Page 22 of Chosen Boy

I take a seat on the edge of his bed, looking at the posters on the walls and a few pictures of him and his teammates.

Taking his hat off, he tosses it on his desk before pulling a shirt out and yanking it down over his body. I’m not mad when he slides the hat back on his head, backward again. Something about it does things to me. Though I make sure to hide it from him.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” he mutters, sitting next to me on the edge of the bed. He’s so close that our legs brush against each other, and I feel my heart leap into my throat. “I just got pissed. But I shouldn’t have been a dick to you. Especially since it wasn’t your fault.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper, swallowing back my nerves. “But just out of curiosity…why do you let Paige do that? Drag you along the way that she does?”

He’s quiet for a minute, looking down.

“I guess because I love her. I don’t know. And maybe…I just want someone who’s normal. Who doesn’t come from a mansion with a country-club membership.” He shrugs. “And because I feel bad. My family was always so rotten to her. I would have done the same thing she did. I’m sure anyone would.”

“Maybe,” I say softly. “She certainly wasn’t happy to see us together. That’s for sure.”

His head cranes toward mine, and his eyes float to my lips.

Everything inside of me is telling me to stand up. Yet my body won’t do it. In fact…I feel myself subtly leaning closer.

Standing abruptly, he holds his hand out for me to grab. “Ready to go, tiny dancer?”

Staring up at him, I bob my head up and down. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I hope he didn’t catch that I almost kissed him.

“Yep. Let’s go.”

Hunter

In all the years I’ve known Sutton, I’ve never been this close to her. My hands are on her body, and I lift her up with ease, gripping her softly. After going over the routine, I realized there were certain things I clearly wasn’t going to be able to do. But after over an hour of trying…slowly, I’m getting the hang of it. And the best part is, I haven’t even broken her toes. Yet.

There’s something sexy in the way that she moves her body. Despite ballet being this sophisticated way of dancing, it’s different when it’s Sutton’s body doing the moving. It goes from being elegant and beautiful to sensual and downright entrancing.

When I set her down slowly, she coughs a few times before she holds up her finger, implying to give her a second. When she grabs her bag and walks into the hallway, I can’t help but look through the window to see what she’s doing.

When I see her take an inhaler out of her bag, giving herself a few puffs of medicine, a memory hits me of her doing the same thing when we were kids. I guess I forgot about it. But now, I’m a little worried.

After a few minutes, she walks back into the studio. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “But the good news is, we got a lot done today. And I now pronounce that you’re free to go for the night.”

As she switches from her ballet slippers to her sandals, I run my hand down my neck nervously. “Do you have a lot of asthma flare-ups from dance?”

She looks embarrassed, seeming to shrink a little. “Sometimes. But I deal with it, and life goes on.”

Another memory hits me, and I narrow my eyes thoughtfully at her. “When we were kids…you were hospitalized from it, right?”

“Uh…how many times?” she deadpans. “Yeah, uh, I guess you can say it’s a fun thing to deal with sometimes.”

I don’t know a lot about asthma. But I know enough to know that I’m sure things like sports are dangerous for those who have it. And to dance to the standard she does? Impossible.

“Sutton,” I say, taking a step toward her. “Is it even safe for you to dance?”

She looks annoyed as she steps back, walking toward the door. “Yes, Dr. Thompson. It’s fine.” She looks back at me. “You can text me when it works for you to practice again, and I’ll see if I’m free too.”

When she goes to pull the door open, I stop her by touching her lower back.

“Let me take you to get some dinner. I’m starving. You must be too.”

When she looks back at me, I know the wheels are turning.

Slowly, she spins to face me, her eyebrows pinched together. “Why are you being nice to me, Hunter?”

“Because it’s not your fault that your parents are snakes. And it’s not my fault that mine have lost their minds.” I shrug. “What do you say? I think after the patience you had with me the past hour or so…you deserve a meal.”

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