"I don't really know."
"You like him, right?"
I look at her as I steam some milk for a customer's latte and she prompts me, "Right?"
Snapping the lid on the cup, I walk over and hand it to the girl who's waiting on the other side of the counter. Roxy steps next to me as she hands a drink to another customer. We walk back over to the machines and I finally admit, "I do."
When she looks at me, I clarify, "Like him. I do."
A sincere smile slowly creeps across her face and I become embarrassed. "Stop!"
"Oh, come on Candace! Give me a break here. I've known you for almost three years and you have never shown an interest in anyone. Let me enjoy this."
"You're embarrassing me."
"Sweetie, everything embarrasses you. Get over it," she says with a sincere smirk.
As we continue to fill drink orders, Roxy begins asking a multitude of questions, all of which I avoid answering. When the last drink is made and the shop calms down, we both take a seat and relax from the Monday morning rush.
"Well, even though you won't tell me anything, I'm happy for you."
"Thanks. Now will you stop?" I tease.
"For the time being, I'll stop," she says with a grin.
My phone chimes from under the counter. When I retrieve it, I see I have a missed text from Ryan.
Your photo from yesterday is almost finished. Touching up the lighting.
Getting off work in 30 min. Can I stop by?
Yeah.
"Ryan?" Roxy pries.
"Didn't you just say you would stop?"
Laughing, she teases me again. "So secretive."
"I'm going to the back to refill the syrup bottles. Yell for me if it gets busy."
"Yeah, yeah," she says as she waves me away.
It's nice to be able to joke around with Roxy again. The tension has definitely lightened in the past few weeks, and I know the reason for that is waiting for me at his loft right now.
I can't contain my smile when I think about us in his bed yesterday. The way my skin tingles when he kisses me, the way I soften when he holds me, the fluttering I feel when he whispers his words to me. Even though it's all so new, it's also so comforting.
I could tell he was disappointed when I didn't spend the night with him, but he understands that I don't feel comfortable being there every night. Although I love being with him, I'm still scared about moving forward.
When the bottles are refilled, I walk back into the store and put them back on the shelf. I start to gather my things and clock out.
As I'm walking out the door, Roxy can't help herself when she says loudly, "Tell your hot-ass boyfriend I said 'hi.'"
I roll my eyes at her as I open the door to leave.
Leaning against Ryan's desk, he hands me the large matte, and I cannot believe how well the photo turned out. Everything is black except for the curve of the back—my back—which is a striking muted grey with a shadow cast along the spine—my spine.
I stand there, staring at the photo, every detail of the photo. When I do look up, Ryan is focused on me with a grin on his face.
"What?" I ask.
"You."
"Me?"
Stepping in front of me, he takes the matte out of my hands and places it on the desk behind me. He slides his arms around my waist and pulls me into him and says, "You're f**king amazing," and kisses me with an intensity I haven't felt from him before. I let myself fall into him as his lips tangle with mine. When he dips his tongue in my mouth, I can taste the coolness that is left over from the mints he's addicted to. I feel so connected to him right now, and I never want to lose this feeling. So, when he breaks our kiss, I can't help the moan that creeps past my lips.
He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against mine, and I can hear his heavy breaths. Placing my hands on his face, I move in to selfishly kiss him, to feel the warmth of his touch on me. Gripping my waist, he lifts me onto his desk as he stands between my legs. Holding the back of my head, he intensifies our kiss, and I let him take more control than I have in the past.
When his shoulders tense up under my hands, he pulls away. I know it's hard for him to stop himself when we are together like this.
"Do you know how hard it was to concentrate on touching up that photo of you?
As I shake my head, he tells me, "You're so f**king beautiful."
I believe him when he says those words to me. I might not feel that way in a day from now, or even an hour from now. But right now, in this moment—I believe him.
Chapter twenty-seven
After studio ends, Ms. Emerson asks me to stay so that she can watch how my solo is progressing. Last time I rehearsed with her, it was a disaster. I'm beginning to feel the power of the piece when I dance. I know she wants me to focus on myself when I hear the music, but I just can't go to that place yet. Instead, I think about Ryan and everything he's told me about growing up and the violence in his house. It's been enough to help me better connect with the piece.
"Okay, Candace. Are you ready?" she asks as she grabs the remote to the stereo and takes her place at the front of the room.
"Yes." I walk to the center and place my feet in fifth position, waiting for the music to begin. When the strings begin to echo through the speakers, I slowly relevè on my pointes and begin my series of chainès across the floor. The low hum of the cello vibrates within my chest as I work through the movements. My heart thumps harder with the staccato brushes of the violins, and I'm spot on when I turn into my fouettè sequence. I flow through the progressions and the twinge in my stomach courses through my body as the music slowly fades into nothingness.