Waking Kiss Page 15

  “Not now,” I said. “Some other time.”

  He ignored me, entering and sliding into the chair across the table. “Travis has left to take Little Ishi home.”

  “That’s not her name. Stop calling her that.”

  He said nothing, only stared at me with great forbearance.

  I steepled my fingers and leaned my forehead against them. “Okay, give it to me. I’m ready for my lecture. Say whatever you need to say, whatever will get you fucking gone.”

  “I only wonder what you are doing to her in this room.”

  “What I’m doing doesn’t concern you. It doesn’t concern anyone but Ashleigh and me.”

  He inclined his head in slow agreement. “I do not wish to pry. But just now, when she left, she was very upset.”

  “Was she? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Mem smiled patiently at my bitter joke. I hated when he looked at me like that, like I was the world’s biggest, stupidest asshole. “We had a fight, okay?” I said, hiding my agitation in a casual shrug. “People fight. They have arguments. Me and her…” My voice trailed off, because I was about to lie to him. “We aren’t anything alike. We probably won’t be hanging out much anymore.”

  He absorbed my lies with a thoughtful, probing expression. “You know,” he said quietly, “the world won’t end when you open your heart to someone. Nothing catastrophic will happen.”

  He was treading too close to a line he wasn’t allowed to cross. “That doesn’t apply here,” I said. “This has nothing to do with my heart.”

  “What about her heart?”

  “What about it?”

  “Are you being careful with it?”

  Mem and his fucking questions. “I told her the deal from the beginning—I don’t want anything to do with her heart.”

  “Ah, the familiar refrain. No hearts, no love. No feelings.” He heaved a sigh, tilting his head at me. “You must let go of your past, Ishi. Too many years now, you’ve been punishing yourself, and now you’re punishing her.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I groaned, burying my head in my hands. “How many fucking times do I have to say it? I’m trying to help her.”

  “If you truly wish to help her, you must first make peace with what happened to you. Just as the storm must crash before the flowers bloom—”

  “Mem, no.” I ground my fists into my eyeballs. “No storms, no flowers. Stop. This isn’t about me, not in the slightest. She has issues, okay? She came to me for her issues, to help her with her issues, but they’re her issues. That’s all this is about.”

  “She is not the only one who has issues, my son.”

  “I’m not your son. I’m nobody’s son, as you well fucking know.” I was finished with this conversation and his goddamn interfering ways. “Get out. Just get out and fucking leave me alone. And if she comes back, tell her… Tell her…”

  “Tell her what?” Mem asked, rising to stand behind his chair.

  Yes, tell her what, Liam? That this is starting to feel too risky? That she hurt your pride? That you’re a fucking loser who’s afraid of falling in love with her?

  “Tell her I’m finished playing games,” I said roughly. “She’ll know what I mean.”

  Chapter Twelve: Drama

  I didn’t want to visit Liam Wilder any more. I decided our thing was weird and inappropriate, and unlikely to work anyway. I busied myself doing other things, whatever it took to keep my mind off the idea of going back again. By the second week of January I’d prepped enough pointe shoes to last me until summer, so many pointe shoes that the costume department cut off my supply.

  I took up knitting instead. Dancers loved legwarmers. I made about twenty pairs of the fuckers, until people started looking at me funny. Now I’d moved onto working crossword puzzles late into the night, backstage in the dressing room, because otherwise I’d be in my apartment staring up at the branches of his bed.

  If I didn’t stay busy I’d run back to Liam and beg his forgiveness, beg for another chance, another wrenching session in his pale blue room, and I didn’t know if I could survive it. Still, some part of me wanted him to come get me, storm over to my place and drag me from my bed of branches. I wanted him to keep helping me—because he had been helping me—but it was so painful to do things his way. Too painful. I couldn’t hack it.

  I wanted him to force me but he wouldn’t. I thought if he could just force me through my first experience, I’d realize it wasn’t so bad and I’d be cured. What good was a dominant who didn’t force you to do the stuff you didn’t want to do?

  At least there was Rubio and our times in the studio. He saved me from myself, from the shoes and crosswords and leg warmers, even if he was a holy terror to work with. My phone buzzed and I looked down. After three weeks I still hoped for Liam’s name, but it was always Rubio.

  Ashlee. Cum practice.

  I shoved the crossword puzzle into the top drawer of my carrel and grabbed my bag. When I got to the rehearsal room I flung it in a corner. “If you don’t stop spelling ‘come’ like that I’m going to stop helping you. I’m serious. It’s not funny anymore.”

  He stretched out at the barre. “I think it’s funny.”

  “It’s not funny, it’s gross. And my name is spelled Ash-leigh. L-E-I-G-H.”

  “That is a stupid way to spell Ash-lee. I spell it how I like.”

  I groaned and dragged my hands down my face. He stared at me with a frown. “Why you so grumpy, girl?”

  I started warming up, trying to remember that this was the dream of a lifetime. I was working with Fernando Rubio. A few short months ago I couldn’t even look him in the face. If he wanted to text me to “cum” just to annoy me, what did it matter? I moved to join him at the barre, muttering an apology.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Oh. I thought maybe you on your period.”

  “I’m not on my period.”

  “Here, I’ll help,” he said when I started stretching. He stood in front of me and pressed back on my leg to offer resistance. Dancers did this kind of stuff but Ruby always enjoyed it a little too much. Today he gave up any pretense of doing it with platonic intent and pressed his crotch against my front until my leg was curled over his shoulder. If we were naked, we’d be having sex.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, although it was pretty obvious.

  “Grinding my cock on you.”

  “Why?”

  He stepped back, pouting, and gestured for my other leg. “I thought you and Liam are not exclusive. Not a couple.”

  “We’re not. That doesn’t mean I want you sexually harassing me.”

  “Not sexual harassment,” he said petulantly. “Stretching.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  He pressed back on my leg just enough to loosen it up. He might be a pervert, but he was an excellent stretch partner. He backed away and I brought my leg down to place it beside his on the floor. We stood like that a moment and then he tapped me with his heel.

  “Hey, girl. You want to do this ballet? Do with me for the spring showcase, and the summer tour?”

  “Sure. I said I’ll help as long as you need me.”

  “No, I mean, do it. For shows.”

  I stared at him. “What?”

  “I mean, perform it. Do the ballet. With me onstage. People clap at the end, etcetera.”

  I scrutinized his expression to see if he was teasing me but he wasn’t. He made a face and shrugged. “I mean, you already know it. You dance it good enough, I guess.”

  I looked down at his flexing, perfect feet and let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “God, wow. I—I don’t know.”

  He ducked down to catch my gaze. “What the hell you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I mean, I don’t know.” The invisible Ashleigh was freaking out, running for cover. I started grasping for excuses. “It’s hard to dance with you because you’re so…so talented and flawless. When we danced Sleeping Beauty…remember? You were
angry with me.”

  “I was angry at your shoes, not you. I didn’t even know you then.”

  “You called me a whale. Everyone judged me.”

  He scoffed. “No one judged you. No one even noticed you.”

  “Exactly. If I’m going to go unnoticed I’d just as soon do it from the back of the corps. The stakes are a lot less high.”

  He shook his head at me. “Sad. This is sad. Low stakes. This is what you want? Instead, why don’t you try to beat me? Dance better than me?”

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to the barre. “Dance better than you. Right. Because that’s so easy.”

  “No, it’s not easy. It’s hard, very hard. Something to strive for. Something to expire to.”

  “I think you mean ‘aspire,’” I said, although expire was probably more accurate.

  “Whatever.” He stood behind me, frowning at me in the mirror. “You disappoint me, Ash-lee. This is a chance for you to do something amazing. Something to make everybody say ‘oh look, there she is. Look at her. Where she been hiding?’”

  I spun on him, shaking my head. “I don’t want that. That’s the last thing in the world I want.”

  He looked like he would have happily kicked me square in the stomach. “Whut? Why you dance then? Why you practice your technique, why you spend hours at the barre if you don’t want to be looked at?”

  “I don’t know. Because I have to. Because I don’t know what else to do.”

  He rolled his eyes and flipped backward into a handstand. “You stupid, stupid girl.” He flipped back to his feet, then over again onto his hands. “Liam would want you to do it. He won’t believe it when I tell him you refused.”

  “Don’t tell him.” I didn’t want Liam to know I was still cowardly chickenshit. “It’s none of his business anyway.”

  “I’m telling him.” He took to his feet and crossed for his phone. “I’m texting him right now.” He turned around and snapped a photo. “I’m going to attach a picture of you. Total loser.”

  “Just—” I let out my breath in a miserable huff. “Don’t text him, okay? Give me some time to think about it.”

  “Time?” His face contorted in disgust. “You don’t need time. Fernando Rubio asks you to dance in the spring showcase. On worldwide summer tour. There is one answer, and you give it immediately. Yes, yes, yes!”

  “Okay, yes,” I yelled. “Fine. I’ll do it.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “Just don’t tell Liam I didn’t want to.”

  “Why?” His angry face transformed to a lurid smirk. “He would spank you, huh? Whip your ballerina bottom?”

  No. He would know that I’m a hopeless case after all. When I didn’t answer he took that as confirmation and got a completely filthy look on his face. “What would he do to you for punishment? Tell me. Something awful? Degrading?”

  “No.”

  “I already told him we practiced this together. He’ll be glad you got this role.” He grinned at me. “Rubio and Ash-lee, partners. I want to rub my cock on you again.”

  I sidestepped his approach. “No, thank you.”

  “When are you coming to play downstairs at Liam’s with all us other pervs? I’d like to play with you.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “That is not likely to happen. But I’ll let you know.”

  “Not likely, why?” He was looking at me too closely now. “What happened? Liam hurt you? Scare you out of the lifestyle? I told you. Didn’t I warn you?”

  “Jesus, Ruby.” I looked away from him but he yanked my chin back over again.

  “What he do to you?”

  “Nothing! We just— Our thing didn’t work out. You understand that, right? When people don’t click together? I don’t think I’m really good at…” I waved a hand. “You know, all that stuff you guys do.”

  “Aw, girl.” He stroked my face, and I had a sense that he could be a dangerously seductive lover. “Maybe you just need a different person to top you.”

  I laughed so I wouldn’t start crying. “Let me guess. You?”

  “Why you laugh? I’m good at it.”

  “I’m sure you are,” I said, pushing his hand away from my face.

  “What? You’re not attracted to me? You think I don’t make good sex?”

  “Oh, I’m sure you make good sex. I just don’t… I don’t even think of you in that way.” This seemed to befuddle him. “I’m not available,” I finally said. “It’s a long story and it will bore you to hear it.”

  “You still like Liam.”

  I sighed. “I said it was a long story, so no. It’s not as simple as that.”

  “I’m looking right at you and I see you still like him and you’re sad.”

  Rubio had a way of laying it on the line that I really hated. “Can we get on with it?” I said, gesturing to the floor.

  “Sex, you and me?”

  “No!”

  “Oh, practice. But listen, Ash-lee. If you still like him, go see him. You talk. In lifestyle things, there has to be adjustment sometimes. Cooling off period and then you move on and things are better because you have…” He stared at the ceiling, trying to think of the word. “Grown a little. People grow together. It takes time. You and me, we are friends now, and remember? You used to hate me.”

  “No, you used to hate me,” I reminded him. “And you’re not really my friend.”

  “Whut?” He clutched his heart. “How can you say that? I am your friend. We’re doing this ballet together, no? A partnership. But I get top billing,” he added with a wink.

  “What’s it even called, this ballet?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have a name yet. It will come to me. Things take time.” He wagged a finger at me, my mercurial Brazilian idol. “You’re so impatient, Ash-lee. Too impatient. Don’t you realize this?”

  I hated that he was right. Yes, I was too impatient, especially when it came to fixing my broken sexuality. I looked at him and sighed.

  *** *** ***

  The following Monday, at noon, I climbed the steps to Liam’s house. The more I thought about Ruby’s words, the guiltier I felt. I’d been impatient and rude to Liam, who was only trying to help me. I’d expected miracles and gotten angry when he couldn’t provide them. I’d expected him to do things to me that he wasn’t comfortable with. More than anyone on earth, I should have known how wrong that was.

  When I rang the doorbell, Liam opened the door instead of Mem. I hadn’t expected that. I’d thought Mem would ease me inside and help bolster my courage before I had to face him. Liam didn’t ask me in but he didn’t shut the door on me either, only stood there wearing an expression I couldn’t parse. It was a cold day and he had on a chunky fisherman’s sweater I wanted to cuddle up against. I was in a blouse, cardigan, and miniskirt, shivering down to my boots. I pulled my coat closer around me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said when he made no move to invite me in. “I came to tell you I’m sorry. I got scared and…and impatient. I was trying to give orders. Trying to top you, when you’re supposed to be the one in charge.”

  He blinked, his lips tightening a little. “I accept your apology.”

  The winter sun was blinding. “Can I come in?”

  He looked at his watch, then back at me. “It’s noon on Monday. Are you here because you want to start up again?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that, because I wasn’t sure what I wanted. He said something rude under his breath and pulled me inside. Mem drifted by to take my coat but Liam didn’t offer me a seat. I picked at the trim on my cardigan while we stood in his foyer looking at each other.

  “If you want to start up again…you and me and your sex thing,” he said, “I’d advise you to think about it, honestly.”

  I hated the way he called it my “sex thing.” I hated the way this moment felt. “I have been thinking about it,” I said. “I— I don’t know what to think, or how to make up for what I did, but I want to make up for it.” I stared at the patterns in his marble tile.
“Maybe you could punish me.”

  “For what? For exercising your right not to consent? That would be pretty stupid, considering that was the whole point of the session.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at me. “Although I’d enjoy tearing up your ass. I’m not going to deny it.”

  It was difficult for me, being so emotionally raw and open, but I let him see everything, all the angst in my heart. “I’m sorry, Liam. I know you were trying so hard, doing everything so carefully. All you wanted was to help me. Even when I was yelling at you, I realized that, but I couldn’t stop my mouth.”

  “You freaked out, like you always do when you’re confronted with sex. I understood all of that. I’m not angry because you left, Ashleigh. I’m angry because you didn’t come back. If you’re not going to do the work— If you’re just going to leave me hanging—”

  Mem rattled some plates in the kitchen. Liam turned to him with a violent look. “This is a private conversation.”

  “I am not listening, Ishi. Just hoping to see some harmony. Will you not invite her to sit? It is very bad luck to argue in front of a door.”

  Liam inclined his head to me, his gestures stiff with annoyance. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “If you want me to go—”

  “If I wanted you to go, I would ask you to go. Please, come and sit down with me.”

  His words were polite, but his voice was strained. I sat on the couch closest to the door and he sat beside me. Mem appeared a second later. “Can I get either of you—”

  “Mem. Enough.”

  The old man nodded and went upstairs. Liam turned to me with that same blank, equivocal look he’d worn at the door. “Here’s the thing. I didn’t realize when we started how emotionally invested I would get in your situation. How invested I would get in you. So when you left, and you didn’t call, and you didn’t come by, I felt torn up about it—and I don’t need the drama. I’m not sure I want to be around you anymore.”

  Wow. Harsh. I looked down at my hands in my lap. “Why didn’t you call if you wanted me to come back? Why didn’t you—”

  “Make you come back? Here we go again. I can’t make you do anything. I don’t want to do the same things he did to you. I don’t feel like I can trust you and I’m not sure I can fix you. I’m wondering if all of this was a mistake.”