Bill raised his chin over the crowd. “I see an old colleague. Mind if I go say hi?”
“Make it quick,” I said. “It’s almost curtain.”
Lucy, ever the hostess, turned sideways to include me in a conversation about mutual funds and expense ratios.
As I watched Bill walk away, my gaze lingered on different people. Their stiff, deliberate movements countered the elegance of ballet dancers. Strangers. An older woman slid an olive from a spear with her teeth. A businessman checked his cell during a conversation. A couple stood shoulder to shoulder, flipping through their programs. Not a genuine smile in sight. Sometimes it seemed as if everyone was just operating instead of living. Or maybe I was, and it was me who didn’t belong here. Or anywhere.
A feeling that’d haunted me for sixteen years.
Since my parents’ abrupt divorce when I was a teenager, I’d never figured out exactly where I was supposed to be. Large crowds heightened that insecurity, as if they were all in on something I wasn’t. I had the unfortunate ability of feeling spectacularly alone in a crowd, even when surrounded by friends and family.
Or was I alone?
I had the sensation of being watched seconds before I met a man’s unfamiliar stare across the room. Dark and narrowed intensely in my direction, the handsome stranger seemed to either try to place me—or strip me bare. My toes curled in my high heels. He stood taller than anyone else around him, his hair and eyes midnight-black like his tuxedo. His furrowed brow and frown exaggerated a long, angular jawline. Something about the way he looked at me slowed time, everything going fuzzy—except my heartbeat, which whipped into a rapid flutter.
My body only buzzed this way when I’d had just the right amount of wine. I held his gaze longer than I should’ve. My pounding heart echoed in my ears. It wasn’t his immense, tall frame or darkly handsome face that struck me, but a draw so strong that it didn’t break, even when I finally blinked away.
I moved my hair off my clammy neck. The hem of my dress ghosted the tops of my tight-clad thighs. I didn’t have to look back to know he was still watching me.Staringat me. Goose bumps started a slow crawl over my skin, up my arms and legs.
I knew I shouldn’t look again, but I started to raise my eyes just as Lucy linked her arm through mine. “It’s starting,” she said, pulling me away as the lobby lights pulsed. “Let’s go to our seats.”
Bill found us in the auditorium, making his way down the row, apologizing when his elbow struck a woman in the back of the head.
He took his seat, shifting to get comfortable. His long legs knocked against the seat in front of us, and its occupant turned to purse her lips.
When she looked forward again, he shrugged and said under his breath, “I’m tall, sue me.”
I suppressed a laugh.
“So, are you familiar with the tale of Odette and Prince Siegfried?” he asked.
I furrowed my brows, taking theSwan Lakeprogram from him. “Yes. Areyou?”
He chuckled at my expression. “Of course. I, uh, probably never mentioned how my parents forced me to audition for the play in high school.” He rubbed his chin. “One more desperate attempt to round out my college applications.”
“Youdancedin high school?” I asked.
“Well, you already know my parents forced me to take ballroom lessons—but no, not ballet. The play was a modern-day retelling minus the ballet. Huge disaster. Plus, they changed it to a happy ending to appease the parents. I prefer the original.”
“The tragedy?”
“Yep.” As the conductor lifted his arms, Bill winked. “Just another love story gone wrong.”
Before long, the stage was awhirl with white tulle, hard muscles, pretty and perfect pink slippers that curled and arched and lengthened unnaturally. Everything about the ballet appeared smooth and blemish-free, from the dancers to the patrons. The graceful precision was one thing, but the flawlessness of the performance awed me.
Everything in life should be so clean.
A bewitching Odette mournfully enthralled the crowd as her story unfolded. Why did it feel as if she focused on me?
Like the black-haired man from earlier. With the memory of his dark and stirring gaze, the velvety red seat under my thighs suddenly pricked me. I couldn’t remember exactly what he looked like. Hard as I tried, the details of his face remained hazy—I could only feel him. I tried to sit still, but the heat in his stare enveloped me now. What had made him look at me that way? Like he’d been seconds away from tearing across the packed room and dragging me into a dark corner. Pushing me up against a wall. Shoving my dress around my hips and ripping through my tights.
I gasped as I released the breath I’d been holding.
He was probably somewhere close by. Maybe even watching me now. Was he also thinking about fucking a married stranger, shielded by elegant curtains with sophistication-reek? I turned my head over my shoulder just as the curtain fell for intermission. It took me a moment to catch my breath and clap along with the crowd.
We spilled into the lobby as Lucy excitedly reviewed the first half. “I can’t believe my mother let me quit ballet when I was seven,” she said. “I could’ve been a star.”
“You might be reaching with that one,” I said.
