alexander’s ex-lovers. “You’ve dated before. Surely one of them knew how to take care of you after a performance?”
“You’d think, but most of the time, it’s been someone similarly wrapped up in the production. Other dancers generally have their own needs and are managing their own adrenaline drop. “
“Well, maybe you should think about dating a non-dancer.” I gave him a pointed look.
“You certainly make a convincing case.” Alexander offered a rare blush, eyes dropping as if he too was recalling the earlier kiss. I’d make more of a case for myself after he was fed. He took another bite before asking, “And how about you? Why don’t you already have someone to dote on? That teacher can hardly be the only offer you’ve had.”
“You’d think.” I echoed his world-weary pragmatism. “I’m a short, skinny nerd more concerned with gaming than partying or things like dating apps. I haven’t exactly been drowning in potential boyfriends.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Alexander ruffled my hair with a light touch. If all it took to unleash playful Alexander was soup and a bath, I would have thrown him in a tub weeks ago.“You’re amazing. Friendly. Thoughtful. Great dimples. You’re a catch.”
“I tend to be oblivious, I guess.” Where Alexander could blush with the faintest tinge of a pretty rose shade, I tended toward bright red with pizza-oven heat to match. I placed a hand on my flaming cheek. “I suppose there have been a few chances for more than making out, but nothing ever felt quite right.”
“Wait for it to feel right.” Alexander’s tone turned urgent as he set his now-empty soup bowl back on the tray. His gaze met mine, and cherry-red cheeks or not, no way was I looking away.
“What if it already does?” I whispered. He didn’t break eye contact, so for the second time that day, I leaned in. As earlier, I moved slowly, preferring he meet me halfway or give me some sort of signal that my kiss was welcome. Alexander ran a hand over my hair, sifting the strands before trailing his fingers to my jaw. Emboldened, I dipped my head to press a kiss to his fingers.
