Page 2 of Off Balance

A small choking sound escapes my throat when the lights come back on and he's gone. Another dancer sweeps across the floor, a beautiful woman in a flowy dress. She's graceful and talented, but it's nothing compared to the phenomenon I just watched. Nothing compared to the way?—

My breath hitches again.He's back.

This time he's dancing with the woman, lifting and supporting her as a cast of other dancers moves around them. It’s clear that his role in this particular dance is to support and draw eyes to his partner. But, again, my eyes are locked on him. I see nothing but him.

The sinewy ropes of muscle that flex whenever he lifts his partner into the air make my mouth fill up with saliva. One long, graceful limb reaches in my general direction, and I catch myself reaching out as if I could touch him from where I'm sitting. I'm actually nearly out of my seat when the curtain lowers for intermission, only brought back down to earth when the lights in the box go up and loud applause breaks through my brain fog.

I slump into my seat.

"Cora isn't going to believe…"

I don't process whatever it is Dwayne is saying. My heart is still beating too fast.

"I'm surprised how into this you are," Dwayne says, giving me a perplexed look. "I thought for sure you'd be asleep by now. Are you alright?”

"Huh?" I wipe sweat from my brow.

Christ. Why am I so sweaty?

I need air.

Standing quickly, I excuse myself to the restroom. There's an actual bathroom attendant standing like a sentry near the sinks, and a sitting area that confuses me. The stalls are more like lavish little rooms that belong on a yacht or something. I can't hear anything through the walls or door, only light music filtering in through a small speaker. I recognize the music as the opening song from the ballet, and I sway on my feet. Taking a moment to breathe, I rest my forehead on the textured wallpaper and squeeze my eyes shut.

What the hell is wrong with me? I don't even like ballet. Or classical music. Or really any type of theater in general. But this is different somehow.

The dancer was…. intriguing. Beautiful in a way I've never seen before. Something about the way his body moved made my veins dance. Like the blood in them was memorizing the movements so I could follow him more closely.

All the same blood that is currently pooling in the worst place possible.Why the actual fuck am I hard?

My chest is tight.Fuck.

Dear God, please don’t let me have a heart attack with a boner in public.

The lights blink slowly, letting us know it's almost time for the show to start again. How long have I been in here? I haven't even pissed yet, but I'm not sure I can without making a mess in this pristine bathroom. I'm also not sure I can walk out of here like this, but what else am I supposed to do? I'm not about to drop my pants and jerk off when I don't even understand why I'm hard in the first place. I'm more confused than horny, but my body seems to need something my brain hasn't caught up with.

But there's no time for it. I don't want to jerk off in a bathroom with a stranger waiting for me outside, holding all the towels hostage. Would he know what I’d done? More than that, I don't want to be late to get back to my seat. What if I miss him?

Pulling off my suit jacket, I use it to cover my situation and run out of the bathroom. I didn't actually use the restroom, but by the judgmental look the attendant is giving me, I probably still should have stopped to wash my hands. Then again, he'd still be judging me if he saw the raging erection trying to make an escape through my pants. This suit was too tight before, I'm not sure it can stretch any further.

"You alright?" Dwayne asks again, when I throw myself back into my seat and situate my jacket over my lap. His brows are furrowed. "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," I croak, turning my attention back towards the stage as the lights dim again.

I manage to survive the second half of the ballet, although by the time it's over I'm worried I might need to see a doctor. My workouts have increased significantly since I agreed to this stupid comeback match, and yeah, I've grown a bit soft. But I'm not this out of shape. There is zero reason I should be sweating through my suit and breathing so heavily.

I'm ready to make a beeline for the exit, but Dwayne calls me back.

"Hold up, Dom. We can't skip the meet and greet now!"

He says it enthusiastically, like it's obvious, but I don’t understand what changed about our initial plans to leave directly after the show. He'd mentioned certain ticket holders can attend a meet and greet with cocktails after the show, but that Cameron wouldn't be there since it's typically only the principals and main cast that people want to shmooze with. And I don't shmooze, so I forgot all about it.

Shit. Did he notice my confusing reaction to the male lead? It'd be just like my brother to notice my weird behavior and do everything in his power to give me shit about it.

But…

This means I have a chance to seehimagain. Closer—but not too close. Just close enough to hear what his voice sounds like. To see his body up close. Will he still be in those tights? Or will he have time to get dressed? I can't decide if I hope he's dressed or if I want to see his body up close at all. I mean, Idefinitelywant to see his body up close. But I'm not sure that's a good ideagiven my already uncomfortable predicament. I've got my cock pulled up under my already torturous waistband, and my jacket hanging over my arm in front of me. But what if I?—

What the hell am I even thinking about?!Where is my mind right now? Since when do I fall over myself thinking about anyone this way, much less a guy?

---