Life After Taylah (9 page)

He whistles the tune as he dips me backwards and pulls me back up. Another two twirls, some more strutting and a final bow later and we’re on the sand, laughing so hard our bellies hurt. “I. Haven’t. Laughed. So. Hard. In. Forever,” I gasp, rubbing my stomach to try and ease it. There’s some serious knotting up going on.

“I’m good for some things, it seems.” He laughs, lying back in the sand. I lay back beside him.

“I’m kind of glad we became friends,” he admits.

“I make a pretty good friend,” I add.

“When you’re not sulking.”

“Hey!”

He laughs.

“No shit, Dancer. I’m pretty glad I met you.”

~*~*~*~

“Y
ou’re late,” Lena says, flicking the television off as I walk in.

“It’s only just past midnight,” I say, dropping my keys and kicking my boots off.

“I wanted you home so we could spend some time together. Instead you sent me home with Macy and left me to sit here all night.”

I stare at her, annoyed. “Can I ever just come in to you acting normal? Macy was tired; you
didn’t
ask me to come with you. You told me you would take her home. If you wanted me to come with you, then all you had to do was ask. I’m not a god damned mind-reader.”

“I said be home by midnight.”

“It’s quarter past!” I bark.

She crosses her arms. “Did you stay at the beach, or did you go elsewhere?”

I raise my brows. “You’re not going there, are you?”

“Well, you’re late and I know how the women are with you. They see you and they go crazy.”

“I was at the beach with the guys. There were no women.”

“Avery is a woman.”

I grunt. “Avery is their family.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s not an extremely attractive woman.”

I turn and walk down the hall. “I’m not having this conversation.”

She mutters something, but I don’t stop to listen. I walk into the room, slam the door and sit on the bed. My heart aches. I can’t explain the feeling of coming home to a woman that makes your heart throb in the worst possible way. Depression sinks deep into my soul when I’m here, and it’s slowly eating away at me. How do you find happiness when you’re so consumed by darkness?

I don’t know a way out.

I’m trapped.

N
ate:
No.

Avery:
Yes.

Nate:
Dancer. No.

Avery:
Nate. Yes.

Nate:
N.O.

Avery:
Y.E.S.

Nate:
Are you always so bossy?

Avery:
Mostly. Is that a yes?

Nate:
No.

Avery:
Don’t be such a baby.

Nate:
Bite me.

Avery:
Come here so I can.

Nate:
Nice try.

Avery:
You’re being difficult.

Nate:
You would have to kill me before I dressed up like a fuckin’ ballet dancer and spun you around.

Avery:
You don’t have to dress up. I just need you to help me so I can practice.

Nate:
No.

Avery:
Fine. This friendship is over.

Nate:
I’m so heartbroken. Hold me.

I laugh out loud.

Avery:
You’ll regret this, Nathaniel Alexander.

Nate:
I’m quaking in my boots.

Avery:
I’m going now. Probably to pick a poor homeless man off the street to beg him to be my dancing partner for the day. It could get messy.

Nate:
Stay safe. Make sure you get your Hepatitis shots.

Avery:
You’re awful.

Nate:
Call you later.

I snap my phone closed with a smile. Damned Nate.

For the past few weeks I’ve spent a lot of time with Nate. Our friendship is natural, easy, and carefree. There are no awkward pauses or times where I wonder if it’s forced. It just flows. We laugh, we talk, we joke—we get along so incredibly well. He tells me about his family, his wife, Macy, and his career. He’s the little bit of light in my life that I can hang on to with both hands, and not be afraid that it’ll break.

He’s helping me find myself again.

That’s worth hanging on to.

~*~*~*~

“J
esus, Bobby!” I cry, throwing my hands up.

My eighteen-year-old student, Bobby, stares at me with a confused expression. He’s trying to help me with my turns, but he’s just not strong enough yet. He’s been in the school two years and while he’s a great dancer, he’s just not up to the same level most dancers his age are. I don’t need a dancer, anyway; I just need someone strong to hold onto me so I can practice the moves I’m unsteady with.

“I’m trying, Avery,” he whines, crossing his arms. “You’re like a bull in a china shop.”

I raise my brows at him. “Do you even know what that means?”

He gives me an
are you serious
look and then rolls his eyes. Sheesh.

“It’s okay, I’ll practice on my own.”

“Fine,” he huffs exiting through the side door.

“That was entertaining!”

I spin around to see Nate, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his chest, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Oh, I’m glad you’re finding it entertaining. I can’t imagine you would understand how it feels to have a man who is not a
man
trying to help you when he can’t even hold your weight.”

His grin widens. Damn him.

“Don’t grin at me, Nathaniel. This is all your fault.”

He pushes off the wall and walks in, his shoes squeaking on the polished wooden floor. He stops in front of me, looks down at my tights and grins.

“Don’t even,” I warn.

“Sexy, Av.”

I cross my arms and glare at him.

“Well, you’re clear, there’s no camel-toe.”

I thump his arm. “You’re disgusting!”

He laughs and takes my hand, swinging me in a circle. “So, I’m here, I have an hour. What do you want me to do?”

I gape at him. “I thought there was no way in
fucking hell
you were dancing with me?”

He shrugs. “Changed my mind. Don’t make me change it back.”

“Fine,” I say, turning towards him. “I’m just trying to get my
petit allegro
right. It seems my teacher thinks my body isn’t the correct shape when I’m moving. I’ve been trying to get it right, but I need someone to hold, um, me . . . so I can get it right and focus on my posture and position.”

“Show me where I gotta hold,” he says.

My cheeks pinken; I can feel them right away. I didn’t think this through, because Nate will have to put his hands on me to do this. I don’t know why that bothers me, but it does. And when I say bothers, I mean the hot-and-bothered kind of way. I trust myself around Nate, and I trust him, but something about having his hands on me makes me very nervous.

“You know,” I squeak, “I can just use the bar.”

He raises his brows. “Hell no. You dragged me down here with a sob story about homeless men. You’re using me.”

“O-okay. Well, you just need to stand behind me.”

He comes around behind me and I can feel his body heat against my very aware flesh. This wasn’t a good idea. Not a good idea at all.

“A-a-and, just put your hands on my hips. When I go up, I need you to go with me, keeping the weight off my feet just a little.”

His hands settle on my hips and I stop breathing. I literally stop breathing. I can’t focus like this, and it bothers me. It bothers me that he’s bothering me.

“Are you going to dance any time soon?” he murmurs and his mouth is right near my ear.

“Uh, y-y-yeah,” I stammer.

I lift myself onto my toes, letting him test my weight.

“I’ll do a little jump up, just test my weight, see if it’s okay with you.”

He snorts but humors me by lifting me effortlessly when I jump.

“Okay, smarty-pants.” I laugh.

“Get on with it, Dancer.”

“Bossy.”

I close my eyes, raise my arms and begin moving my legs. It’s the only move I can’t seem to execute gracefully. I’ve done it from the start and I’ve practiced a lot. I’m nearly there, it’s nearly perfect, but to teach it I have to make sure it’s exactly how I want my students to do it. Nate lifts me as I move, almost as though he knows exactly when my body is going to jump. It’s effortless and smooth, and he’s extremely gentle.

“I see where you’re goin’ wrong,” he suddenly says.

I stop jumping and say, “Oh?”

“Lower back.”

Um, okay.

He presses his hand to my lower back, shoving it forward just slightly. Then he drops his hand from my hip and presses it into my front, supporting the entire area of my hips. There goes my breath again. His hand is splayed out against my belly. I close my eyes.
Focus, Avery.

“Now do it again,” he commands.

I do what he asks, and as I move he presses his hands in to keep my hips straight. The move does seem to come easier, and this surprises me. Could it be as simple as poor posture?

“You know,” he says, letting me go. “I have an idea. Come with me.”

I turn and stare at him. “Do I want to know?”

He grins and winks. “You sure do.”

~*~*~*~

S
he stares at me, then back to the pool, then back at me again.

“The pool?”

I grin at her and she smiles, showing me that cute-as-shit dimple in her cheek. She only has one.

“The pool,” I confirm.

“Because . . .”

I laugh. I brought her here because there is nothing better than practicing things in water. It’s light and it’s easy. Her brother has a pool in his shared apartment lot, and because we know him, we got in for nothing.

“Balancing is super easy in the water, now get in.”

She stares at me, lips parted.

“Don’t look at me like you’re about to chuck a fit. Get in.”

She straightens, grins and then charges at me. I don’t see it coming. She’s only tiny but she hits me so hard I lose my footing. I tumble backwards into the pool, but I make sure to take hold of her arm as I go. She comes in with me, screaming and laughing. The water is fucking freezing and I come up roaring. “Holy fucking shit!” I bellow, rubbing my arms.

Avery is laughing, her head is thrown back and her long blonde hair is fanning out in the water behind her. Fuck she’s beautiful, not just on the outside but on the inside. She’s been through so much yet she still has this light within her. I look away, knowing I shouldn’t be looking, knowing I shouldn’t care about her or even be helping her.

“Well, you got me in here,” she says. “What are we going to do?”

I turn back to her and swim over, gripping her hips and pulling her close. “Try again now.”

I spin her around and press her back to mine.
Fuck, stop thinkin’ about it, stop fuckin’ thinking about it
. I put my hand on her flat belly and the other on her back and then I order, “Go.”

She moves with such grace it’s beautiful. I’m a man, and beautiful isn’t in my vocabulary, but that’s the only way I can describe her. She practices until we’re both exhausted, but she turns to me with a smile. “You’re right. I think it’s all in my posture. Thanks Nate.”

I shrug. “Anytime.”

A cool wind comes past and she shivers. “It’s getting cold in here.”

“Yeah, we should get out.”

We both swim to the side but as she climbs up, I can’t fight the urge. I grip her hips and I hurl her backwards, tossing her into the water. She comes up laughing and spluttering. “You’re awful.”

I flash her a grin and go to climb out myself, but she lunges at me, hooking her arms and legs around me like a fuckin’ monkey and pulling me back. I lose my grip on the side and we both go crashing into the water. When we come up, she’s still laughing and goes to lunge at me again, but she sees something over my shoulder and stops. Color rises to her cheeks.

“Kelly, Liam.” She smiles. “Hey.”

I turn to see Kelly and Liam leaning against the gate, staring at us. Liam is glaring but Kelly has a concerned look on his face. He swings his eyes to me and narrows them.

“Avery, your dad called your phone a few times,” he says to her.

“Right, of course,” she says, quickly getting out of the pool.

“What were you doin’ in there?” I hear him ask her as she rushes past.

“Just practicing.”

He grunts and she disappears, yelling, “Thanks Nate, I’ll see you later.”

Nice.

I get out of the pool, pull a towel off the chair beside it and give Liam a glare as I walk past him. Kelly stops me just as I get to the garden. I’m guessing I’m about to get a lecture, probably the same lecture Liam is giving Avery right now.

“What’s goin’ on there, Nate?”

I give him the stink-eye—hard.

“What are you implying, Kelly?”

He leans his hip against the arch surrounded in colorful flowers. “You’re married.”

I stiffen and straighten. “When did you think I became unaware of that?”

“The moment you saw her.”

I narrow my eyes and cross my arms. “Avery and I have created a friendship, an innocent one. Since when was it not okay to be friends with a member of the opposite sex?”

He steps close. “Avery isn’t the kind of girl that can deal with heart break, Nathaniel. Just you remember that. She’s had a hard time; she’s not the kind of girl for you.”

“And she’s the kind of girl for you?”

His jaw tics. It’s obvious to me Kelly has or has had feelings for Avery. I’m going with the first option.

“I’ve known Avery for a very long time. I saw her suffer when her momma went missing. She’s complicated, she’s deep and she’s fragile.”

“That’s the problem with people like you,” I say, leaning forward and getting in his face. “You treat her like a child. She’s a grown woman who is extremely smart and funny. Maybe you should try being her friend—just like I am—instead of treating her like a wounded child and you might just see that.”