“Crispin!” Eric calls.
I look up and see a group of dancers turn and look over at us. My step falters as I see that Manon is among them, her gleaming brunette hair in a perfect bun, her lilac leotard and hot pink leg warmers looking chic. She notices me right away, her expression going from a smirk to a glare in three seconds flat.
“Uh uh,” Ella says, reaching out her hand to pull me to a stop about ten feet away from Manon. She raises her voice. “Don’t infect the new guys with your sickness, Manon. No ballet bullies need apply.”
Manon crosses her arms, her glare now encompassing us both. “Well, if it isn’t Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Can’t Dance.”
Eric steps in front of us, ready to defend us. But Ella isn’t about to let anyone talk badly about her. She silences him with a gesture.
“You and I have always had a problem with each other, Manon. You don’t like my skin color. I don’t like trifling little white girls with sticks up their asses. But now you’re here at my company, about to trick the new people into thinking you are worth something. I am just not ready for that today.”
Manon folds her arms across her chest and tosses her head with a smirk. “And yet, here I am. I’m more talented than the three of you combined, so…”
One of her group steps toward us, sliding Manon a look. He’s short and very pale, with pale blond features and a bright yellow track suit on. “I’ve seen you dance when you were still in the academy,” he says, shrugging. “It was only okay.”
Eric glances back at me, jerking his head at the guy. “That’s Crispin.”
Manon regards him flatly. “You only made the cut because you’re a teensy, tiny male dancer, okay? Run along now, let the big kids talk.”
Crispin’s cheeks grow violently red. “You’re a fucking bitch!”
“Okay!” I call, motioning to Crispin. “Come on. I have found that with Manon, it’s best not to feed the beast. Your hate just eggs her on. Let’s go grab a coffee or something.”
I hold out a hand and stare at Crispin. He looks at me, taking me in, and swallows. For a second, I think he’s going to go right back to yelling at Manon.
But he doesn’t. Crispin walks straight over to me, gives me a once over, and then grabs me. I’m taken by surprise when he spins me into his arms and dips me, ending with a passionate kiss.
I freeze as he manhandles me, blinking. This close, Crispin’s hands are clammy and his track suit has the distinct odor of moth balls. I bring my hands up and give his chest a push.
Only then does he pull me back up and release me. I stare at him, stunned.
I literally don’t know what to make of what just happened, other than the fact that it basically had nothing to do with me.
Manon gives us a sarcastically slow round of applause. “The dork and the dweeb find love at first sight. How nice. You guys should go set the Santa Fe Ballet world on fire.”
I step out of Crispin’s hold, my head turning to Manon. “Fuck off. I bet you don’t last a month at NYB.”
She smiles coolly. “I have a sponsor already, so that’s unlikely.”
“Hey, did someone mention coffee?” Eric jumps in. “I say we go get some and leave this weird playground fight here.”
Manon rolls her eyes. “You guys are so fucking lame.”
She turns and skips down the front steps, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. I frown at her.
How does Manon have a sponsor before the ballet has even performed for the public?
Crispin offers me the crook of his elbow. “Milady?”
I hesitate for a moment. Ella does me the huge favor of swooping in and dragging me away. “Nope! She’s with me.” She winks at me. “Come on. Let’s go to Heart Coffee. They always have such good matcha.”
I mouth thanks to her. She puts her arm around me, giving me a hug.
“That was intense,” she says, looking back in the direction of where Manon went.
“Yeah.” I wrinkle my nose. “I can’t believe I didn’t stand up for myself. Not with Manon, not with…”
I slide a look back at Crispin, who is walking arm in arm with Eric.
Ella scrunches up her face. “You do need to learn how to stick up for yourself. I mean, you know I’ll always jump in. But I’m not always around.”
I bump her hip with my own. She giggles, doing it back to me.
“Maybe you can help me come up with some zingers that I can squirrel away. Just to have some locked and loaded.”
She shakes her head, snorting. “It’s not about having the words at your disposal. It’s more about being ready to verbally spar with anyone, anywhere.”
I pout a little. “I wasn’t raised with those kinds of defenses.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “That’s the whitest thing I’ve heard you say all day. Seriously, that’s just straight up a terrible excuse.”
My cheeks go pink. “Yes, mother.”
She grins, patting her hair. “You wish your genes were as good as mine. We have really graceful arches on our feet and we are all petite and delicate.”
I can’t argue with that. We walk up to Heart Coffee, jostling and chatting. My phone buzzes when I’m in line; two missed texts from Calum.
I sneak a glance at Ella, then decide not to take a chance. There is no real reason to gamble on getting caught when I can just step outside.
“Hey. Will you get me a small matcha? I’ll be right back.” I wave a twenty dollar bill in front of Ella’s face. “I’ll pay for yours, too…”
“Yup.” She takes the money. “Hurry back. Don’t leave me with these boys.”
I shoulder my duffel bag and walk out of Heart, going only a few feet away to the next store. Parking myself against the wall, I look down at my screen.
I was thinking about you for the entire class today, his text reads. Every time I looked at you, I got fucking hard.
I blush and sink my top teeth into my lower lip. Scrolling down, I see an address and a time.
2128 Fifth Avenue. 4 pm.
I can’t help but grin at that. Not only did I make class a little harder for him… but he wants more of me. A little shiver of anticipation slides down my spine as I think of what he could have planned for us in… I look at my watch.
God, I have to be there in under an hour.
“Hey,” a woman’s voice says.
I look up. I’m surprised to find Honor standing there, looking like a tiny blonde super model in her chic black leather dress and black heels.
I flush. “Hey?”
She shoves a packet of papers at me. I take them, my brow furrowing. “What are these?”
Honor tosses her head, smiling coolly. “I’ve taken the liberty of calling my contacts in five other cities and finding you a good spot.”
I squint at her, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry. What now?”
She crosses her arms, her expression growing impatient. “London. Paris. San Francisco. Seattle. Take your pick of the classical ballet companies. They will accept you into their ranks without you even trying out.”