RETRACE (8 page)

Nia is putting our empty glasses in the dishwasher as I reach the great room. She turns back to the sound of my advancing steps.

“Thanks for stopping it,” she says, catching me off guard. She has a tendency of doing that, surprising me. “Let’s just not mention it again, okay? Do you want to watch a movie?”

For a short moment I look at her mildly startled. After inwardly determining that she’s the coolest chick I’ve ever met, I nod with a small crooked smile.

“So you never told me what made you end up here?” I ask as Nia, beside me on the sofa, scrolls between movies tittles.

“I wanted to teach dance.” She makes a great deal of studying the screen. I take the remote from her hand, forcing her to grace me with a look.

“No studios in Brazil? You had to move to another continent for that?” The scepticism echoing from my voice can’t be disregarded.

“I needed a change, okay? And I wanted to teach dance… Since my mother is originally from here and I have a couple of relatives in the city, it was the simplest destination.” My eyes run across her face, assessing her sincerity. Gradually, her expression takes on a softer air. “I love teaching young girls to dance. It makes me calm.”

I can’t ignore the odd word choice. It calms her. Not happy, content, fulfilled,
calm
.

Before I’m able to further pry, she snaps out of a short lapse and almost squeals, “The Piano.”

I snort. “No chance in fucking hell, not even for you.” We both stop short at the latter part of my reply. “I don’t do whiny drama.”

We end up settling on a comedy after some more lame drama films she tries to sell me and I disqualify for the sake of my short crap tolerance.

Nia brings a light taupe throw and snuggles under it as I stretch my legs, resting them on the coffee table. She extends her hand to release a ponytail she tied earlier, and I watch her silky, dark hair fall in heavy strands around her blanket wrapped shoulders. She gives me a short soft peep. As our eyes meet, we exchange thin smiles and in unison turn to the mounted TV.

Not long after the first scene ends with an idiotic “misunderstanding” that makes me throw my eyes to the ceiling, I turn to ask my movie companion to maybe change the film. I crane sideways to look at her, her long, dark lashes caress her high cheekbones as faint breathing sounds part her lips. She is burrowed inside the throw, her head dropped, almost leaning on my shoulder. I take the remote in one hand, and scoot over to sit closer next to her. Unconsciously, she rests her head on my shoulder. I breathe her in, and turn the TV to the news. As I lean back, Nia’s head slightly falls from my shoulder to my chest, and when I lean further back, her head gradually ends up on my thighs. The news become nothing of interest when I find myself admiring the curves and lines of her delicate features. I brush back a couple of thin hairs that cling to her cheek. I can’t unglue my eyes. One thing is sure, I’m in a hell of a different situation now, so far from the one I've envisioned coming here tonight. Nevertheless, I like it more than I can even admit to myself.
I
feel calm.

I flicker my eyes open with a confused haste, it feels like I’ve slept forever. And the most puzzling part, I don’t remember waking up in the middle of the night, not even once. I can’t even remember the last time that happened. I bring my hands from under the blanket to rub my eyes, adjusting my sight to the illuminated room. When I comb my fingers through my hair, a startled cry flits my mouth when I touch a hand that’s resting at the side of my head. My eyes rip open and I look up to see Reeves blinking away sleep.

“Morning,” He greets me gruffly. I gaze at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity until the moments before I drifted off last night come back to me. I fell asleep… next to him. “Sleep well?” He asks, scrubbing his hands over his face, ending it with a short sigh.

Too embarrassed to admit just how well, I just go with, “I was very tired.”

“You looked too comfortable, and serene… I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.”

“Thank you.” I smile at him. He reciprocates with a thin curve of his lips, his green eyes swallowing me in. My own eyes run over his face, not even trying to be subtle about it. The stubble decorating his cheeks is denser, adding a tougher edge to his raw, delectable appearance. As ridiculous as it may be, I’m less than thrilled to leave this position, but for the sake of not appearing clingy, needy, or pathetic, I slowly inch up.

“Coffee,” I mutter, standing up. I stretch my neck from side to side and head to the bathroom.

“I’ll make some.” His husky morning voice returns. I inwardly mock myself about how much I enjoy the little domestic morning exchange. Sad.

Scrutinizing my face in the mirror while brushing my teeth, I decide that I look like a fresher version of myself. A version that finally had a good night’s sleep.

There’s something about Reeves that puts me at ease, that just makes me want to, well, be next to him. His presence seems to distract me from… me. I can’t deny the serious attraction I have for him. If he hadn’t stopped that kiss last night, I would have probably embarrassed myself by climbing him faster than I could say, “slut.”

I can’t overlook the sting of his elegant rejection. Subtle or not, it was still a rejection.
Ouch
. I guess I’m just not his type. Note to self, in order to prevent appearing pathetic don’t go at him, again.

It’s been a while since I let anyone stay for a night, sleep while someone is next to me. It actually bewilders me that I let myself fall asleep next to him at all. I haven’t done that for a very long time.

Reeves presses the last digit of his number into my phone as I see him to the door, after we have an easy talk over coffees, plural. Each. When his stomach started protesting and we checked my refrigerator for food, or more precisely the lack thereof, he asked if I wanted to join him for breakfast at his place. Just because I did, very much, I declined the invite with an excuse of grabbing something to eat on the way to the studio.

“So, see you at Jake’s tonight?” He asks, as if we’ve discussed it before. I swallow the smile threatening to stretch my lips, too excited to learn he wants to see me later, again.

“I guess.” I go for utterly-fake indifference. “We’ll probably be there anyway after the last class.” He cocks his head.

“Alex and her gang.” The query becomes more evident in his features and I elaborate. “Alex, she’s also an instructor at the studio, and her friends. They go to Jake’s almost every night. I guess you’ll recognize them once you see them. Alex has purplish, spiky hair.” A smile crawls to his lips and stretches his prickly cheek. I notice that the green hue of his eyes is lighter, even brighter in morning daylight, for a short moment I space out, fixated on it.

“The girls who gave the adult show last night?” I’m pulled back to the present by his question.
Busted
. He grins, noticing my ogling. I twist my mouth with a hint of a smile.

“Yep, them.” His face lights up. I shake my head and push him out the door.

“Bye…” Turning on my heels, I head to get started for the day, beaming.

I rummage through my bag for the third time, starting to lose my patience. Exasperated, I turn the damn thing upside-down and let the content spill to the floor. No, not in here. I send a glance to the watch above the studios’ glass door, I won’t make it home and back in time for my class. Crap. My entire lesson is based on a new song I was planning to teach the girls. I worry my lips, searching my mind for some creative enlightenment, and it marches in… in the most alluring form… Reeves.

Hey, at home? Busy?
I text him, more than grateful he added his number to my phone earlier.

My favorite neighbor. Am here, s’up?
My lips immediately pull up with his reply.

Can I ask for the biggest favor?

Shoot.

Any chance you could bring me something I forgot at home? Pretty please.

I’m not breaking into your apartment.

Key under the rug :)

R U FUCKING KIDDING ME?????

Disregarding the bold, capital animosity, I ask him to bring me the memory stick I’ve apparently left on my kitchen table.

Waiting for Reeves, I tidy up the room, putting away shiny balls and colourful hoops, then start my stretching routine. I lift my leg to rest on the wooden railing, holding the point of my dance shoes, I bend my body as far as I possibly can until it starts to feel far from comfortable. While changing legs, I catch a glimpse of someone watching me through the mirrored wall. I’m not sure what makes me slightly warm, perhaps it’s the weight of the stare boring into me, because I do, in parallel to a small flutter in my belly.

I’m staring, but there’s nothing I can really do to stop it. I’m staring and the emotions the vision in front of me brings are new, surprising, and powerful. It’s a combination of lust and something else which I honestly can’t decode. Nia’s motions are hot, as in making my dick throb, hot. And her gracefulness and the delicacy of her moves cause a completely opposite reaction, it prompts an urge to take her in my arms and kiss her softly, run my fingers through her hair, caress every inch of her.
Outrageous.
She sends me a timid look, adorably smiling.

I bring the thumb drive from my pocket and put it at display in my open palm. She beams and makes my way in quick steps.

Nia grabs the small item and says, “You’re a life saver, I owe you big time.” Inching on her tiptoes, she pecks me near the edge of my lips. It’s a small flutter, but it feels as though she just pressed hard with an iron. My hand on its own accord homes in to where her lips have just touched my skin. I watch her as she runs back inside the wall mirrored, illuminated room, thinking about the many ways she could repay me.

She fumbles with a laptop on a small, high table at the furthest side of the room. As I watch Nia, not yet even remotely ready to leave, the room starts littering in many shades of pink. Little ballerinas, looking alike, hover over Nia, wrapping their arms around her while she’s still crouched near the computer. Nia laughs, almost losing her balance. She claps next, and all the mini pink troopers align in front of her. They all mimic her moves as she goes through some more stretching.

Holy fuck! She spreads herself so widely on the floor, in an insane split. I’m just a second away from salivating. Perverted as it is, getting uncontrollably turned on while watching someone teach little girls dance steps, there’s still no going away. Enthusiastically, I remain cemented to my spot. The vision of Nia in the same position only with me under her is way too vivid and captivating to let vanish. My thoughts keep on bouncing from one pole to the opposite, from snapshots of wild sex to warm hugs. The way her eyes gleam as she watches the girls imitate her moves, the way her body slightly bends to the rhythm. The way her hair sways from side to side, gleaming in dark silkiness. I lean back on the wall and keep watching, enthralled.

One thing is more than clear, I want, more precisely
need,
her under me,
soon
. That righteous thought which made me stop that kiss last night can garb its fellow moralities friends and get lost. I’ll have to be shot first, twice, with missiles, before stopping anything with her again. When I check my watch I realize more than twenty minutes have passed since I started ogling. I try to catch Nia’s eyes to let her know I’m leaving, but my attempt is futile; she’s too caught up with her class.

“Are you working tonight?” Jake asks, slamming his palm on the top of a beer bottle he holds tilted against the table. A small tap is heard with the cap dropping to the floor. A wave of froth trails down the bottle’s narrow neck as he hands me the cold beverage.

He proceeds to open the next bottle in the same fashion as I answer, “I’m not sure yet.”

Still with the bottle held against the table’s side he cranes his neck to look my way. “And that would mean?” His auburn hair falls sideways with the slant of his face.

I return his gaze. Today is one of the rare times Jake is not wearing his leather jacket. You’d think it would somehow lessen his ragged appearance, but it doesn’t. The man oozes badass warning, something that gets him more ass than he can tap.

“Do you need me to work?” I ask and he shakes his head, tipping back to take a long swig of his drink. “So the answer is no.”

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” He leans back onto his wide, worn chair. He combs his fingers through his hair to remove the strands that have landed on his forehead, waiting for my answer.

“Is that a pick up line?” I ask. I’m rewarded with a snort. Not even a beat later, his expression morphs serious. “I’ll know soon,” I answer, well aware of his concern for me. He knows that it’s better I have my hands full. He knows that lately my thoughts are tearing at my seams. If I were a recovering alcoholic, I’d say Jake was my sponsor. Jake was the one who unofficially took me through my steps of grief after Ben died. Jake shoots me a querying glance. “I might have plans later… with someone,” I elaborate.

“Lady Plans?” His lips twitch at the side.

“Yeah.”

“Do I know her?”

“You kind of met her before.” His brows sink together, deepening his gaze at me.

“Talisker girl.” My answer is reciprocated with a reputable nod. We trade an appreciative silent assent in the form of a stare for the lady in subject. There’s no denying Nia is indeed someone who can be “appreciated” for hours.

“Okay, man, let’s talk business.” Jake lifts his legs to rest on the table. “The Russian has a major hard on for you, and you only.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I deadpan. Somehow I believe it’s more my client’s wife who wants me to bodyguard her brains out rather than actually keep her husband safe and sound.

“He offered 30k for a week. Thirty. Large. Ones. Reeves. For a fucking week.” I don’t even blink. Money means nothing to me, I have more than I can spend. Money that I wish I didn’t have. Money I got in place of parents. My stare bores into the cartons of beer aligned against the dark wall. Without breaking my fixation on the booze, I ask, “Where to this time?”