Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Rudy.” He came, hot and urgent against my stomach. The novelty of him going first was enough to tip me over as well.
“Alexander.” I gritted out his name as my climax pummeled me, harsh waves that swept through me, clearing out every stray thought until all I knew was him. I clung to him as our come mingled. We kissed our way softly back to ourselves.
Finally, Alexander broke away enough to grab a nearby towel from my shower before the party, a million years ago. He cleaned us up before rejoining me under the covers.
“I am going to miss you terribly.” He held me so tightly I could feel his heart hammering and the rise and fall of his breath.
“Part of me doesn’t want to sleep.” I gave a bitter chuckle at the juvenile impulse to stave off the inevitable. Sleep meant waking, which meant goodbye, and I wanted to bypass all of that and hibernate here forever.
“We can sleep later.” Alexander kissed my head. “I don’t want to waste a second.”
“We could always play a game to stay awake,” I offered.
“I love that idea.” He gave me the saddest of smiles. Consequently, dawn found us wrapped in piles of covers, sitting in the center of my bed, playing cards and ignoring the rising sun. Eventually, we would have to sleep. Goodbye wouldn’t wait forever, but I let myself pretend a little longer.
Twenty-Nine
En arrière: to travel backward.
Alexander
I landed back in Seattle on a cold, gray, rainy afternoon that perfectly echoed my mood. My apartment was hauntingly empty. I collected a stack of mail, nearly all of which was marketing materials. Absent my mother’s eye for cozy style or Rudy’s colorful thrift tastes, my apartment felt sterile, shades of black and gray that echoed the weather. Had I put thought into a single item in the place? My fridge was bare, and I couldn’t be bothered to deal with groceries, so I placed an order for takeout I didn’t eat and climbed into bed, where I didn’t sleep.
I missed Rudy. No surprise there. But I also missed the pool house and chicken soup and the smell right before a big snowstorm. I missed our nightly routine of playing the game. Hell, I missed ice on my knee, and Rudy taking care of me. I missed kissing and sex and simply being close. He was right though. I had unfinished business here. I’d had no choice but to return, but I’d left a part of me behind in Pennsylvania.
In the morning, after a sleepless night, I trudged into the Seattle Ballet Company’s studio for class. Time to march right back into the life I’d left. No one here would care about my moping around. Accordingly, I showed up early, worked hard, and pushed through all the distractions that wanted to trip me up. I was a ballet robot, cold and clinical but technically perfect, each move carefully calculated to win the approval of the artistic director who’d arrived to watch my first class back.
“Alexander!” Patrice waited until after class to approach me as the other dancers took their break. She was a legendary evaluator of talent, and I had no doubt she’d decided on my next three roles simply from observing me during class. “You’re looking strong. No lingering tightness or pain?”
“No pain.” Well, no pain in my knee, but we weren’t discussing my heart.
I couldn’t afford to be anything other than confident with other dancers milling around. It was a blessing to be part of such a large, prestigious company, but the talent glut made for hungry younger dancers waiting for an opportunity to break through. Patrice had been nothing other than supportive during my recovery, and my fellow dancers had said all the right things upon my return. However, I couldn’t shake the worry that I hadn’t truly been missed.
As Patrice continued her pointed questions, I glanced around the large studio. Did I know any of these people? I’d been to a few of their parties. I’d danced with several for a decade now. Yet I couldn’t say as I knew any of their non-dancing interests or significant others’ names, or kept up with their major life events.
Shame on me. I knew more about the people in Rudy’s play group than I did my longtime coworkers. That thought dogged me the rest of the day. In the late afternoon, I emerged from the building that housed the studio and company offices into another gloomy day. It wasn’t quite four, yet what little light there was had already started to dim.
Welcome to January in Seattle. I had zero desire to be alone all night in my apartment with my depressing musings. Unfortunately, I had equally low desire to fetch groceries or do anything else of use, so I ended up wandering from the office building past our theater into the rest of the Seattle Center area. After passing the stadium, as I neared the International Fountain, my phone buzzed in my coat pocket. I almost ignored it, but what if it was Rudy?