Page 40 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name
She took a second to relish this feeling of waiting to start and not quaking in terror. She looked over at Daniel, lounging on the sofa. Maybe it was because she was performing in front of someone who probably couldn’t tell a pas de deux from the Chicken Dance. Or maybe it was because she got the feeling that if she broke out the Chicken Dance and called it a pas de deux, he’d love it all the same.
The music started. She threw herself into every movement, with as much energy as if it were an audition. It wasn’t a long variation, but there were some complicated beated steps en l’air which required all her concentration. She ended the piece delicately perched on one knee; her arm gracefully extended. But inside, she didn’t feel delicate or graceful. Pheromones were dancing their own little jigs in her bloodstream, and her heart had taken up gymnastics.
He didn’t applaud. He just sat there, his face flickering through a dozen tiny expressions. Awe and amusement and even something that looked a bit like pride. Then he reached out a hand to her. She got up and took it and he gave a little tug. Unbalanced, she toppled onto his lap. Both her knees collided with his thighs, but if it hurt, he gave no sign. Just wrapped both his hands around the small of her back and looked up at her, his expression settling on wonder. “Eresincrieble,” he murmured. “You’re so fucking incredible, baby.”
She placed both her hands on his chest. She could feel the heat radiating off him through the fabric of his singlet. Sweat glistened on his clavicle.
He placed his mouth a fraction away from hers but didn’t kiss her. When she moved to kiss him, he pulled back and smiled teasingly. So, she placed both hands on the sides of his face and held him still and kissed him.
He liked that because he gave a soft moan in the back of his throat. His mouth was hot, and his tongue was not shy, and he was gripping her hips with both hands. And she was enjoying it, right up to the moment when she wasn’t anymore, and she broke off the kiss.
She was still holding his face, and they were so close they were still breathing into each other’s mouths. He looked up at her, something unreadable in his eyes.
He leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. Then he smiled and tilted his head in the barre’s direction. “Come on. I paid to see the whole show.”
She smiled, too, and climbed off his lap.
He settled back on the couch, both arms draped across the top. “Can you do that spinning around on one foot thing again? Only this time, don’t fall down.”
“It’s called a fouette´,” she said over her shoulder. “And they’re very difficult. I only fell because you distracted me.”
He smirked. “Alright. Just picture me naked. Then you won’t be distracted.”
She threw her water bottle at him. Unfortunately, it was empty.
He swatted it away, still smirking.
She folded her arms and said, “When I was little I used to get nervous before every performance. So, my ballet mistress told me to picture people in the audience as cabbages. Rows and rows of cabbages.”
He laughed. “Okay. Picture me as a cabbage, then.”
She smiled. Pictured him as a cabbage. Then executed thirty-two perfect fouette´s. And didn’t fall down once.
* * *
The breeze coming off the lake was balmy, and the sky was clear but starless. Julia lay on her back on the sand, her damp clothes sticking to her skin.
She hadn’t intended to go swimming, but Daniel had gone in first, wetting his jeans to the knees. Tequila had thrown herself in after him. Julia had waded in up to her ankles. Then Daniel had turned and run back and scooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder. He’d become unbalanced, and then they’d both ended up in water up to their necks.
Together, they’d sloshed out and then lain flat on their backs on the warm sand. Tequila was a few yards away, trying to dig something out from under a log.
She turned to Daniel, just a dark silhouette on the sand next to her. “You’ve never told me about your parents.”
There was a dry rasp and then a burst of brightness. Daniel’s face was illuminated as he lit the joint pressed between his lips. He inhaled, then blew out the stream of smoke and held it across his body to her. “You’ve never told me about yours either.”
She took the joint and put it to her own lips. Sucked in, and this time, didn’t cough it all out again. She handed it back to him. “What do you want to know about them?”
He blew a stream of smoke into the air, then turned his head to look at her. “What happened to your dad?”
Her fingers brushed the tiny ballet shoe pendant at her throat—the gift from her dad on her sixth birthday. He’d died just weeks later, and somehow, the necklace had come to represent him far more than ballet.She exhaled softly.“He died when I was a kid. Aortic aneurysm.”
She felt Daniel’s eyes on her. “Do you miss him?”
She looked up at the night sky and said, “I was so young, it’s like there was no one to really miss. But I can still feel the absence at the same time. Does that make sense?”
He rolled over to face her. They were just inches apart. He reached out a hand to capture a strand of her hair. He considered it carefully, then tucked it behind her ear. “Yeah, it makes sense.”
His eyes flicked to the pendant she was still absently turning between her fingers. “You must really love it.”
