Page 14 of Off Balance

"Nice to meet you again," he says warmly. "I'm happy you could make it."

Emile hums and offers his hand, except it looks a little like he's expecting Dwayne to kiss his rings rather than shake his hand. Dwayne shakes it awkwardly, with a barely visible pinch to his brow. My mother introduces herself next, looking like she's going in for a hug. Emile drops kisses on either side of her cheeks, and she actually giggles. His French mannerisms can come off pretentious to some Americans, but he's also quite charming.I’m glad they’re getting to see this side of him.

"Cameron made it sound like it was important, so I rushed over from a dinner meeting with the Managing Director of The Sterling Ballroom. You have heard of it, I'm sure?"

"Of course," I say lightly. "It's only the largest theater venue in the city. It's where the Atlanta Ballet performs," I say, directing the explanation to my mother and Dwayne in case they don't know. "How did it go?”

Emile purses his lips before he lets a smile tug at them. "Victoria was selling me on the idea of an event, featuring our next production."

I gasp. "No shit!"

"Cameron, don't be vulgar. It's unbecoming of my top performer," he chides.

"That's a large venue," my mother says, thankfully bringing the focus back to Emile’s news.

She and I have gone to see the Atlanta Ballet perform at the Performing Arts Center downtown a few times. The first time was about a month after my father died. Then once because we'd won tickets in a raffle, and once because she'd worked doubles for a week to afford tickets for my eighteenth birthday. I've gone three other times separately when I volunteered as an usher for performances.

"It's huge. This is huge. Emile, this is fantastic! Congratulations!"

His grin widens, and he pulls me to his side, accepting congratulations from my mother and Dwayne.

"Where did Dom disappear to?" I ask absentmindedly, looking across the yard. It's grown dark, but most of the yard is lit bythe warm glow of the fire and the twinkle lights that hang off the pergola over the main deck.

Dwayne bends around to look around the side of the yard where the gate is. "Stepped out, I think. His agent has been blowing up his phone all day. Emile, why don't you join us around the fire? It's a lovely night."

"Maybe he went to purge all that sugar," Emile murmurs as we make our way to the fire pit. He chastises me with a lift of his eyebrow.

"It was just one marshmallow," I lie. "And I earned it. I worked out quite a bit despite it being the first day off I've had in weeks." I give him a very pointed stare to remind him how else I earned my naughty little treat.

"Hmm, yes. But do not make it a habit. I need you in prime condition, yes?"

"Maybe you were watching a different performance than me," Dom says, his voice coming up behind us. "I can't imagine anyone being in better shape."

"Heath was in far better physical condition. I trained him myself." Dom's eyes go wide. Before he can attempt to say anything about it, Emile continues. "Cameron knows what it takes to be the best in this industry.De Pointe Eliteis not just any dance company. We are, as the name says, Elite. Cutting Edge. And I expect nothing less than perfection from my dancers." He gives Dom an unimpressed once over. "I wouldn't expect someone such as yourself to understand."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"What he means," I say, cutting in before this gets ugly, "is that ballet is different from other sports. It requires a different kind of strength and endurance, as well as aesthetic." I smile at Emile. "Emile sounds harsh, but his bluntness isn't meant to be cruel. Ballet dancers are held to a different standard of physicality. And Emile's company is the best of the best. Isn't that right?"

Emile smiles indulgently at me and smoothes my hair back. The show of affection from him makes me preen, especially considering it doesn't happen all that often. I hate to feel like I'm chasing attention, but the moments I do get it feel really good.I allow myself to be tucked into Emile's side. He doesn't move to sit like the rest of my family, which I take for the hint it is.

"You must be tired after today, but I'd love to hear more about your meeting. How about I pack an overnight bag?" I'm pushing it. I know I am. He’s clearly trying to make a good impression here, so maybe he won't brush me off in front of them.

"Yes, why don't you do that," he replies.

"I'll just be a moment," I tell him. "You should tell everyone about the last time you performed at Madison Square Garden. Mom's never been."

That should be a safe topic to leave them with for a couple of minutes. I run downstairs and quickly pack a small bag with essentials. I contemplate taking a quick shower, but maybe I'll see about taking one at Emile's house instead. The tension was weird out there, and I don't want to chance leaving him alone with my family for too long. It feels like Dom is trying to start a fight, and who knows what embarrassing stories my mom might start telling. I wouldn't put it past Dwayne to tell the story of the first time we met—a story that involves him walking in on me in the bathroom when I was shaving. Not my face, I barelygrow any hair there.Lower. No,lower than that. Imagine being spread out, one foot on the tub and bent forward slightly, ass pointed towards the door, holding a razor behind you.

Fun fact: razor nicks on your taint feel worse than pouring rubbing alcohol on a paper cut between your fingers.

Oh god please don't let him tell that story.

I can’t decide if that would be better or worse than the stories of the trouble I used to get into.I better hurry.

Once I've got my things together, I fly up the stairs and directly into a wall of muscle.

Dom is looking down at me with an odd expression that I can't read. Is it concern? Pity? Or worse… disapproval?

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