“It’s okay. We’ve got time to figure it out.”
“Yeah, I know, I just...well, I have to say I’m a little intimidated,” he said sheepishly, ducking his head. “I mean, you’re kind of a big deal.”
Heather guffawed in surprise, and he blushed.
“I’m not laughing at you,” she reassured him hastily. “I just don’t think of myself as a big deal. I’m just a dancer, you know, and ...”And apparently I slept my way to the top anyway, she thought, her smile faltering.
“Okay then, you’re just a medium deal,” Justin said. “Either way, I promise it’ll be less weird tomorrow.”
The next morning, Marcus was relieved to wake up without any pain in his ankle. He was pleasantly sore in his legs and hips, but thankfully, his ankle felt just as it had yesterday. And so he went back to company class, for more gentle pliés and more tentative tendus. He was so pleased with his progress, so happy to get reacquainted with his body in this way, that he’d even managed to keep his eyes off Heather throughout barre. Mostly.
Unfortunately, keeping his eyes off Heather was not an option right now. As barre ended and he’d been on his way out, sweating but deeply satisfied, Peter had stopped him and spoken in a rushed, low voice.
“We had a few hiccups in yesterday’s rehearsal with Justin and Heather. Nothing major, but I think Justin could use some help. Can you sit in for a few days, if Sharon can spare you?”
Marcus’s stomach lurched, and he felt some of the morning’s elation drain away. So much for staying away from Heather. Ithad been hard enough to dance across from her this morning. He remembered watching a bead of sweat slide down her throat into the hollow of her collarbone, and his stomach gave another nervous jolt.
“Yeah, no worries,” he’d managed, hoping he sounded nonchalant and obliging, and Peter had nodded his thanks before returning to the rest of the company.
So now he was sitting at the front of one of the smaller rehearsal studios, watching Justin and Heather run through the first act pas de deux. Peter scrutinized their every move with his characteristic squinted gaze and cocked head.
When Marcus had arrived at rehearsal, he’d stood quietly by the piano, fiddling with his cane and avoiding Heather’s eyes while Peter briefed them on the plan for today: to borrow the expertise of someone who’d danced Justin’s role far more recently than Peter himself had. Marcus didn’t really buy it. Justin had danced the role of Albrecht plenty of times—after all, the company wasn’t about to place their new American star in inexperienced hands. Marcus suspected this was another of his boss’s attempts to make him feel useful even though he couldn’t dance properly yet, but it made him anxious. Those who couldn’t do taught, but Marcus wasn’t ready for his doing days to be over yet.
Still, as Peter explained the plan, Justin looked relieved. Heather looked as though Peter had just informed them they’d be bungee jumping off the Harbour Bridge. She hid it well, but he could see the panic flicker in her face, the way her eyes widened ever so slightly as Peter spoke. She bit her lip and shot Marcus a fleeting glance, and he was quite sure they were thinking exactly the same thing: this was going to be awkward as fuck.
Perhaps this was why Peter had implemented his deeply unpopular policy, Marcus thought as Heather placed her hand in Justin’s and stepped up onto one of her pointe shoes. This would be a lot more awkward if he and Heather had dated and broken up or were sleeping together, right? It would be pretty damn difficult to focus in rehearsals if he knew exactly how smooth Heather’s skin wasunder her leotard, or what it was like to wrap his hand around one of her strong, lean calves. Or what she sounded like when she—
Jesus, stop it. Marcus surreptitiously pinched his thigh through his tracksuit pants. Wincing, he forced himself to concentrate on Peter’s corrections.
“Justin, make sure you’re giving her as much stability as you can through that left hand.” Peter gestured with his own left hand to Justin, who knelt on the ground and offered Heather one open hand with which to support her one-legged balance. “It’s looking shaky, and we don’t want that. Marcus, any notes?”
Marcus looked up from his stinging leg to find three sets of eyes on him.
“Uh...no, yeah, it’s looking shaky,” he repeated quickly, “and we don’t want that.” Peter raised his eyebrows, and Justin shot him a look that very clearly said,Mate, what the fuck?
Marcus felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment, and he glanced apologetically at Peter. His boss had supposedly brought him in to be useful, to pass along whatever nuggets of wisdom he’d accumulated from dancing the role of Giselle’s unfaithful duke. And all he’d done so far was sit here lusting after Heather. He had to pull himself together.
“Sorry,” he muttered, then he cleared his throat. “Justin, if you press your back foot into the floor, it’ll create more tension through your whole trunk, and your arm and hand will be more stable.”
Justin looked over his shoulder at his back foot, then murmured something to Heather, who nodded. He held out his left hand to her again, and she stepped back up onto pointe, placing her hand in his. She bowed forward into a deep penché, until her face was level with Justin’s and her free leg pointed directly at the ceiling. It was graceful and seamless, and, Marcus noted as he checked her supporting leg and Justin’s outstretched arm, it was rock solid. Not a shake in sight.
“That’smuchbetter,” Peter said, sounding very pleased. Justin flashed Heather a quick grin, which she returned before bringingher leg down. Envy poked Marcus unpleasantly in the gut at the sight of their shared smile.
They tried the penché one more time, then moved on to the next section. This part required a lot of assisted pirouettes, with Justin standing behind Heather with his hands at her waist. From where Marcus sat, he could barely see his friend, and he couldn’t avoid looking at Heather. He couldn’t avoid the sound of her breath in the small, otherwise silent studio—a deep breath through her nose as she prepared to spin, and then a relieved little puff out as she completed her final rotation and Justin stopped and steadied her. Marcus couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to the last time he’d been close enough to Heather to hear her breathing change.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then glanced at the clock. There were ten minutes left in this rehearsal. He could make it through another ten minutes, he thought as Heather and Justin exchanged notes in a mix of muttered words and abbreviated steps. Marcus kept his eyes on Justin and gave his thigh another pinch, determined to stay focused. Then Heather slipped her fingers into the neckline of her leotard and pulled the fabric out a few times, as if she were scooping cool air onto her skin. God, ten minutes was a long time.
Heather and Justin both took their places, and he placed his hands at her waist. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, she gave her head a little shake, then moved his hands closer to her hips. She placed her palms flat over his fingers and pressed them against her body. Marcus gritted his teeth. This was torture.
“Don’t be afraid to hold a little tighter, okay? It’s better than the alternative,” she said quietly, but Marcus heard every word. He shifted in his seat again.
“Marcus, why don’t you show Justin how you’d do it?” Peter asked. Heather froze, and her eyes flew from the mirror to Marcus’s face.
“Oh, no, he’s getting it all right,” Marcus said quickly.
“Please,” Peter pressed, encouragingly. “Let’s see what he can learn from you.” Marcus swallowed a groan. He knew his boss thought he was doing him a favour, knew he was just trying to make Marcus feel valued and included. But, Marcus thought as he eased himself up and made his way over, this could not have been less helpful.
As Marcus pushed his sleeves up his forearms, Justin stepped aside so he could watch. Heather stood stiffly, avoiding his eyes, and he could see two pink spots on her cheeks that he was fairly certain weren’t due to exertion. She clearly didn’t want him anywhere near her.
