“You were amazing today, Rouse. You’re gonna shine at the performance.”
“Stunning. I’m totally jealous, in a good way.”
“Flawless.”
The compliments that should’ve boosted my ego only made me dismiss the people I shouldn’t ask for feedback after a performance. I’d made mistakes, and I needed to fix them. That’s what I wanted to hear, but apparently, everyone was thrilled with my disastrous jetés at the end of rehearsal. The performance was tomorrow, and I felt like it was going to be a complete mess. The nerves—knowing that scouts from Wilmor University would be watching me—were working against me. I had to focus.
I forced a smile as I looked at the bouquets of flowers in my tiny dressing room. The rest of my teammates seemed overjoyed with the little gifts they’d received. All I could think about was how those flowers would wilt, and the place would start smelling like a funeral home.
I changed out of my rehearsal clothes, slipped into a loose dress, and sat in front of the mirror to do my makeup. I was always the last one to leave. No one else stuck around to get ready with the same attention to detail I did. Rehearsals left us all exhausted, but no amount of tiredness in the world would let me step out onto the street looking anything less than put-together.
Satisfied with my reflection, I stood up, packed my things into my bag, put on my headphones, and played some disco music to ease my mind a little.
“See you tomorrow, Franco. I tossed out all the flowers they left for you, so no need to check the dressing rooms.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Miss Herrero. At this rate, you’ll take my job.”
“Your job is to maintain the theater, not clean up other people’s messes,” I said firmly. “I’ve told them countless times, but tomorrow I’m dumping an entire trash can in their dressing rooms to see if they finally get the message.”
I was surprised to hear him laugh. He knew full well I wasn’t joking, and usually, he’d tell me not to be so difficult.
“Soon you’ll be at Wilmor, so you can do whatever you want.”
“Franco, that doesn’t sound like something you’d say,” I teased. “But I’ll hold you to it. Still, don’t assume I’m getting into Wilmor just yet. It’s not a done deal. I have to give it everything tomorrow.”
“Of course you’ll make it. You’re the most talented dancer I’ve seen come through this theater, and I’ve been working here for years.” I gave him a grateful nod, touched by his words. “By the way, Mrs. Taylor had to leave for an emergency, but she said your jetés looked like a clumsy two-and-a-half-year-old’s.”
I smiled, pleased. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me tonight. Don’t you think my teacher is just the sweetest?”
Franco looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Sure.”
No one liked Ms. Taylor, but to me, her tough attitude was refreshing. Her honesty and harshness were exactly what I needed to become the best.
I said goodbye and climbed the stairs to the exit, humming along to the song and bobbing my head to the beat of “Let’s Groove.”
That song always lifted my spirits in a huge way.
It was late. Luckily, the area around the theater was one of the safest in the city, and the bus always stopped right out front. All I had to do was stand there and wait.
I went over the choreography in my head again and again, picturing the mistakes I’d made during rehearsal. Ms. Taylor would definitely point them out tomorrow, but I wanted to fix them before she even had the chance.
I was starting to carve out my path for the future.
A long time ago, I’d attended a performance at Wilmor’s amphitheater, and seeing the dancers walk out in their university jackets and gorgeous pink uniforms made me dream of studying there. More than anything, I wanted to earn that scholarship, and I wasn’t going to do it with sloppy jetés.
I frowned as I felt something hit my back. I turned around and looked down. It was a small pebble. I glanced up and noticed the bushes in front of the theater.
“What the—?!” I stepped back, stunned, as I saw a guy in the bushes, shirtless.
What was a half-naked guy doing in the bushes?!
Was he some kind of creep?
He motioned for me to come closer.
“Yeah, right. I’m running over there,” I said sarcastically.
From where I stood, the guy looked pretty good-looking. We were at a safe distance.
His blond hair and striking features were attractive enough to make me reconsider going over. Not out of fear, but because tomorrow was the most important performance of my life, and the last thing I needed was a distraction. I stuck to a strict routine before performances to avoid any mishaps. This distraction was a major detour from my usual monotony.
He kept mouthing the word “Come” with his lips. The poor guy looked desperate. That’s what finally softened me up and brought out my humanity. I walked over and stopped in front of him, one eyebrow raised, hands on my hips, waiting for an explanation.
Holy cow, he wasn’t just attractive. He was drop-dead gorgeous.
Up close, I could see he had stunning blue eyes framed by long, golden lashes.
I had to think of unpleasant things to keep my expression neutral and not let myself get charmed by the way his gaze swept over me from head to toe, clearly taken aback. It was a reaction I saw often from guys who met me, but this one in particular stirred something in me I couldn’t quite place.
I felt good knowing I had some effect on him because he’d triggered something no one else ever had—a powerful, overwhelming effect on me.
“Thanks for taking pity on me.
Bless the devil.”
His voice was smooth and sensual, like every word caressed your ear.
He’s a homeless guy, Rouse!
“A very hot homeless guy. I could just pick him up and take him home. A quick wash, some flea treatment, anti-lice shampoo, and he’s good to go.”
Enough. Stop it.
I pressed my lips together and crossed my arms. This wasn’t the time to show weakness to a naked guy in a bush. Those were always the best traps.
“I’m calling the cops right now. You’d better— Wait, you don’t have any clothes?”
He grabbed the bushes to cover his chest, looking embarrassed. The gesture made me want to laugh, but I kept my cool, unflappable demeanor.
“Some guys jumped me and took everything. I’m fine with you calling the cops.”
“They took your underwear too?”
“Either they were really desperate, or it was a sick joke. I hope it’s the latter because they got my design notebook.” He huffed. His hostile expression softened when he looked at me, and he pouted. “By any chance… do you have some clothes you could lend me?”
“How do I know this isn’t a trick?”
“If you help me, I’ll take you out to dinner.”
I laughed, incredulous. “That sounds more like a reward for your charm than for my kindness.”
“You think I’m charming?” he asked, amused.
Very charming. Scratch that—beyond charming.
“I just met you, and you got robbed of your clothes. Right now, you seem a little pathetic. Still, I’ll help you.” I opened my bag and handed him my rehearsal clothes. “You can wear this while I call the cops.
He took the clothes and eyed them suspiciously. “Is this…?”
“A pink leotard, yeah. And there’s a top. I’ll call the police now.”
I pulled out my phone and quickly glanced around to make sure this wasn’t some kind of kidnapping setup. I looked back at him and signaled with my fingers that I had my eyes on him. He raised his hands and gave me a look like he couldn’t hurt a fly. When I glanced back at the theater entrance, I saw Mr. Franco stepping out.
“Miss Herrero, what are you still doing here?” He frowned as he looked toward the bushes. “Young Donovan?”
“Hey, Franco.”
“You know this guy?”
“Young Donovan is the one painting the mural at the theater, Miss Herrero.”
I turned back to the guy, surprised by this new info. I loved that mural. I’d never had the chance to meet the person behind it. He came in the mornings and left in the afternoons, while I arrived in the morning and left at night. But I did see his progress on the mural every time I got to the theater, and it was incredible work. Sometimes, I’d stop on the steps before going in to admire the half-finished piece and imagine how amazing it would look when it was done.
I ended up finding out in the most bizarre way possible that the person behind that masterpiece was a talented—and very hot—art student.
The police arrived quickly. I couldn’t help but let out a laugh when I saw him in my rehearsal clothes. The tights hugged his legs perfectly, and the top looked like a thin strip barely covering his torso. I wasn’t laughing because he looked funny, but because of how naturally he wore the outfit, even though the cops—and the curious onlookers who’d gathered—were cracking up. He seemed completely at ease in my clothes. The worst part? He still looked insanely attractive.
It was really late. The buses had stopped running. The officers offered to drive me home. He had to go to the station to file a report, so we both ended up in the back seat of a patrol car, separated from the officers by a steel grate.
This wasn’t how my day was supposed to end.
I needed to practice and improve my technique. Instead, I’d lent my favorite leotard to the hot mural guy. Still, somehow, what had happened made me feel more relaxed.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was focused on the road outside his window. I couldn’t help but study him. For someone in a patrol car, wearing a girl’s clothes after getting mugged, he looked remarkably unbothered. He seemed like the kind of person who’d surf through the worst storms and wouldn’t leave the beach during a tsunami until he finished his coconut drink.
I usually couldn’t stand people like that, but this guy’s vibe and the calm he radiated, despite how grim the situation looked, managed to put me at ease.
“My clothes look good on you,” I teased.
“I know, pink has always been my color, and this leotard makes my butt look amazing.” I laughed. “Thanks.”
“No problem. It’s weird that you got mugged around here.”
“Crime’s everywhere.”
“Maybe they saw you as an easy target. You look pretty muggable.” I joked.
His smile was just as laid-back and pleasant as he was.
“You think I’m an easy target? That’s just because you’re seeing me in your leotard, but I’m actually a pretty bad guy you wouldn’t want to mess with.”
“How bad?”
He leaned closer. My heart raced out of nowhere. It was the strangest, most thrilling, and slightly terrifying feeling of my life because of how overwhelming it was. I’d just met this guy, we’d barely exchanged a few words, and yet I was irresistibly drawn to him and the effortless cool he exuded.
“Sometimes I color outside the lines when I paint,” he whispered. I’d never laughed so much in one day.
I blinked rapidly, overwhelmed by the warmth of his smile. I leaned toward him, catching him off guard.
“That’s nothing. I paint in all kinds of directions.”
The corners of his lips curled into a wolfish grin that completely shattered my composure.
“Now that’s gangster.”
“That’s because I am. Who knows, maybe I’m the one who sent those guys to mug you just so I could see you in that leotard.”
“That’d be a pretty shady way to get what you want, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Because that’s what gangsters do?”
“Nah, because your curves are like sirens that drive sailors crazy and lead them to their doom. It’s my gift and my curse.”
I covered my mouth to muffle my laugh. We were blatantly flirting now. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I kept reminding myself we hadn’t even known each other for a day, but here I was, captivated by his playful smile and the easygoing way he carried himself. I didn’t usually let my guard down, especially with a guy, but this one brought out a side of me I liked—a side I really needed right now.
The sudden thought that we’d eventually arrive and I might never see him again dampened my mood.
I could leave this as a one-time, random encounter. A funny story to tell instead of a potential distraction that could mess with my future.
“You’re not planning to keep my clothes, are you? That’s my lucky leotard. I’ve got a performance tomorrow, and I can’t rehearse without it.”
But I didn’t want that to happen. My mouth acted before my brain could catch up. I was being direct in a subtle way. He’d have to come back tomorrow to return it, and he could see me again.
His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and I convinced myself—to calm my nerves—that he reacted that way because he’d picked up on my hint and liked the idea of seeing me again. If that wasn’t what his sly, soft look meant, then I had no clue about flirting with guys.
“Even though no outfit has ever made my butt look this good, I’ll bring it back first thing tomorrow, with a bonus of chocolate-scented fabric softener. Oh, and dinner at the restaurant across from the theater. As a reward for your kindness, not my charm, just to be clear.”
I didn’t usually go out after performances, not even with my family. I always went home with my parents, had a cup of coffee my mom made, gave thanks for everything, and went to bed. But I didn’t hesitate to nod at his offer.
“You’d better give it back before the performance, or I won’t have any luck, and I’ll hold you responsible for my failure.”
“If I’d known you’d put this much pressure on me, I would’ve thought twice before accepting the sacred leotard. But I doubt you need it. You dance incredibly.”
“You’ve seen me dance?”
“Let’s just say that’s why I got mugged,” he said casually.
That caught me completely off guard. I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
“You’re pretty smooth at this flirting thing. You even use the mugging to your advantage. That’s what I call making good use of your resources.”
“I’ll admit I’m pretty good at it, but I’m serious. When I finish my shifts on the mural, I usually sneak into the theater to watch rehearsals. I don’t know when it started, but I ended up going to see them even on weeks I wasn’t painting the mural.” He laughed. “And you’re the reason for that.”
“Now you’re gonna say you only went to watch me.”
“Not in the creepy way you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t think anything. You’re the one jumping to that conclusion. You must know why,” I shrugged.
He seemed amused by the attitude I’d taken on.
“I’m not denying you’re gorgeous, but that’s not what kept me coming back to sit in the audience. Classical ballet dancers always inspire awe with the grace and precision of their movements, but you—on top of that—make it feel like anyone watching could dance like that. I don’t know if I’m explaining it right, but… the ease you dance with, like the melody moves around you and you’re part of it, makes anyone who sees you believe they could do it too, and it even encourages them to try. Even though I knew I’d never pull off a jeté, I’d find myself attempting them in my room. There’s no greater reward for an artist than to inspire, more than just impress.”
I couldn’t say a word. His words wrapped around me and then shook me, stirring something deep in my chest.
Finally, I smiled, because the feeling that settled in me, tied to the thought that sparked it, gave me the perfect response.
“Alright, you two, stop flirting back there,” the officer’s voice cut in, making us both pull away abruptly. “We’ve arrived at your house, Miss Herrero.”
I hadn’t even noticed we’d gotten there or recognized the familiar streets along the way. I’d been too busy flirting with the blond guy next to me wearing my leotard. I nodded and got out of the patrol car. Before closing the door, I leaned in to look at him one more time.
“You’d better show up tomorrow.”
“You have my word.”
I raised my hand and clenched my fist, as if grabbing something from the air. “I’ve got it.” His shoulders shook slightly with his low chuckle. “And about what you said, I think I know what you mean. I feel the same way every time I see your mural.”
It was my turn to catch him off guard. His expression faltered at how unexpected my words were, but then he smiled at me in a way that made me want to climb back into that patrol car. The idea was completely crazy, and yet it felt like the best thing I’d ever thought of in my life.
I shut the car door and walked toward my house. I needed to get my feet back on the ground. For a moment, I felt like I was in a bubble floating high in the sky, giving me vertigo and adrenaline all at once.
I went inside, reassured my parents, took a long shower, and went to bed. Even after all that, traces of those emotions lingered, bringing a goofy smile to my face again.
I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom, then closed my eyes, wishing tomorrow would come soon.
Inspiring others.
That was definitely what I wanted to do with my life.