Page 91 of Butterfly Effect

“Here? At the barre?”

“Gotta stay limber during the off-season. Mind if I join the class?”

Miss Diana frowns, pulling her wrinkles downward. “I’ll allow it.”

I wink in thanks before facing Gabe’s back.

The instructor continues with her directions.

I use the handrail to maintain balance while stretching my leg up and keeping it there. “Miss Diana is a hardass.”

“Shh!”

After the series of battements ends, I try again.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back in town, Freckles?”

“Onto the wide leg bends!”

She groans through her teeth. “Why do you insist on annoying me?”

“Plié!”

“Why won’t you answer my question?”

“Plié!”

“Why do you keep answering questions with other questions?”

The volley of whisper-yells gets us in trouble.

“Out.” Miss Diana points to the door, her body straight as a pole. “Both of you.”

Gabe goes red. I’m jealous it’s not for the reasons I want it to be.

We gather our things without another exchange, and she lets me walk her to the car, smiling politely behind her sunglasses. This time, she pulls me in for a short, chaste kiss. She keeps me close, nails digging into my nape, donning a sinister, saccharine grin.

“Leave me alone. And for fuck’s sake, don’t follow me.”

The feathery stroke of her fingers against my cheek has my cock aching as she gets into her car and drives off.

I’m going to have to send her my therapy bill.

I stop by Au Lait and treat myself to a double espresso, a far cry from the Timmies double-double’s I’ll have to endure overthe next couple of weeks. Driving through Ottawa has become so routine that I don’t even realize I’m already in my building’s parkade when my phone beeps with an unknown alert sound. It’s the security cameras at the penthouse.

Suspicious activity?

Instinctively, I grab a paddle from my gear bag in the trunk, ready to beat the living hell out of whoever or whatever is in there.

Sneaking into my own place was not on my bingo card for the day, but here we are. The notifications keep beeping, and I tsk, silencing the phone so as not to alert the intruder.

A gust from the ventilation system slams a door shut behind me. I jolt.

The living room is untouched, and no one’s in the kitchen, but a strange noise sounds from my closed bedroom.

The fuck?

“Oh, God,”the voice moans.

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