In the Air (6 page)

Other than the music overhead, I didn't hear anything else. I peeked back out from behind the curtain, jumping back when I saw his eyes staring dead into mine.

"Natalia? What are you doing here?" He walked toward me with a puzzled look on his face. Without giving me a chance to answer, he continued, "You weren't spying on me, were you?"

As he reached me, I noticed that he didn't seem as drunk as he had thirty minutes ago. His blue eyes were bloodshot, but other than that, he seemed completely sober.

"I wasn't spying on you, I–"

He cut me off before I could finish. "Don't even worry about it, doll. I'm used to people trying to get a behind-the-scenes look at my routines." His index finger pointed to the curtain I stood next to. "You really have no reason to hide from me."

A behind-the-scenes look at his routines? Was this guy serious?

"I wasn't hiding! If you had let me finish, you would have heard that I was here before you!" I realized I was raising my voice, but his accusations were ludicrous.

"Then why were you hiding behind a curtain?" he asked. "You know what? It doesn't even matter." He started to walk away, but stopped when he heard my voice.

"What if I
was
spying on your routine? Can't take a little criticism?" I had a good feeling my question would get under his skin. A person who was shallower than a puddle with an ego the size of the Pacific Ocean was bound to become perturbed when their deepest fear was found out.

Samson turned around with a scowl. I heard his heavy breathing over the soft music.

"Critiqued? By you? Listen, sweetheart, you may be good, but you're not up to my level." Samson jerked his body around and began walking to the front of the room.

"Oh yeah? Want to wager on that?" I yelled.

"I don't make bets anymore. I always win," he countered. A smile formed on his lips, but his eyes turned villainous. "Just to make it fair, why don't you show me what you auditioned with to get here?"

It just so happened that the piece I auditioned with had the power to derail him. "Okay," I said simply.

The same song from earlier was playing on loop. It was such a delicate piece, but the tension in the room was depleting any sort of beauty it held. I walked to the stereo, turning off his song and replacing it with my own – "Falling," sung by a favorite musician of mine, Jeffrey James. As the music began, I glided across the floor, knowing his eyes were studying me. I was aware he would analyze my every move, so I had to do my best. As I prepared myself for my grand jeté, I looked over at Samson and winked, hoping it would piss him off. Landing perfectly, I melted into my next step. I knew that if he and I were to have actually taken bets, he would've been walking away without his cocky, self-absorbed attitude. When I finished with a triple pirouette on pointe, I looked to the ceiling, the knowing smile remaining on my face.

I gazed at Samson, who was now leaning against the back wall, his ankles crossed. The smug look that I was now well acquainted with spread across his face.

"So, that's how they train ballet dancers in Iowa?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" The happiness I held from my performance dissolved and was immediately replaced with anger. The unimpressed look he wore reminded me of my mother. My temper grew thinking of how dissatisfied my dancing had made her, and now Samson was acting the same. "What the hell is your problem? Why don't you take a look around and realize that people aren't bending down to kiss your feet." My cheeks began to flush and I knew that in no time, I'd have red splotches all over my face and chest. "And by the way, I'm from Illinois!"

"I just thought you'd want a few pointers from your partner, but it looks like you're the one that can't handle criticism." Samson sauntered over to me with a devious look in his eyes. "Practice with me." When he grabbed my waist, I tried pushing against his chest to release his death grip.

"Let go of me, Samson!" My anger erupted. When I was finally able to untangle his hands and push him away, I briskly walked to the back of the room to grab my things.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I heard his footsteps tailing me and knew that if I didn't get away from him and calm down, I might slap the pretty off his face.

"We may as well practice together since we're both here. No point in wasting time."

Apparently he wasn't picking up on how bothered I was. I turned to face Samson. He said the words with superiority, but the look on his face hinted at an apology. "What is your problem? Were you raised by wild animals or something?"

"I'm not good at apologies, so I'll just say that I'm sorry you can't take a joke." His grin grew wider with each second that passed.

"There's something seriously wrong with you." I shook my head, laughing at the thick tension remaining between us.

"Can we just forget about all the drama and practice? I promise I'll keep my mouth shut the entire time," Samson said in a mocking tone.

I huffed and squinted my eyes in thought. "Fine, but only on one condition."

"What's that, doll?" He stepped forward, entering my personal space.

"You quit calling me
doll
. My name is Natalia. Stop with the nicknames or my foot might accidentally trip you while we're practicing, and oops, there goes your ankle!" As I walked past him, I bumped his shoulder, and made my way over to the stereo. "Let's get this over with." I jerked my neck, commanding him to join me in the center of the room.

The song I chose was by a band called Half Moon Run. It was a slow, passionate song, but if I was being honest with myself, I was curious to see how well he could move. I may have hated the overconfidence that seemed to flow through his veins, but his talent canceled out the bitter feelings.

As the words, "If you breathe in, I breathe in," played, Samson's gaze penetrated into mine. We stood close to each other; the only sound in the room was the music. Between the sensuality of the song and the way he looked at me, the moment was flawless.

The mood shifted in the space between us. When he reached out to take my hand, I exhaled slowly, feeling my skin tingle from his touch. The earlier tension faded and all that was left was passion. He brought his body to mine and wrapped his arms around my waist. His lips hovered near my ear and I waited with anticipation, hoping he wouldn't ruin the serene moment.

"You smell so good," he quietly whispered.

As I comprehended his words, the barricade I built came crashing down. My body began to move along with his as we slowly circled the room.

"I'm gonna do a presage lift. Are you okay with that?"

I knew he was just trying to be respectful and test my talents against his own, but I somehow felt he doubted my abilities. "Yes, I can do a presage lift," I said with certainty.

"Just making sure, doll," he said as he readied himself behind me.

My arms reached up as I stood on pointe. As soon as Samson's hand touched my waist, a familiar tremble passed through my body. His other arm wrapped around my thigh, and without much effort, he lifted me above his head. As he held me high, I felt as if I was floating.

Samson dropped his right arm too early, and within seconds, my body was falling to the ground. Just as my butt hit the hard floor, Samson grabbed hold of my forearms. It was too late. My ass was already screaming in pain.

"Fuck! Are you okay?" Samson kneeled down, his face full of concern.

"Ouch," I whined, "I think you broke my ass." I wanted to cry from the pain, but whimpering was the only response I could muster.

Samson dropped to his knees, his hands on each of my shoulders. "We should probably get some ice on that."

I frowned, knowing that within thirty minutes, my butt would be completely black and blue.

"You
would
want to ice my behind," I rolled away from Samson so he couldn't see me pout. "You did that on purpose!"

"I would never drop you on purpose, Natalia."

His tone was serious and I knew that my accusation upset him, but I was in pain and couldn't help but lash out. I turned to look at Samson and saw the worry on his face. I knew he felt awful for dropping me. I'm sure he also hated that he'd made a mistake.

"I believe you, but my ass is still aching," I said as I looked at him. I started to laugh, trying to trick my brain from thinking about the pain.

"Seriously, are you alright? Are you going to live or do I need to carry you to the ER?" He bent over my body, trying to look me in the eye.

"Shut up. I'll be fine." I slowly stood up, hoping the pain would subside. He followed, making sure I was able to stand on my own. His hand found my elbow, and the contact made me completely forget about the pain.

"Should we try that again?" Samson asked.

I stepped away from his hold, my eyes wide with surprise. "Are you nuts? I'm not going to risk getting hurt again just so you can prove a point. Absolutely not." The pain began to intensify, so I sat back down, putting most of my weight on my right cheek. Samson joined, facing me.

The lyrics, "trust is quicksand, claiming everything I have. All to give me life," played as his eyes focused on mine. Samson slowly licked his lips and moved his body closer.

"Samson, I –"

His lips met mine, but I wasn't as repulsed as I thought I would be. I was surprised at how alive it made me feel. For the few seconds our lips touched, desire built within me.

Samson pulled away. Confusion fell on his face as he stood up. "It's getting late." He grabbed his gym bag from the floor and walked to the door. He looked back at me with a satisfied look on his face, his hand on the doorknob. "Get some ice on that backside, doll."

The door slammed and I was left on the cold floor, alone, with an aching ass.
See what happens when you let your guard down, Natalia?

When my lips touched Natalia's, the emptiness I thought had taken a permanent place inside me vanished. Knowing that confusion was sure to set in any minute, I convinced myself to forget what had just happened between us and get some rest. Minutes later, or so it seemed, I was awoken by an incredibly irritating sound.

That sound couldn't be more annoying. What in God's name is that sound?
As I slowly peeled one eye open, I noticed my phone was lighting up like the Fourth of July. I reached to turn the incessant alarm off and saw the time staring back at me.

"Fuck! How am I always late?" Jumping out of bed, I realized I had no time to shower and threw on the first thing my hand touched. My mouth tasted like I had licked cat litter and then rinsed it out with a quart of spoiled milk. Throwing a piece of gum in my mouth, I rushed to rehearsal, stopping when the doorknob wouldn't turn. It was locked. I knocked, but no one answered. I'd heard about this sort of thing before. If you were late to a class, the teacher would lock the door and not allow you in.
Fuck
. It was only my second day, and I had already screwed up. I knocked harder, hoping Madame Dampier would have pity on me. After a few moments of standing alone in the hallway, the door finally opened and I was immediately met with the glaring eyes of my teacher.

"Samson, can I help you?" Madame Dampier asked sharply.

"I'm sorry. I woke up late, and –"

"I don't care to hear your excuses. If this happens again, you'll be removed from my class. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, Madame Dampier," I faintly responded. She moved aside so that I could walk into the studio. Noticing Natalia and her friend in the back corner, I went to the opposite side of the room.

"Now that we've all made it to class," the teacher gave me a grim look, "let's begin at the barre."

Seeing Natalia take the barre by the window, I chose to take the other one. I wasn't prepared for the awkward conversation that was sure to occur.

After thirty minutes of pliés, tondues, and dégagés, Madame Dampier instructed us to join our partners. When I saw Natalia walking my way, I was forced to reflect on the night before.

Being near Natalia made me feel things I'd never felt before. Of course, I wasn't going to let her see that side of me. Yet. I knew it was a dick move, leaving her last night after I dropped her, but the feeling I got from kissing her was alarming. I wasn't supposed to get that feeling when kissing someone other than Aubrey. The guilt I should have felt was nonexistent, and that alone made me feel horrible.