Page 30 of Off Balance

CHAPTER 7

CAMERON

We take our final bow to a standing ovation, and I scan the crowd as the curtain closes. Sometimes I swear I can feel Dom here. His presence has become something I can sense. I get a prickle of awareness before the door to the studio opens, and he slips in to watch me dance. He thinks I don’t know, but I don’t say anything because I like the way him sneaking in to watch me makes me feel.

I'm probably just full of myself. He does that to me, makes me feel confident, like I'm capable of all the things I want to do. My movements are more fluid when he's watching me, my jumps higher.

I know he watches me every night, but I still practice in front of him during the day, if only to keep up the pretense that he hasn’t already seen it several times. The way he never judges me if I fall or falter, only encourages me to keep going, makes me feel lighter than air. He even turns my mistakes into something good. Like last week when I faltered on a down step, and I jerked forward awkwardly. He'd asked what the move was called like he was impressed. When I laughed and said that I'd tripped, he told me to do it again. It turned into a part of the choreography, amove that brings me to the floor where I've been playing around with moves to show some of my flexibility.

Outside of the work we’re doing, I enjoy being around Dom. His little reactions, his tells, spur me on. I can't help but do things purposefully to get a rise out of him.

I know he wants me. I'm not imagining it. But neither of us is destructive enough to make a move. Neither of us wants to break this bond we've begun to forge—this friendship, built on mutual respect and support.

Marissa squeezes my hand, getting my attention. The curtains are fully lowered, but I'm still holding our pose. My jaw aches from smiling.

I squeeze her hand back, then pull her in for a hug. She's been kind to me, even when the rest of the company seems to be content whispering behind my back and taking joy in my misfortune whenever I make even the smallest mistake.Without her as my partner, I’m not sure I could keep a strong face.

Marissa puts her tiny hands on either side of my face. "I've really enjoyed dancing with you," she tells me, pulling me in to kiss me gently on the cheek.“It’s a shame this was such a short production.”

My hand touches the spot where she kissed me, knowing I probably have lipstick on my face now. "Why do you make it sound like this was the last time?"

She cuts her eyes over to the new dancer, Daphne. "I know how it works around here, and I think now is best to move on when I'm at the top of my game."

My brow furrows in confusion. "What do you mean? You've been a principal dancer here for years."

Being a principal dancer in any company is great for your resume, but one like De Pointe Elite, that is known for being tough, can be your ticket to almost anywhere you want to be. BecauseDe Pointe Eliteis so cutting edge and incorporates exciting styles and new methods into traditional ballet, it's often where dancers hope to stay until they retire. To hear someone as talented and accomplished as Marissa say she's leaving willingly is a bit of a shock.

"Someone else has caught his eye, and she will have my place before the next production. I'd rather not go out like Heath. I have dignity."

"What do you mean? Heath orchestrated his own demise here."

Marissa gives me a kind, if not patronizing, smile. "Protect yourself, Cameron. Pay attention. Never let anyone dull your flame."

I pull her in for a tight hug, my eyes filling with tears. "Stay in touch?"

"I promise." She pats my back and straightens her spine, looking every bit the prima ballerina that she is. "First, we have the afterparty." I grimace and we both laugh. Neither of us are fans of having strangers touch and talk over us like we're stage props.

We get twenty minutes to freshen up, and since it's the last night, we decide to redress in the more elaborate of our costumes for the show. Marissa is wearing a wispy calf-length dress in various shades of blue that complements her fair skin and blonde hair. My costume is a pair of nude tights and a corresponding blue tunic that thankfully covers most of my ass and the bulge thatthe dance belt gives me. There is nothing more embarrassing than having random people stare at your crotch the entire time you're talking to them, or ask questions about what you wear under the tights. After Marissa has touched up her makeup, we make our way to the top of the stairs so we can give our bows before joining the crowd.

Emile makes a show of kissing both of us on the cheeks, but his proprietary arm around my waist and the way his kisses linger make it clear our relationship is more than that of boss and employee. I don't know why it embarrasses me so much. I know I earned my spot here, that I'm hardworking and talented enough to make my own way, but I don't enjoy the way people look at me once they realize we’re together. I find myself shrinking away from his touch in public, though he never seems to notice.

I spot my mother towards the back of the room, standing next to Dwayne, and a smile breaks out over my face at seeing her laughing and chatting animatedly. She really is happy.

"My family is here," I say, as politely as possible, pulling away from Emile while he's busy talking to someone. It’s not as if I were part of the conversation.

His grip on my waist tightens. "Don't be rude, Cameron. We're in the middle of a conversation." A conversation he doesn't mind interrupting to chastise me when I'm attempting to make a quiet escape.

"Emile," I whisper, bending towards him so we can't be overheard. "Please. Everyone is staring at the way you are holding onto me." If he showed me this much affection in private, maybe it wouldn't be as noticeable, but it feels forced and uncomfortable.

"I'm just showing you off the way you deserve to, my star."

"I don't like feeling like a show pony."

Emile makes a sarcastic, pouty face and brushes a lock of hair back off my forehead. "But you are my show pony, yes?" It's hard to tell if he's making an attempt at humor or being blatantly condescending. Either way, I want some space.

“I don’t like you interacting with the public without me by your side. These people can be brutal, and you aren’t as used to spending time with people of this caliber.”

Gritting my teeth, I place my hand on his before moving it from around my waist. I kiss his knuckles once before releasing him. "I'm just going to go talk with my family. I won't go far."

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