Gavin: Pure Passion (Hamptons Book 1) (15 page)

His kisses get deeper, make me sigh, and finally I can’t resist any longer. I let him lift me up while our lips melt together. I place my hands on his back and feel his muscles, which don’t even twitch under my weight, but only move when he strokes my back.

His fingertips explore my upper body until he slides them under my top. His fingers are like hot iron, burning me wherever they touch. The tip of his tongue glides into my mouth, playing with mine gently. Then he breaks the kiss and feels for the edge of my top, and pulls it off over my head. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, gazing at my body. I reach down and untie the cord on his sweatpants.

Suddenly he sets me back on my feet. “Wait here, I . . . have to go get a condom.”

“OK.”

Gavin kisses my forehead, then leaves the room at a run. This is the chance for me to run for it. I know if I don’t, I’ll fall for him for good. I put my top back on quickly, run into the bathroom, where I shove my clothes into my sports bag, and put it on my shoulder. I grab my purse and leave the room, scampering. Hopefully nobody will see me.

As soon as I’m outside, I run down the driveway.

“Lane!” I hear Gavin calling after me.

I won’t listen to him. No, I just run faster. I drop my sneakers, but I ignore them because I’m afraid he’ll catch up with me if I stop to pick them up. How did that frigging Cinderella story go?

“Lane, wait!”

How could he follow me so quickly? His voice sounds far away, but I’m done for if he gets in his car.

With a stitch in my side and panting breath, I reach the gates that are being opened for me. I leave the property as fast as I can, just barely slipping out of the opening. Now I have to reach the bus stop before he catches me. All that matters is that I get away from here.

My phone starts ringing as I’m sitting in the bus. I check the display. It’s Jonah. “Hey. Meet you soon at the dancing school? I’m already on the way there.”

“Hi, Lane. I’m on the way, too. When will you be there?”

“I guess in half an hour or so, you?”

“In an hour, probably. I was in a traffic jam in the middle of Manhattan, and then again going out of the city. It messed up my time management.”

“I’ll just practice my solo until you’re there,” I answer.

“All right, see you later, Lane.”

“See you, Jo.” I hang up and am about to put my phone back in my purse, when I notice a new WhatsApp message. How had I not seen that before? I open it and see a picture of my shoes.
Why did Cinderella run away?
Gavin wrote. I take a deep breath
before sending him the following message:
Because Cinderella realized she and the prince were making a mistake.

His status changes to “online” and finally to “typing . . . ,” and then I have his answer.
If these shoes fit you, you owe me a date. I won’t be denied, I insist ;-)

“Fuck,” I utter with a heavy sigh. I lean my head on the window and look outside. As though to match my mood, rain starts falling. A date with Gavin would surely be incredible, but also exhausting, because I’d constantly have to resist him.
And wasn’t that successful today?
I think ironically. I just can’t do it. How can I manage not to give in? I have no idea. I can’t just think of something off-putting for hours on end. I close my eyes, feeling desperate.

I reach the Dance Academy sopping wet and go inside. Luckily I’ve packed two of everything, apart from the leggings I forgot.

“Hi, Madeleine,” Cynthia, the receptionist, says, welcoming me.

I smile at her. We used to take lessons together. “Hi, Cynthia. Is room five free?”

She nods at me. “It is. Just a moment, I’ll give you the keys.” She begins rooting through a drawer. The keys used to be pinned to a board, no idea why they discontinued that.

She hands it over and I thank her.

“Do you need a shower? You’re sopping wet.”

“Oh, may I?” I ask.

“Yes, in the changing rooms. I’ll give you the key for a private one, you’ll find towels there.”

“Great, thanks, Cynthia.”

Finally I have the second key, too, and have memorized the way there. Chilled through because of the wind and rain, I finally reach the changing room. I peel off my wet clothes and lay them over the radiator to dry. Then I step into the shower.

When I get out ten minutes later, I’m feeling warmer.

After getting dressed, I leave the changing room with a CD in my hand. For my solo, I’m going to dance to “One Last Wish”
from
Casper
. Ballet choreography. It’ll be the first time in years that I dance ballet in public.

I reach the ballet room five minutes later. I put the CD in the stereo and start the song. Then I sit down on the floor and put on my pointe shoes. As soon as they’re laced up around my legs and tied with a bow, I begin dancing. I move from a pirouette into a jump. I’m finding it difficult to do the moves that Jonah came up with, since this was one of Brooke’s favorite songs.
Casper
was her favorite movie.

A second jump, but I don’t land right and fall. I stay on the ground and start crying. I can’t do it.

A few minutes later, I feel arms picking me up and hugging me. “What happened, Lane?” Jonah asks with concern.

“I just can’t do it,” I sniffle.

“Do what?”

“I can’t dance to this song, it’s not possible.”

“Do you mean your solo?”

“I mean this song in general.”

He sighs. “We can make this work together, OK? We’ll dance everything together, and for all I care we can change the steps and do everything freestyle.”

“Does it have to be this song?” I say, feeling frazzled.

“You wanted this song, remember? You said you felt so connected to it.”

“I remember, but maybe we can change it.”

“You’re a strong girl, Lane, you’ll rock this,” Jonah tries to encourage me, pulling me to my feet. “But we’ll turn it into freestyle, OK? Maybe we can get a medley of the songs from the movie, how about that?”

I take a deep breath as he wipes away my tears with a tissue. “Freestyle sounds good, but the medley not so much.”

“Then it’ll be this song. It’s no shame if you cry. She was your best friend, OK?”

I nod at him.

Jonah kisses me on the forehead. “That’s the Lane I know.”

“The crying, sniffling one?”

“The strong, courageous one,” he corrects me with a smile.

I return his smile tentatively, but I feel like I must be grimacing pretty badly.

“I’ll get dressed and then we can start, OK?”

“OK.”

“See you soon.”

“Wait, I was offered one of the private changing rooms, you can get dressed there, too, if you want.” I get out the key and hand it to Jonah.

“Thanks, Lane.”

Chapter 10

It’s Friday, and I’m shopping with Pax. Luckily, I managed to put off the plans for yesterday by telling Gavin I’d come down with the flu. We’ll just have to make it work somehow at the dress rehearsal. Jonah and I chatted a lot while we practiced, and he asked me for a second chance again, but I declined. The TV station rescheduled my rehearsals to early evening because they needed the studio at noon today.

My parents weren’t exactly thrilled that I stayed home yesterday, but what was I supposed to do? I can’t jump headfirst into something that I know will break my heart. Dad and Etienne both agree that I think too much and should try listening to my heart instead. While I’m waiting for Pax, who is currently in the fitting room, I mull it all over. I haven’t done anything else for the last few days.

“Gosh, the people you meet here. Hi, Lane,” Alexis, Gavin’s bandmate, greets me.

“Hey, Alexis. How are you?”

“Good, you?” He sits down next to me and regards me with a smile.

“Not so great.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh . . . Gavin, my ex-boyfriend, the show . . . Right now I just feel like running away.”

He sighs empathically. “What happened with Gavin?”

I shake my head. “He’s . . . great, as usual. It’s more what his presence does to me.”

“Are you in love with him?”

I stare at him mutely.

“Boy, is she ever,” Pax chimes in, amused, as he comes over to join us. “Hi, I’m Pax.”

“Nice to meet you. Alexis.”

“Hey,” Pax replies. “Lane, I’m pretty much done here. I’m buying the jeans, but the shirt’s too tight. I don’t want to look gay.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Are you a homophobe, or what?” I ask, bemused.

“Oh, you know what I mean. I don’t want to wear a skintight shirt.”

“Then go get two sizes bigger,” I suggest. “But watch your tongue.”

Alexis chuckles next to me. “I’ll second that.”

Pax disappears into the gentlemen’s section with a mischievous grin that makes him look a lot younger.

“What brings you here, Alexis?”

“Oh, we drove to the city with Gavin so we can support him tomorrow. Linden’s running around here somewhere, too. The others stayed at the Plaza.”

I nod. “Sounds good.”

“Maybe you’d like to go out with us tomorrow night?” he asks.

“Sorry, I can’t, I already told Pax I’d do something with him.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” he inquires, looking at me with caramel-colored eyes.

“No, we were high school sweethearts, but we broke up before we graduated. We’re just friends now,” I explain, although I owe him just as little of an explanation as I owe Gavin.

“I see.”

“Lane?” Pax calls.

“Excuse me. I need to get going,” I say.

“See you soon, Lane.”

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Alexis. Bye.”

When I arrive where Pax is standing, he gives me a questioning look. “This one or this one? I can’t decide.” He shows me a black shirt with white pinstripes and a white one with black stripes.

“I like the black one better. Are you buying it to go with the jeans?”

“Yeah. I thought a white T-shirt under that wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Then try it on.”

“OK.” He takes off his jacket and shirt, under which he’s wearing a white tee, and then he slips into the black shirt again. It really suits him well.

I nod at him as he gives me another questioning look. “Looks great on you.”

“Finally,” he sighs, taking it off again.

“The one before looked good, too, but it was too tight.”

“Yeah, and they don’t have that one in a bigger size.”

“So let’s go pay so I can finally get out of here.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

When he reemerges from the fitting room in his own clothes, we go to the register and he pays for his clothes. “Want to grab a coffee?”

“Sure, why not? We can leave the bags at my place and then we can go ahead to the studio, because there’s a café there with the best coffee ever.”

The café is diagonally across from the TV studio where they’re filming
CDH
. I’ve already finished my cappuccino and the sandwich Pax forced me into buying.

“You’re still trying to figure out what you want, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly.

I give him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Well, you seem like you haven’t made a definite choice yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say with a grin.

“You don’t know yet what you want. Pro career or quiet life. Love life or work life,” he says pensively. “Can I tell you something?”

I nod tersely.

“Don’t look for a path to follow—make your own, Lane.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re trying to tell me,” I say with a laugh.

“I want you to be happy, and I can see that isn’t the case right now. I’m just giving you the advice to make your own path, because if you do what all the others ask of you, then everybody will be happy . . . except for you,” Pax says thoughtfully.

I smile and put my hand on his. “Thanks, Pax.”

He returns my smile. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Lane. It’s just the truth.”

I lift my gaze to the clock over the counter. “I should get going.”

“Should I wait for you here?”

“It’s going to take at least two hours until I’m done. If you want, drive to my place. Macey knows you’ll be staying with us.” I hand him my keys. “But make sure you’ll be there, OK? Or I’ll be standing in front of a locked door.”

Pax takes the keys and puts them in his jacket pocket. “Sure, will do.”

I put a five-dollar bill on the table, then lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek. “See you later.”

“See you.”

I leave the café and walk toward the TV studio.

“Hey, Lane,” Gavin says as I’m about to enter the down elevator.

“Hey.”

The doors close, and I can feel his gaze on me. “Shall we leave out the lifts?”

“We can practice tomorrow before the show to get them in, if you want.”

“That’s going to be too tight if we want to do something special.”

“No, we’ll stick with the easy lifts.”

“I checked out some dance videos on YouTube
and practiced on my own since you weren’t there yesterday,” he tells me.

“You’re good; it isn’t terrible if we leave out a day of training.”

“I’m not good enough to get a lift right without practicing first.”

“Sure, I think we can do that easy one no problem.”

The doors slide open and we leave the elevator. “We need to do the fitting first, you know that, right?” I ask.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So let’s go.”

We take the same direction to find the costumier. They make new costumes for every show. We all need to have them take our measurements to make sure that everything fits perfectly. When we reach the costumier, she gives us a look of relief. “I was worried you wouldn’t be coming.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Gavin asks. “Our dress rehearsal was postponed, that’s why we’re a bit later.”

“Ms. Dubois, I have your costume here.” She hands me a red sequined dress with a criminally low-cut neckline, but I hardly mind. I’m used to dancing in this sort of clothing. But I know it’ll bother my parents again. I also get a white trench coat to go with our opening scene. “And here’s your costume, Mr. McLeod.” She hands him black trousers and a vest with pinstripes made of the same red sequins, and he also gets a trench coat, but a black one, and a hat in the same color. “Please try on your costumes next door, and if something doesn’t fit, give me a call and I’ll pin and alter it for you.”

“Great,” I reply, nodding at Gavin to follow me.

“Wow, you look stunning,” he says admiringly as soon as he lays eyes on me.

I look down at myself. “Thanks, but I’m still missing the shoes.”

“Here they are!” the seamstress calls. The team was chosen between seasons, and I just can’t seem to remember her name.

“Thanks,” I say as she hands me the shoes. They’re red sandals with two-inch heels. Higher ones aren’t common with dancers because after a certain point it starts looking ridiculous.

“Those look high,” Gavin observes.

“They aren’t,” I counter as I slip into them. “They’re just right.”

“So, shall we, then?”

I nod and take the hand he offers me. I hope we do well with the rumba, or we can forget Saturday night.

As we arrive at the studio, we’re greeted by Felix. Luckily, Gavin and I worked out a little intro together while we were practicing. I have to act the part of the abandoned lover, standing at the edge of the dance floor, crying, while he tries to cheer me up with the dance. “There you are. The song change was a bit difficult to get in, but the band managed it in the end,” Felix says.

“Great, thanks,” Gavin answers with a smile and looks at me.

“Let’s start again for Gavin and Madeleine!” Felix calls as we take up our positions.

I step in front of the jury’s table and utter a fake sob before the music starts. Then I take a tissue from my coat pocket and act as though I’m wiping away my tears. Just in time for the third measure, Gavin appears next to me and cups my face in his hands. He shakes his head as I look at him and carefully pulls me out onto the dance floor. I follow him with swinging hips until he stops and opens the belt on my trench coat. He takes it off as he walks around me and throws it aside. We get right into the basic steps without the basic pose while he also takes off his coat and throws it to the other side of the dance floor. Then he grabs my hand and pulls me into the basic pose without breaking stride. I try to look more cheerful with every step while Gavin keeps looking at me in the same emotionless way. That was the plan.

In the end we even manage the lift that we only practiced once so far, and then he sets me back on my feet, swings me around, and pulls me into an embrace. I look up at him, he tilts his head to kiss me, and I twist out of his arms. Then I run away.

My colleagues applaud us. “That was great, Lane!” Stan, one of the professional dancers, calls.

“Thanks!” I reply, returning with a smile. “You danced wonderfully,” I say, turning to Gavin.

“But only because of you,” he says cheerfully. “It worked just fine without the lifts, too, don’t you think?”

I nod at him. “Yeah, the last one was good; we should keep it that way. It will be fine.”

“If you dance like that again tomorrow, you’ll definitely get into the next show,” Davina, one of my colleagues, tells us with conviction. “Don’t forget we’re about to rehearse the opening ensemble dance, Lane.”

“I’m just going to get changed,” I reply and look back at Gavin. “See you tomorrow.”

“I’ll stay and watch your dance if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” I give him another smile before returning to the dressing room with Davina.

“Jeez, that guy is
so
crushing on you,” she says.

“What? Who?” I ask, taken by surprise, not having expected a conversation. She doesn’t talk much normally.

“Gavin McLeod. He didn’t look at Julie like that.” She grins at me.

“Oh . . . he didn’t?” Why should I tell her I had sex with Gavin? I could just as well pin it to the notice board.

“No. He seemed rather annoyed by her, which is why it’s kind of funny that she had an accident, don’t you think?”

I cock an eyebrow. “I find it hard to believe he planned it that way. It was an accident, because he’s really pretty insecure with lifts. We did just one because he was afraid he’d hurt me, too,” I explain to her, feeling protective of Gavin.

“In my opinion he did it on purpose,” she replies.

“What? Why would he do that? In my opinion, you’re wrong.”

“Why? Do you have something going with him?” she inquires.

I laugh out loud, and I’m glad it sounds neither artificial nor overdone. “No, should I? I only dance with him, that’s all.”

We reach the changing room, where our costumes are hung up and ready. We each have our own dress, but I can’t find mine. “I need to find the seamstress, mine is missing.”

“OK.”

I go pick up my dress, and then I get changed, as well. Luckily it fits like a glove, but it’s even shorter than the one I was just wearing. It has a skirt made only from fringes, and there are more of them all over the dress.