Page 57 of By A Thread
But he didn’t move when I did. And now we were almost touching. I couldfeelhim. His hands were still tucked in the pockets of his coat. The heat that came off his body was extraordinary.
I could imagine just how it would feel if I slid my palms over his chest. I knew exactly how the texture of his crisp shirt would war with the body heat that seemed desperate to escape.
I could feel his breath on my hair. I would have bet money that he could hear the thrum of my heartbeat because I sure as hell could hear it. I could feel it everywhere in my body. An insistent pulsing of hot blood.
He leaned in and down, and for one split second, I thought that those firm lips were going to crush mine in the kind of kiss that no one survives. But he reached past me, then straightened. “Here,” he said, handing me the headphones I’d left on the desk.
My fingers closed over them, but his didn’t let go. We stood that way for another long beat. Looking at the headphones. At our fingers that were almost brushing.
He still wasn’t touching me. But it felt like he’d stripped me down and spread me out to be admired.
Devoured.
Ruined.
Was he feeling this, too? Or was I just the awkward woman who couldn’t get out of her cubicle without making a mess?
I chanced a look up at him.
Those blue eyes bore into mine. He looked frustrated. Angry. Hungry.
“Did you have lunch today?” I asked.
He blinked like he was coming out of a trance. “Did I what?”
“Have lunch,” I repeated. “You look hungry.”
“You should go, Ally,” he said, taking a deliberate step back.
And just like that, he took his heat with him.
I grabbed my coat off the back of the chair and swirled it around me like a protective cloak before leaving without a word.
* * *
I gotoff the subway one stop early just so I could suck in the cold air and calm my racing mind. I hadn’t just had a moment with Dominic. Definitely not. He didn’t have moments. And he’d made it abundantly clear that not only was I not his type, but he could barely stand to be civil to me.
I was tired. Distracted. I’d completely misread all the signs. He wasn’t helplessly attracted to me. He was just being polite. Or annoying.
He hadn’t touched me. Not even when he handed over my headphones, I reminded myself.
I was not about to enter a mooning downward spiral about the hot boy in school. I cranked up Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” and refused to let my brain replay the non-moment.
The studio was on the first floor of a well-kept building with fanciful arched windows in the Cast Iron Historic District. The windows were fogged from the last class. Students overlapped in the hall. Those leaving were sweaty and loose and smiling. Those arriving were tight, cold. Ready to be guided out of their heads and into their bodies.
Gola and Ruth showed up in designer athletic apparel, and I ushered them to their spots on the glossy wood floor. We had a packed class, and I could already feel the energy rising as everyone began to shed their day.
This was what I loved most. The transformation from employee to person. From parent to dancer. From titles and responsibilities to a body that was ready to be used.
The small crowd squealed when I turned down the lights, cranked the music.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s move!”
20
Dominic
“Greta, I need some recommendations on dog walkers,” I said, leaning against her desk and just so happening to find a direct line of sight to Ally at her new work station. She’d been bumped upstairs temporarily to help keep Linus from losing his production managing mind for the week. And I was… distracted by her presence.
