Page 35 of Teach Me to Fly

When we’re done rehearsing,I reach for the door and hold it open for Angelique. She slips past me, and I follow her out into the early morning light, the studio door swinging shut behind us with a soft click.

We walk side by side toward the guesthouse, the silence between us more comfortable than it was earlier. It’s not tense, or awkward, just quiet in that way two people can be when they’re tired.

I look over to her as we walk, noticing how her hair’s falling out of the bun, a few strands clinging to the side of her neck. She’s flushed, cheeks still pink, her top sticking to her back in places. She’s beautiful—frustratingly so—and the worst part is, I don’t think she even knows it.

I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, but fuck, a part of me doesn’t care. I want to claim her as mine again,but I grit my teeth against it. That would only end up with us both feeling broken all over again.

“You did good in there.”

She glances over, skeptical. “I didn’t finish the scene a single time.”

“Still,” I shrug. “You tried, and that counts.”

She’s quiet for a moment, brows pinching slightly. “Thanks for not pushing, but you don’t have to be so nice to me.”

I nod, not sure what else to say. I never know what to do with gratitude—especially when it’s directed at me. She pulls ahead slightly, and I let my gaze linger on the curve of her waist, the way her leggings hug her hips. It’s a problem, how aware I am of her.

We’re just a few paces from the guesthouse when I slow my steps. “I’ve been thinking maybe we could bring Lando in for the next few sessions. Just to help you get more comfortable with lifts before we try again?”

She pauses, just slightly, then turns to face me. “I’d like that.” I catch her almost-smile. It’s the first trace of the girl I remember, the one who used to laugh too loud and dream big.

We reach the guesthouse and stop walking. I watch as she lingers in front of the door, fingertips trailing across the wood, her chest rising and falling a little too fast. My gaze dips—just for a second—and I have to lock my jaw to keep from thinking about what it would feel like to touch her again. I almost reach for her just to feel her warmth under my hands, but I don’t. Because if I touch her now, I won’t stop, and she deserves softness, not the hunger clawing at my ribs.

“Thanks,” she says softly, her eyes lowered. “For… making it feel safe.”

That shouldn’t be something she has to thank me for. It should be a given, not a gift. The fact that it isn’t makes my stomach twist. My fists clench at my sides, the need to touch her eclipsed by the deeper need to protect her from every hand that ever made her feel unsafe in a space that was supposed to be hers.

“Good morning,” Lando shouts in the distance. I look over my shoulder and see him making his way over.

“Bring him to tomorrow's session,” I say, voice low, already backing away.

Because if I stay a second longer, I might not be able to keep this rage from spilling out of me for a second time this morning. I turn and head toward my car, jaw clenched, fists in my pockets, not daring to glance back at her.

Chapter 11

Angelique

“What was that about?” Lando’s voice cuts through the silence as he joins me outside the guesthouse. We both watch as Reign climbs into his burgundy Porsche, the engine growling to life before he peels away down the gravel path.

“I honestly do not know,” I mutter, pushing open the guesthouse door.

Lando trails behind me, closing the door with a soft click. “Did you two just get back from a morning rehearsal?”

“Yeah, and he wants you to join us tomorrow.”

He looks at me, dumbfounded. “Me? Reign wants me there?”

I nod, biting back a smirk.

He stares at me, utterly bewildered. “Well damn. I guess I’ve officially been promoted to third wheel.”

I laugh, swatting his arm, and he grins in return. I cross to the kitchen and reach for my water bottle, twisting off the lid, but as I go to fill it at the sink, I notice that resting on a folded paper towel by the basin are the shatteredpieces of the mug I’d filled with coffee earlier. I stare at it wondering what the hell happened after I left.

“Ready to get to work?” Lando asks, oblivious.

“Yeah,” I say quickly, screwing the lid back on and tossing the bottle into my duffel. “Let’s go.”

“So,” Lando says as he backs out of the driveway, trying—and failing—to look casual. “How was your first night with Reign?”

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