“You’re an idiot, Theo.
-Friend. I think I’m in love with your sister-in-law. She’s so fiery.
Rhett shakes his head as he turns to walk back into the house, Theo hot on his heels.
“Like I said, man, you’re an idiot.
The door closes and Jasper and I snuggle against each other again on the quiet bench.
“Well…” he begins, raising his arms up my back. Should we go in? I don’t want to miss dinner. It’s going to be good. And I realize.
-Yeah. I chuckle, kissing his bristly cheek. Let’s go.
I try to get out of his lap, but his hands imprison me and keep me where I am.
“First, can I go to the Nutcracker ?” I want to see you dancing. I want to be there. First row. A large bouquet of roses. Whole entire.
“You better be there, Gervais. -I smile at him, with my heart swelling in my chest. Having the people I love in the audience is the best, and my heart suddenly skips a beat at the loss I feel when it comes to my parents.
They may not be here, and I will spend Christmas without them for the first time in twenty-eight years.
My birthday is also this week. I idly wonder if I’ll miss it with them too.
But as we stand, Jasper squeezes my hand and pulls me closer. And there is nothing in the world that makes me feel better.
I can’t have them, but I have him. And the more time I spend living my own life, the more I think it’s a good change.
Jasper is worth it.
32
jasper
Beau: Dad told me you paid four times the face value for a ticket to see Sloane dance. They get paid too much to run across the ice with blades.
Jasper: It’s an investment.
Beau: In what?
Jasper: Us.
Beau: Oh, man. You are so gone.
Jasper: You’re an idiot.
Beau: Only you would have waited so long. I almost feel sorry for him that he fell in love with someone as slow as you. Do they give Olympic medals for patience? You could give him yours.
Jasper: You know what his asshole father told me.
Beau: Yeah. But that was then. That guy ain’t shit now. You’re fucking Jasper Gervais. Olympic gold medalist. Future Stanley Cup champion. Sports Illustrated cover model. Damn cousin.
Jasper: I’m so glad you’re alive. But I also hate you.
Beau: I hate you too, bro.
Sloane is amazing. Weave magic on stage.
I have known her body well for a couple of months, but I am still amazed by the way she moves, her attention to detail. From the tips of your toes to the tips of your fingers, it perfectly controls every movement without even trying.
He has stepped into this role and has done so with incomparable effort. She jumps across the stage and lands so softly that from the front row, I feel like I’m with her.
At the time . . oblivious to the ornate theater and all the people around me.
But she’s always had that effect on me. The ability to get me out of my mind just by chatting, dancing or putting a hand on my shoulder.
It’s like she and I are tied, but she’s the strong one. The pillar. And when the turbulent waters drag me down the river, all I have to do is follow the rope that ties me back to it.
It always takes me back to her.
Watching her do something she loves from the front row and not from the back of the stadium is something special. The spot where the tattoo is itches and I press my arm against it.
I missed the first one, but I wouldn’t miss the rest if I could help it, even if that means a grown man sitting alone in the front row at the ballet.
It seems like the least I could bear for her.
Because I love having her at my games, and I know she must feel the same. As the dancers line up to take their final bows, her eyes meet mine and a heart-stopping smile spreads across her captivating face.
And then I realize… I would do anything to see this girl smile.
As soon as the velvet curtain closes, I get up and head towards a side door that leads to the wings, where she told me to wait for her. But I don’t wait for it.
I’m impatient.
He pushes the revolving door, his fingers itching to touch her, his chest aching from having his head rest on it and his cock swollen from so much time watching her tight fucking body slide across the stage.
Thank goodness I didn’t see her dancing much when she joined the company. I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off her, and now I just don’t care.
Now I know that my hands belong to her.
“Can you tell me where Sloane Winthrop is?” I ask a woman walking down the dim hallway with a clipboard in her hand and her glasses pushed up on top of her head.
He looks me up and down with a blank expression.
-Who asks?
I hesitate, but only for a moment.
-Her boyfriend.
He looks at me again, slower this time, but with a small twist of his lips.
“Good for her.” It’s over there. The woman turns and points to the area she came from. Turn left when you reach the end and then down that hallway. The last door on the right.
I offer him a disgruntled smile, knowing there must have been conversations while Sloane and I were away. They announced her wedding to Sterling in the newspaper. His colleagues would have heard about it, maybe even known him.
-Thank you. I nod and walk past the woman, feeling her gaze on me as I head down the hallway. The backstage is a hive of activity. There are dancers all over the halls, laughing and chatting. I hear the snap of a champagne bottle as they relax for the Christmas holidays.
Turning left, I feel the pull. The pull towards Sloane. After years of denying myself the pleasure of her proximity, my body has lost all patience with me and desperately wants to be close to her.
My knuckles knock against the door labeled Sugarplum Fairy.
-One moment! Sloane’s voice only increases the tension in my body, and when she finally opens the door, I’m on top of her.
I put my hand on her neck and my lips crash against hers as I tower over her. She tenses for a moment, clearly surprised, but soon recovers. Her hands slide up the arms of my suit jacket as I walk her back to the dressing room, kicking the door shut.
He turned her around instantly, pushing her against the wall next to the door. Because right now we’re not going to go any further.
He looked too good. There were too many eyes on her. More than just mine. And I feel a little unmoored and very territorial.
“Hi, Jas,” she huffs playfully against my lips, but all I return is a low growl as I take her mouth again. My hands slide through the thin cotton robe that wraps around her slender body. After a few well-given tugs, it disappears and accumulates at your feet, on the floor, where it should be.
“You were perfect,” he sighed, looking over her. Wide eyes and heaving chest. A flimsy bodysuit over tights. Sneakers out. The ornate costume is gone.
-Yeah?