As I sat down on the couch, I laughed to myself. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too. That saying was perfect for this situation. Could I continue this friendship with Carys without giving her the wrong impression? I wanted to keep whatever this was going, but given my growing attraction to her, was that realistic? I needed to be careful, maybe take a step back.
Carys returned to the living room carrying two giant mounds of chocolate cake. She handed me mine and sat down. I watched as she took a huge bite of hers and moaned.
“Sorry. I get a little too excited over chocolate.” She laughed, covering her mouth.
Well, I get a little too excited watching you eat it. And yet, I continued to stare at her mouth, anticipating each time she’d open it, enjoying every little sound that came out.
The more I looked over at her, the more I wished I could have seen her dance.
“Do you still dance?”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you mean?”
“I know you don’t dance professionally. But do you ever…dance…when you’re alone…for yourself? Maybe that’s a dumb question. I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s not dumb at all.” She wiped her mouth. “I actually do sometimes. Just to make sure I still have it. It’s not the way it would be if I were up on stage, but yeah, sometimes I’ll randomly put on my toe shoes and do an arabesque in front of the mirror.” She turned a little red. “I can’t believe I’m admitting that.”
“I think it’s awesome. What’s an arabesque?”
She pointed to the framed picture on her bookshelf. “Arabesque is what I’m doing in that photo over there. It’s one of the hardest positions, even though it might look easy. I should say, it’s not easy to do it correctly. The perfect turn out…lifted up and forward, relaxed elbow…the right arm placement. No two people do it exactly the same, because everyone’s body is different.” Shaking her head, she said, “Anyway, I’m going off on a tangent.” She rolled her eyes. “Ballet nerd.”
She’s so damn cute. “Your passion is palpable. Just because you stop doing something every day, doesn’t mean you can’t have that kind of love for it. That’s within you.”
She hesitated. “Would you want to…” Then she shook her head. “Never mind.”
My heart beat faster. What the heck was she going to ask me? I needed to know. “Say what you were going to say.”
Her cheeks grew redder. “Would you want to see a video of me dancing?”
A relief came over me. Jesus. For a split second, I thought she was going to ask me if I wanted something else. Did I really believe she’d ask if I wanted to go back to her bedroom? Christ, Deacon. Get your mind out of the fucking gutter.
“I would love that,” I said.
“I have one of our old performances on DVD. I haven’t watched it in ages.”
“Break it out. I’m dying to see it.”
She stood up. “Okay, let me get it.”
I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants as she took off in search of the DVD.
When she returned, I could’ve sworn I saw her hand tremble as she popped it into the DVD player.
“Are you nervous to show me?”
Carys smiled shyly. “A little.”
“Don’t be.”
She pressed play. At first, the camera was so far away, it was hard to tell which dancer was her.
“I’m easy to spot. That’s me in black,” she said, pointing to the screen. “We were performing Swan Lake.”
“The Black Swan. I don’t know ballet, but I know enough to know you’re the Black Swan.”
“You must have seen the movie with Natalie Portman.” She laughed.
“I did, indeed.” I sat transfixed. The orchestral music, the lighting—this was the real deal.
A guy dressed in tights lifted Carys into the air, her legs spreading apart with impressive flexibility. After landing on her feet, she twirled with beautiful precision. The smile on her face exuded confidence and pride as she lifted onto her toes and raised her arms as if reaching for the stars. She was a star. And seeing this drove home the loss she’d suffered. This hadn’t been a hobby. This was a calling. My heart broke to know it had been taken from her.
Her male partner almost seemed like a tool to showcase Carys’s talent. He guided her along, but she was the focal point. She really shined when she danced alone. Without the guy invading her space, Carys spun around free as a bird. Flawless.
“It’s like I can feel your emotions,” I told her. “Not only by looking at your expressions but in your movements.”
“That’s pretty much the biggest compliment you could give me.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “One of my teachers used to say that was the difference between a good dancer and a great one. She said our purpose in a performance was not to simply move our bodies or entertain, but to express our emotions through dance. Then ideally, those feelings would also be experienced by anyone watching. So I always tried to keep that in mind.”
“It’s fucking beautiful.” My eyes met hers. “Truly.” I didn’t merely mean it. I meant her.
Her eyes glistened. “Thank you.”
For the first time in a long time, I felt like tearing up, too, and it had nothing to do with my own shit. What a tremendous loss she’d suffered—the world had suffered the day this woman stopped being able to perform. The emotions pummeling me were too much. It was time to go before I did or said something I’d regret. I didn’t want to be rude and leave before she turned off the video. But I vowed to make my exit at the first opportunity.
“I’m blown away by your talent,” I told her when the video ended. “Thank you again for showing it to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Carys put the DVD back in the case and stared at it a moment before snapping it closed.
“I think I should probably head back,” I said.
She seemed surprised. “Oh…okay. Yeah. It’s getting late, I suppose.”
“Yeah.”
We stood and faced each other. A few tense seconds passed—tense seconds where the right thing to do felt like kissing her, even though I knew that would be very wrong.
Carys rubbed her arms. “Thank you for coming.”
“Are you kidding? Thank you for having me, for preparing that amazing food, for listening to my sob story, and most of all, for sharing that video with me. It really means a lot that you did.”
“After what you told me tonight, I definitely felt more comfortable.”
“Yeah.” I smiled, and after a few seconds of awkward silence, I said, “Well…have a good night.”
I wasn’t prepared for her to reach out and hug me. I stiffened. But once the initial shock passed, I relaxed into her embrace. Feeling my heartbeat accelerate, I moved back before it became too obvious that her touch had wreaked havoc on me.
I nodded and didn’t say anything else, heading to my apartment in a brain fog.
CHAPTER 8
Carys
DID YOU LOOK IN MY BOX?