Page 68 of Stolen Voices
A clatter outside my door has him jumping back. Disappointment punches me in the stomach. Eli drops his hand and the loss hurts worse than Silla’s slap.
“Do you need more time?” He dips his chin to the guitar.
His thoughtfulness fills me with warmth. I appreciate that he’d make time for me if I needed it. “No, I’m good. I finished.”
“The whole thing?” He looks at me in awe.
I nod, my insides filling with pride at the way Eli’s looking at me, like I conquered the world or something.
“Wow, Callie, that’s amazing. Can I hear it?”
My heart trips over itself at the thought of him hearing the lyrics. If I’m not ready to sing them to him, I doubt he’s ready to hear them. The last thing I want is for Eli to run.
Ignoring his question, I slowly extricate myself from the couch, hating that I need to put distance between us. Hating that my feelings are one-sided. I look away, but not before catching a look of disappointment flash across his face.
Eli stands from the couch, brushing his hands down his thighs. “Do you, uh, need anything else?”
“No, thank you.” Gripping the bottom of my shirt, I pull it off and throw it on the dressing room table. I adjust the shoulder straps of my one-piece before untying the string on my sweatpants.
“What are you doing?”
My hands freeze at Eli’s question. I look up to find him staring at me with his fists clenched, looking like he’s in pain. “What do you mean?”
“Why the hell are you taking off your clothes?” His voice is gritty and thick as he stares back at me, jaw tight. The heat in his eyes is unmistakable.
Eli is in pain—not because he’s hurt, but because he likes what he sees.
Hmm. Maybe he needs a little show.
A sly smile pulls at my lips. “Don’t worry, Elijiah. I’m not getting naked.”Yet.
He visibly gulps, and his gaze returns to my hands as I undo the tie. His eyes widen as I slowly slide off the baggy sweats, letting them fall into a pool at my feet, and kick them to the side. I’m left wearing nude tights that give the appearance of naked skin under a pair of black fishnet stockings and my matching sequined rehearsal leotard.
Continuing to ignore his presence, I saunter over to the purple knee-high boots on the shoe rack and make a meal of lazily stepping into them, lifting my leg on the shelf and, with a torturously slow pace, zipping them up.
When I’m done, I look over at Eli. The exaggerated rise and fall of his chest, and heat in his eyes as he stares at my legs and hips, give me hope that maybe I’m not so alone in this attraction.
“Eli, my eyes are up here,” I repeat his earlier teasing words.
With pink cheeks, he slowly brings his eyes to mine. Eli’s hungry stare has my confidence soaring. His reaction is a drug, delivering a buzzing high to my body. I shoot him a flirty wink, and bask in the desire plainly written across his face. Putting extra sway in my hips, I strut to the door and hope he’s staring at my ass.
Hand on the knob, I stop and turn to him one last time. “I’ll play you the song when you’re ready.”
With those parting words and feeling giddy, I walk out and make my way to the stage.
Eli was totally staring at my ass.
My palms are raw with newly forming blisters as we restart the choreography for the last song, in which a ring lifts me fifteen feet into the air. The plan is for me to perform a few aerial spins before being lowered back to the ground.
While learning aerial acrobatics has been fun, I do not want to do this. I am absolutely terrified of heights. My hate for heights is probably why Silla hired an aerial stunt choreographer who saw her Cirque du Soleil style vision as a thing of beauty.
All I’ve ever wanted was to sing, and this elaborate show with all the theatrics isn’t me. I’d much prefer intimate settings with an audience and my guitar.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that I can get through this. That, one day, I won’t have to worry about Silla anymore.
“On my count. Five, six, seven, eight,” Jenna, the dance choreographer, shouts. She claps us off as the music starts.
The routine feels like second nature as my body has already committed the steps to memory.
