The house lights dropped, and Jules took her place onstage, while Sophie stood with the other ensemble members. The music swelled. Jules stepped into the spotlight, soon followed by Sophie and the rest of the dancers. They gave their all at every performance, but the matinee seemed to draw extra energy from the cast, maybe because it was the middle of the afternoon.
After the show, Sophie and Tabitha went out for a late lunch, and then she spent the rest of the afternoon in her dressing room, looking at apartment listings in Syracuse. This had become her new favorite hobby and a good way to keep up her excitement about moving, because there were some really cute and affordable apartments out there. She could hardly wait to have her own space.
Soon, it was time to get ready for the evening performance, and she went through the routine of hair, makeup, and costume for the second time that day. Sometimes, it felt repetitive, but most days—including today—she wished they had two shows every day. Already, she was excited to get back on stage and perform again.
By the time the curtain dropped at the end of the evening performance, Sophie was ready for a beer. She walked offstage, wondering if she should text Gia and Kit to see if they wanted to go for a drink when she caught sight of Jules and Micki in a back corner.
They were leaned in close, and…Sophie’s scalp felt like it had caught fire. She had the irrational urge to leap at them and start the kind of cat fight she might have engaged in back in high school. Instead, she forced herself to keep walking toward the stairs. It was none of her business if Jules wanted to kiss Micki. She was free to kiss anyone she wanted to. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed Micki’s interest in Jules, but she’d never imagined Jules returned the feeling.
Sophie wanted to scream at the thought. But on second glance, she noticed the way Micki was gripping Jules’s arm and heard the hiss of angry voices. What in the world? She paused, unsure whether she should intervene. Before she could decide, Jules yanked free from Micki’s grasp.
“Stay the hell away from me,” she spat as she stalked toward the stairs.
Whoa.Unable to help herself, Sophie hurried after her. “What was that about?”
Jules wheeled on her, cheeks pink, fists clenched. “Nothing.” She strode toward the stairs, waving a hand over her shoulder as if she were too angry—or upset—to speak.
And maybe Sophie should take a hint and leave her alone, but something had her following Jules, hurrying down the stairs, half jogging to keep up with her. Jules ignored her, heels clicking against the tiles, moving as fast as she could within the confines of her blue dress, the one that had been driving Sophie crazy ever since the first time she’d seen her in it…during the photo shoot where she’d been kissing Micki.
“Jules…” she called.
“Leave me alone, Sophie,” Jules warned as she stormed into her dressing room, attempting to close the door behind her.
Sophie wedged herself through it, wincing as it slammed shut behind her. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Jules’s eyes snapped with a fierceness Sophie had never seen from her. “I’m pissed, and I just…” She turned away, yanking off her wig. She tossed it on her makeup table and began tugging the pins out of her hair. “You should go.”
Sophie hesitated, wishing she could help. What had Micki done to get Jules this worked up? But Jules had asked her to leave, so she stepped toward the door. At the same time, Jules moved to open it for her, and they collided, bodies bumping solidly into each other.
Before Sophie had even realized what was happening, they were kissing. Jules pressed her against the door, flattening her body against Sophie’s as her tongue swept into Sophie’s mouth. Sophie melted beneath the heat of her kiss, overwhelmed with the need to touch her, to tangle her hands in Jules’s hair and pretend she still had a right to do so after she’d decided to chase her career in the opposite direction of their relationship.
Jules groaned as her hips rubbed against Sophie’s, desperation evident in every frantic movement of her body. Her fingers slid beneath the waistband of Sophie’s pants, fumbling with the clasp at the top of the zipper.
“Jules…” Sophie tried to find some sense in her brain, a reason why she shouldn’t give in to the almost overwhelming need building inside her.
“Shut up,” Jules panted, pulling her closer. “Just fuck me, Sophie. Please.”
It was the plea that did it. Or maybe it was the wordfuckon Jules’s lips, because she so rarely used it. Maybe it was just that Sophie was starved for release, not having been touched since her last night with Jules weeks ago. But really, it came down to the simple fact that she needed Jules, needed her more than she could put into words, and so she reached for the zipper on the back of her dress, dragging it down her back with a hiss of metal that had them both gasping with anticipation.
She pushed the dress over Jules’s shoulders, revealing the flesh-toned bra and seamless panties she wore beneath. With trembling fingers, she lay the dress over the back of Jules’s chair, aware it was a costume despite the frantic need racing through her veins and sparking in the air between them.
Sophie stepped out of her costume, tossing her top and pants over Jules’s dress. Jules reached behind her to flip the lock on the door, and then they were pushing at each other’s underwear, stripping as fast as they could, the dressing room filled with the sounds of sex—Sophie’s gasp and Jules’s sharp inhale as Sophie’s fingers slipped between her thighs.
They tumbled onto the couch, kissing desperately. Jules straddled Sophie’s thigh, grinding against her as she stroked Sophie with her fingers. Tears streamed over Jules’s cheeks as she whimpered with pleasure. Sophie was too in love with her to see straight, too aroused to do anything but attempt to keep herself quiet as a cry rose in her throat.
Her eyes met Jules’s as she came, release rushing through her in a scorching wave. Jules stilled her hips with a frustrated sob, as if she was too upset to succumb to her own release, tension vibrating from every inch of her.
“Come for me,” Sophie said, sliding a hand between them to touch Jules’s swollen clit.
Jules whimpered. “I can’t. I’m too—”
“No, you’re not.” Sophie flicked the hardened bud, swirling her fingers the way she knew Jules loved.
“Please,” Jules gasped, moving against Sophie’s hand.
She increased her rhythm, stroking harder and faster, and then Jules was coming, her pussy fluttering against Sophie’s hand as she flung her head back in soundless pleasure. Sophie pulled her close, their bodies hot and damp with sweat, entwined in the most intimate way, and for a moment, Jules lay against her, clinging to Sophie just as tightly as Sophie clung to her.
Then Jules sat up. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood, wrapping herself in the black-and-white patterned robe that hung from a hook in the corner. She turned her back to Sophie.
