Page 3 of Daddy's Perfect Ballerina

See ya! :p

Little footsteps patter against the restored oak floors of my apartment, a small bell ringing as they approach. My blond tabby kitten trots right up to my feet, blinking her big yellow eyes at me.

“Toast,” I greet, dropping to my knee to scratch behind her ear. “How was your afternoon?”

She only purrs, nudging her head into my hand for a deeper pet.

“Yes, those five hours I’ve been gone must have been rough, hm?”

Toast is a little rescue I found near the dumpster of the ballet school two months ago. She’s settled in quite nicely since being pampered and taken care of at the vet. She’s likely eight to nine months old and a great little companion.

I wasn’t allowed to have pets as a child because my mother always claimed they made it impossible to keep a clean house. I suppose a benefit of having dead parents is you no longer need to abide by their rules. The same could be said for turning eighteen and moving out for some, but I would never hear the end of it if Cara Miller knew her son had adopted an animal, one found on the streets no less.RIP Mom, but Toast is here to stay.

“Well, let’s get you a little snack and check your water,” I coo at her. “I apparently won’t be lounging around with you tonight.”

Hearing‘snack’and no other words, she sprints to the kitchen while I follow behind, chuckling.

Settling her with two small treats, I get to work, ignoring every urge to pretend to be sick in favor of lying around until I inevitably fall asleep. Toast would prefer this as well, which is nearly enough of a point to make me reconsider. Cats are notoriously easy to change your plans around for. Just her big, loving eyes alone are convincing enough to keep me entirely still when she graces me with her snuggles. I’d almost always rather have cramping muscles for hours than risk disturbing her rest by shifting.

I like socializing, I really do. I enjoy going to parties and seeing my friends. But I’m in a funk that I can’t escape. At work, it’s easy to focus. I care about the kids and their passion for learning ballet. I don’t have any trouble separating my work from my personal life. Once I clock out… I’m a mess.

I’m justbummed out. I’ve got an unrequited crush, and to put it plainly, I’d like to sulk about it. All I can think about is Ezra, and it’s so easy to slip into an unproductive cycle when I’m feeling this way. It would be soeasyto put on some movie, get all snuggled into my couch, and promptly ignore said movie in favor of jerking off to a far-off fantasy of his hands all over…FUCK.

No. I have to be a functioning human today. And so I will be, for my friend.

After a couple hours of eating and cleaning every inch of myself up, I have to admit, I lookdamngood wearing a navy blue, satin, button-down tucked partially into my gray trousers and some casual shoes. I give myself one last appraising look in the mirror. My hair is styled, but not overly so, and the cologne I’ve gone with is fresh but deep—a lovely combination of my favorite scents: Clean but robust citrus.

Like she knows I’m about to leave her, Toast trots up to me, meowing her displeasure. I frown down at her, wishing I could put her in a little tote bag and take her with me.

“I know, little Miss, but I’ll be home later tonight.” She gives me a blank look. “Okay, maybe early tomorrow, I don’t know. It’s only for a little while. You’ll be asleep for most of it.”

Toast promptly spins, walking lazily to her favorite spot on the couch and curling into a little fluffy ball. I drop a kiss onto her head and leave before I can talk myself out of it.

This will be fun. Noah is fun. I like hanging out with my friend. I won’t even think about Ezra. I got this.

Yeah, right.

CHAPTERTHREE

Leo

The Uber ride isn’t a long one, thankfully. Though the address is only supposed to be a thirty-minute trip from my place, I was expecting much more traffic. A Friday night in this city usually means adding at least twenty minutes to any expected time of arrival, but not tonight. It was smooth the whole way, with no hold-ups, and my driver was sweet but quiet; my favorite combination of traits when it comes to car rides.

I got to sit back, chill out, and play solitaire in peace to pass the time.

When I get into the building George, the head security officer, lets me right through to the private elevator with a smile and a dip of his head. He’s seen me plenty of times, and I’m sure there’s an approved list of names he has for the evening. Normally, there would just be a code I have to punch in, but on nights like tonight, there’s an increased security presence to avoid any potential mishaps.

“Have a good night, George,” I say, offering a quick wave before dipping into the chrome doors. Too many floors up and the elevator chimes, doors opening directly into a nearly empty foyer area.

Two steps inside and afirm hand clamps around my shoulder. “You made it!” my friend cheers happily, shaking me a little with his grip.

I look to my side, finding Noah smiling wide. “I made it,” I agree. “This place is ridiculously swanky, you know that, right?”

He chuckles, removing his hand to wave off my comment. I say something of the sort almost every time I visit. “You’ll get used to it eventually.”

I give him a dubious look. I doubt I’d get used to a twenty-five-million-dollar penthouse, but I can see how he would. It’s nice, really. Just a bit too high-brow for my taste. I’d be afraid to touch anything if I lived here.

Noah laughs at the expression on my face. “Come on, let me get you a drink.”

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