Page 21 of Nothing Less Than Everything

WREN

“Wren-freaking-Porter!” Jewel squealed as she dropped her leg from the ballet bar and bolted across the dance studio. Her dark hair floated behind her as she tackled me to the ground in what was meant to be a loving bear hug. The wind was knocked out of me as five-feet-seven inches of Cuban gorgeousness careened into me. Jewel was tall, lean, and had a face made for high fashion. Add in the fact that she had legs for miles and stamina that wouldn’t quit, and it wasn’t hard to see why she was a perfect fit for the Ladies in Red.

Jewel and I met during auditions our first year and had been inseparable ever since. We even shared an apartment for our first season as cheerleaders for the Rhode Island Red Cocks.

Today was the start of our fifth season. I couldn’t believe it had been that long. Five years ago, we were fresh-faced twenty-two-year-olds. Now, we were the grandmas of the group.

I felt like a grandma.Using a walker to get around would really save my knee…

“Rookie summer sucked without you,” she whined as she released me from her boa constrictor hug. “How’s the knee feel?”

I looked down at the brace I had strapped on. It was clunky and awkward, but I didn’t want to undo all the good work the surgeon did a few months ago. The brace hid layers and layers of kinesio tape—a condition my physical therapist begrudgingly gave me in exchange for permission to return to the Reds for one more season.

One more season.

“Great!” I chirped. “Good as new!”

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and crossed one light brown arm over the other. “You cut your PT down by, like, five months.”

Jewel happened to be a massage therapist at the practice where I had been rehabbing my knee after an ACL tear during the last game of the season last year.

“I’m just a little stiff,” I said. “I would’ve loved a few of the rookie summer practices to loosen up.”

As veterans, we oversaw rookie summer—a month-long intensive training camp for the first-year dancers of the Reds. The newbies survived auditions and always thought the worst was behind them. But they were so wrong.

Rookie summer put the newbies through their paces—going through grueling workouts, learning upwards of fifty choreographed routines, and halftime performances five nights a week. Preseason would be a reprieve for them. It wasn’t learning; it was rehearsal.

Not for me. I felt as if I was starting over from scratch. I hadn’t done a single split or a high kick since I blew out my knee on the turf last February. Tonight was going to be interesting.

I dropped my Red Cocks gym bag in the corner of the mirrored room and eased down onto the floor. I traded my slide-on flip-flops for white sneakers. Jewel joined me on the floor and rummaged through her bag, pulling out a makeup kit. The canvas was faded from loose powder. She added another layer of bronzer and sealed it with setting spray. I stole the bottle from her and spritzed my own face.

Rookie summer was the equivalent of boot camp. No one looked pretty when they were drowning in sweat. But preseason called for studio hair and makeup. We didn’t go all out the way we had to on game days, but our directors required that we have our hair styled and faces painted.

“You missed the video chat last night,” Jewel said as she swiped on a layer of burgundy lipstick. She was referring to the scheduled video chat for the four captains of the Ladies in Red. It was our chance to catch up before preseason started and get the gossip out of the way. It was kind of like a virtual slumber party.

I tugged the laces on my sneakers tighter before knotting them and tucking the ends into the sides of my shoes. “I had a work thing run late.” The effort to keep my voice from raising an octave was useless. Jewel was a human lie detector.

“Spill,” she hissed with a wicked smile.

I cut my eyes around the dance studio. There were some fellow veterans and a few rookies I didn’t recognize stretching at the ballet bar. “I…” I bit my lip as I remembered the way it felt as Tatum slid his thick cock inside my pussy. His gentle praises and encouraging words clashed with his firm hands. Goosebumps cropped up along my bare arms.

Jewel’s eyes sparkled with devilish delight. “You got some,” she sing-songed with a little shimmy of her chest. “Which means you’re officially over Preston Ducant the Third, and you have to download all the apps again!” I didn’t appreciate the way she emphasized my ex-fiancé’s name, but I didn’t hate the way she poked fun at it. The fucker deserved it.

I stripped out of my warm-up sweats and jacket and adjusted the crimson-red sports bra to cover my boobs. “I had a client dinner last night,” I whispered.

She tapped her fingertips together like a mad scientist. “And then?”

I battled my smile and quickly lost. “We hit it off. He paid for dinner, and we went back to his place so I could do a walk-through before I start demo.”

Jewel snorted. “Please. That’s not the face of someone who had a perfectly professional walk-through.”

I rolled my eyes. “He opened a bottle of wine, we talked, hands started moving, and we kind of hooked up.”

“Kind of hooked up or hooked up?”

I giggled under my breath. “Hooked up.” Holding up two fingers, I said, “He handed out multiple O’s. Ten out of ten, would recommend.”

“My point stands,” she said as she scooted away from the mountain of gym bags and rolled into a middle split. My joints ached just watching her. “You’re officially over your ex, and it’s time to move on. There’s a hot new pharmaceutical rep that’s been making his rounds around the medical park. I’m totally gonna give him your number.”

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