Spiral (Off the Ice Book 2)

THE EVENING LIGHT bathes the studio in a soft glow, illuminating the wooden floors of the room as I guide my students through a series of movements. “Arms lifted, extend your lines, and remember, soft movements.”

Today’s class is a coed class for ages six to nine years. We’re practicing the basics to give them a solid foundation. They mirror my movements, and I let them practice on their own for a few beats. Nina, one of the older students, flutters around the class to help others. The eight-year-old girl reminds me so much of myself that I harbor a soft spot for her.

There have been times that I’ve caught her walking home alone, so I’d accompany her. Based on how she shuts down when I ask about her parents, I know that things aren’t great for her at home. So far I’m here to step in if need be, but I know more than anyone what it’s like to have shitty parents. Ballet is a solace for me, and I’d never muddy her experience by overstepping.

My phone vibrates on the edge of the studio’s mirrored barre. My attention moves away from Nina to peek at the screen. There’s a voicemail from the National Ballet, which I auditioned for last week. The riot that ensues in my chest is nothing like the soothing piano notes that fill the room.

“And arabesque, extend those lines,” I encourage, even as a sliver of anticipation seeps in. Not wanting to wait any longer, I grab my phone to play the voicemail.

“This is Sonya, speaking from the National Ballet of Canada, and we’re calling regarding your recent audition. Unfortunately, you have not been selected at this time. Our fall auditions …”

Rejection causes an ugly knot to form in my throat and a black inky liquid to pool in the acid of my stomach. I take a steadying breath, masking the disappointment that threatens to spill over.

For the next forty minutes of class, the voicemail sits on my chest like an anchor, and breathing around it feels impossible. But I manage to finish the class without any of the kids seeing me break down into a blubbering mess. I’ll take that as a win. My only win of the day.

When I enter Elias’s apartment, I hear the TV in the living room, and it eases the lonely feeling a smidge. The guys were out of town for an away game, so I spent the last two days living on the lunches Elias put in the fridge for me, and teaching a few extra shifts because suddenly, I can’t stand being alone. I know I shouldn’t get absorbed into his life because I haven’t had this before, but now that they’re back, it doesn’t feel like something is missing.

A part of me wanted to go back to my apartment, but my landlady said it won’t be ready anytime soon because of the delayed insurance approval. I’m sure if they knew I foolishly left a lit candle unattended, they’d deny her faster than the fire that ate my clothes. Thank God for renter’s insurance.

I smile when I walk past the guys, trying to appear jovial but faltering when Elias catches my eye. In the kitchen, I’m hoping he’s baked something that will suppress the feeling in my chest. A sigh of relief escapes me when I find a batch of blueberry muffins on a tray.

I’ve only taken a bite when Elias steps into the kitchen.

“How was class?” He goes to the fridge to pull out a water bottle that he unscrews and hands to me.

His question hits me right in the solar plexus, and I try not to let the dam break. But when he’s near, that heavy load that’s weighing me down begs to empty itself onto his strong shoulders. Everything about him screams comfort.

“Good,” I say instead, taking a sip of the water.

With one stride, he closes the space between us and lifts my chin. The touch causes a devastating flutter to take place in my stomach. “I think I’ve earned the right to filter past the lies.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I got another rejection.”

“Come here.” The hand rubbing my back deflates the weight that’s been sitting on my shoulders this entire week as I fall into his chest. For once in my life, I feel like I’m allowed to cry outside the shower and in front of someone who won’t crumble if I do.

“I thought this was the one,” I say into the fabric of his T-shirt. “I guess I’m not as good as I thought.”

“Not true.” Elias pulls back to cup my face. “You’re amazing. I’m not just saying that because I think it, but because I’ve seen how people react to seeing you onstage. The little kids in the audience light up when they watch you.” His brown eyes bore into mine so intensely, my breath hitches. “They have pictures of you and write letters to you. You’re an inspiration, Sage.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

My gaze lands on the pink roses by the kitchen sink. “Whose flowers are those?”

“Yours.”

There’s a warmth in my chest that doesn’t ease. It gets worse when my eyes drop to his lips without thinking. I look up just as quickly, but Eli catches the move, the tension between us crackling to a restless heat. The idea of kissing him for real implodes my mind, and I become desperate to feel his lips on mine.

Everything in me wants to test my dwindling self-control. He smells so good I have the urge to tear his shirt from the collar down to the hem and smell his skin to determine the exact mix of fragrance. But I can’t forget those damn rules.

But then he pulls away, as always. And my chest deflates, as always.

“We’re here!” a deep voice shouts.

Two huge guys, just about as tall as Aiden and Elias, stand in the foyer with suitcases. In between them, Summer beams brightly at me. Her gaze settles on Elias and me, like she’s interpreting our proximity to mean something.noveldrama

“Miss me?” she asks, pulling me into a hug.

I’ve never had the kind of friendships that feel like family. But I’ve never really had a family to compare them to anyway. But with Summer, I have the overwhelming need to tell her everything and expel my inner thoughts without judgment. To let her in. To not be lonely.

When she pulls back, I can still feel the warmth of her hug. I peek at the two guys who could easily be Hollister models standing behind her. Summer must see the curiosity in my gaze because she waves them over.

“That’s Kian and Dylan. Eli’s probably told you all about them.”

“I’ve heard some stories,” I say.

“Dirty ones, I hope,” Dylan interjects with a wink that I’m sure only a guy who looks like him can pull off.

“This is Sage. My girlfriend,” Elias says as he comes to stand next to me.

The words sound like a threat, but his friends know about our ruse. Summer holds back a laugh at my expression before she slips away to help Aiden with the luggage. He doesn’t let her, so she just follows him down the hall.

“Right, the fake girlfriend,” Dylan emphasizes.

Kian is grinning, staring at me with a sort of bright-eyed wonder. He’s wearing a T-shirt and shorts that expose his tattoos. Black and red ink designs cover his thighs and arms.

Then the guys move in for a hug, and they smell so good, I get a head rush when they’re surrounding me. It’s like drowning in a sea of beautiful men.

“Why are you here?” Elias’s abrupt question makes them pull back.

“For the playoffs kickoff party. We’ve been texting about it for weeks,” says Dylan.

“I even asked for your opinion on my outfits, but you never replied,” adds Kian, looking miffed by his friend’s lack of response.

Elias grows more confused. “How did you get invited?”

As far as I know, the pre-playoffs dinner is for the team and some of the retired veterans, so plus-ones are limited. Especially because it’s more of a superstition than a party. Elias told me the one time they didn’t have one, the Toronto Thunder were sacked in the first round.

“Summer’s dad. Lukas Preston? He loves me, man. Where have you been?” Kian says.

“Clearly, on another fucking planet.” Elias turns to me. “Lukas Preston likes nobody but his wife and daughters.”

“And now Kian,” I add. I’ve heard about the rough time Aiden has had trying to get Summer’s hockey Hall of Fame father to like him. So this is an unexpected development.

“Anyway, he said I could come, and I brought Dylan as my plus-one.”

“Translation: He annoyed Summer’s dad enough to score two guest passes,” says Dylan.

I chuckle as Kian just shrugs, beaming with pride for securing the invites.

When we move to sit in the living room, Elias hands Dylan a water bottle. Dylan frowns. “No beer?”

“You think you should be drinking this early?”

There’s something in the air that grows awkward with the question. I feel like I shouldn’t be here. Though it doesn’t seem like either of them care.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be on my case about this too,” Dylan mutters.

“Yeah, I am. You can’t let yourself go during the offseason.”

“What part of letting myself go does this count as?” Dylan lifts up his shirt to show off his abs. Washboard abs. I try not to gawk and instead stare at my hands like a scandalized nun.

The universe must finally be doing me a favor, because Summer walks in with Aiden, cutting the tension in the room. Kian moves to the spot between Dylan and me.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Sage. Eli cannot stop talking about you,” he says with a mischievous smirk.

“I find that hard to believe.” My words draw curiosity from the guys. But I’m saved from any questions when Aiden cuts in.

“How did you guys get the time off from your classes?” he asks.

Kian looks over at Dylan, who doesn’t appear to want to enlighten anyone with a response, so Kian answers. “The semester is almost over and we only took one class. Fall semester is going to be rough, though.”

When the guys start talking about hockey, I kind of zone out, but this comforting chaos isn’t something I’ve ever had. Where no one is fighting, and it’s just a group of friends having an easy conversation. Elias looks happy when he’s with them. It’s the most carefree that I’ve seen him. Even the way he laughs is open and unrestricted.

When Kian starts to complain that he’s starving and Aiden asks what everyone wants to eat, we settle on pizza. I’m the first to head to the door when it arrives, letting everyone catch up. But when I’m carrying it into the kitchen to get plates, Elias is already behind me. The soft brush of his torso against my back as he opens the cupboard lights an awareness on my skin. He grabs the plates even though they’re in reach now that everything is moved down one shelf.

When he steps back, I awkwardly fidget with my hair tie. The post-wash curls make it almost impossible to achieve a neat bun.

“Need help?” A lazy hint of humor touches Elias’s words when he sees my struggle.

“It’s not funny,” I say.

A lopsided smile stretches across his face. “Turn around. I’ll do it.”

My arms are tired after the fifth try, so I give up and hand him the hair tie. I’m sure he has no idea what he’s doing, and that much is confirmed when he yanks my hair.

“The hair pulling is really working for me, but your friends are in the next room.”

“Shut up, Sage.”

Elias concentrates, and I watch his expression through the reflection in the microwave. His mouth twists with every loop and tug, and then finally he reveals a satisfied smile.

He looks so damn proud of himself, I let the knotted mess be, even though I know it’s going to hurt tomorrow. “You’re a natural.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says suddenly, playing with a curl that’s slipped out of my bun.

“Are you drunk?” My gaze slips over to the can on the counter to check if it’s open.

His lips tip into a devilish smirk. “I don’t drink.”

Goose bumps riddle my skin, and his eyes are hooded in a way that tells me his thoughts might actually match mine for once. Minutes transpire, thick and syrupy, as I watch him.

“You guys better not be eating the pizza by yourself,” Kian shouts, and we both flinch away from the string that tightens between us. I help Elias take everything to the living room, praying the faint blush on my cheeks blends in with the natural flush from the heat.

“What should we watch?”

Summer brightens mid sip of her chai. “I have an idea.”

“No,” everyone says in unison, and she slumps back into Aiden’s arms. He whispers something to her, and she nods, a little happier now.

When I suggest a horror movie, everyone agrees, but Summer warns that she’ll fall asleep halfway through. Apparently, she only has an attention span for her Turkish dramas.

I must be suffering from the same problem because by the time I’m jostled awake, Elias is gently placing me in his bed. Then, when I think he’s going to go back to the living room, he lifts the comforter and gets in beside me. We’ve been sleeping together most nights since I tricked him into bed with me, and we keep our distance. But this time, I don’t miss the arm on my waist that pulls me tight against his body or the kiss he plants in my hair.

“Elias?”

I’m sure he thought I was asleep because he takes a minute before he responds. “Yeah?”

“Why do you buy me flowers?”

He answers after a beat. “Because I like seeing you light up, even if you say you don’t like flowers.”

Every time I see a touch of pink or a bright yellow in a vase, something akin to longing blooms in my chest. Something that shouldn’t be there.

“Wouldn’t want us breaking any other rules,” I say, half joking. But there’s one I’d love to break. Especially right now as he wraps me in the cloak of his warmth. There’s something about this connection. A transfer of something created in our own bodies that we’re willing to share. It’s small, minuscule even, but it sets my heart alight. I steal the warmth of Elias like it’s mine to have, and he gives it to me like that’s true.

“We won’t.”

When Elias slips his arm off of me, I barely refrain from pulling him right back. The response feels like a heavy rejection, and when he flips onto his side to face away from me, I know I won’t get any sleep tonight.