Ripped (10 page)

I opened my mouth to object. Surely there were reasons why we shouldn’t do it, like we hadn’t seen each other for eight years and needed to become reacquainted before jumping into a shared living arrangement.

I lifted my gaze. The hopeful grin on Bax’s face softened my response. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

His eyes danced. “Well, a maybe is better than a flat-out no.” He nodded determinedly. “I can wait, Jaz. I’ve waited this long; at least you’re here and you’re not running in the opposite direction.”

“I can’t …” My head shook as I tried to gather my thoughts. “I can’t give you a timeframe. It’s been so many years and I want to be sure.” I smiled at the grin still spread across Bax’s gorgeous face. “And if it does happen-”

“When it happens,” he interjected.

Laughing, I conceded. “
When
it happens we can’t get anything too expensive. I don’t earn very much and you never seem to work, so we may end up living under a bridge.”

“Hey, I work. And I make okay money.”

“Oh yeah? And when does this work take place? Because so far you’ve been watching me dance every day since we bumped into each other.”

Bax laughed softly as he sat up, lifting me in the process. “As a matter of fact, I have to work tomorrow night downstairs in the restaurant, help clean up.” He swung his feet to the ground and stood, then held my hand as I joined him. “But tonight, I’m walking you home.”

As we walked the nine blocks to the Baileys’ house that may not be my home for much longer, my mind raced. It may have been six years since I was supposed to join Bax in New York, but it was finally all coming together. He had truly forgiven me for not coming when we had planned and all the conclusions that we had both jumped to had been put to rest. There were no miscommunications, no secrets between us. After all this time, he still wanted to be with me. He still looked at me like I was the only girl in the world. He still loved me.

T
HE BREEZE
bit at my ears as I made my way along the familiar nine blocks to see Jaz. There was no rehearsal today; after eight straight days of auditions and then rehearsals, the dancers had a day off, and I intended to make the most of it. I’d thought a lot about what Jaz had said when we had spoken about moving in together. While I was ready to jump straight back in I had to respect that she wasn’t. We needed to take it slow, get to know each other again, and what better way to do that then to go on a date and show Jaz my beloved New York City at the same time?

Skipping up the front steps and rapping out a tune on the hardwood door, I blew into my numb hands as I waited for the door to be answered. I wished I’d worn gloves, as my hot breath revived my fingertips; it was going to be cold where I planned on taking Jaz today.

Jaz stepped out onto the porch in her puffy jacket and jeans. “Ready.” She chirped.

“You’ll need gloves, a scarf, and maybe even a beanie,” I told her.

Her eyes widened. “Where are we going?” She looked at my attire. “You don’t have gloves or a scarf.”

“No, and I wish I did.” I tucked my hands under my arms to warm them.

“Wait there.” Jaz darted back inside, leaving the door ajar. I stuck my head through the gap to take in the décor of a foyer that looked like it hadn’t seen a paintbrush for at least fifty years. Who were these people that Jaz was living with? Sure they must be decent enough to take her in, but this place was so rundown on the inside it could easily be mistaken for an abandoned building.

Jaz bounded back down the rickety stairs. “Here.” She thrust a pair of brown woolen gloves in my hand and a long red scarf. “This is the best I could do on short notice, but they’re better than nothing.” I quickly wrapped the warm red scarf around my neck as Jaz pulled a pale blue beanie onto her head that matched her gloves and scarf.

We walked the ten minutes to Grand Street station, our pace increasing with every step. “So where are we going?” Jaz beamed up at me, and I had to bite my tongue to stop from blurting out the answer. I knew she would love what I had planned for her today.

Back in Boston, this time of year was her favorite for two reasons. There was nothing more beautiful than the tree-lined streets as the brown, yellow, and red leaves fell from their limbs. And if there was one thing that Jaz was good at, almost as good as dancing, it was ice skating.

As we neared our stop I couldn’t contain my own excitement any longer. Jaz had guessed what we were doing—at least for the first part of the date—so was up and waiting by the doors as our ride came to a stop at Rockefeller Centre Station.

“Ice skating,” she squealed before throwing her arms around my neck. “I can’t believe you remembered I love this so much.”

Of course I’d remembered. I was like a freaking elephant who never forgot a thing, which provided me with some unbelievable memories of our time together, but which had also plagued me with heartbreaking hours of reminiscing over what I’d lost. But that was then. As Jaz grabbed my gloved hand and dragged me to the ice rink, I told myself to let it all go. This was my reality now, not the wishing and hoping, or the cursing what a dumbass I’d been for leaving when I did instead of waiting the two years for Jaz to graduate. This was real. That heart-shaped face that was flushed with excitement and exertion from trying to drag me as I resisted just a little. The undeniable joy in her beaming smile when she finally spied the ice and the enormous gold statue that stood sentry over the rink. The hotness of her breath as she once again threw her arms around my neck and pulled me down to her height so she could warm my lips with her own. This was it, and I was determined to let go of the hurt and anger of the past six years and live for now, for Jaz, for however long that may be.

“This is perfect!” She glanced around, her eyes taking everything in until she found the skate rental sign. “Over there.” She pointed one pale blue gloved finger. “Let’s go.”

I had to admit—I’d never been that great at figure-skating. Before I’d met Jaz all those years ago, I’d skated mainly with mates on frozen lakes that had turned into makeshift ice hockey rinks. It had been rough-and-tumble, knock-’em-down kinda stuff, not the graceful gliding that Jaz was in to. But when I’d met Jaz and wanted to spend time with her, I’d arranged for a group of us to go to an ice rink, and tried my luck at the more refined style of skating. Jaz had laughed as I’d found my balance on the thinner blades, but I had been determined to improve and had quickly been gliding right alongside her. Fast forward eight years, and ice skating had become one of those things that conjured up too many gut-churning memories, so I hadn’t even contemplated pulling on skates until now.

My feet had a mind of their own as I tentatively stepped onto the smooth surface and propelled my arms to keep balance. Jaz glided around me in circles as I fought for my body to stay upright.

“Would you like some help, old man?” she asked with a grin, reaching my side and taking me by the waist.

I didn’t need help, but any opportunity to get close to Jaz, I’d take. “Sure, let’s do the corny couples skate.”

With tentative strides, we took off. By the second lap of the rink I was fine; I could have sped off on my own, but I enjoyed having Jaz close, her little peach-shaped ass pushing into my hip.

There were couples everywhere, and some were beginning to show off a little, pretending they were Olympic skaters like Torvill and Dean. I glanced at Jaz who had also spied one particular couple who were attempting, without much grace, to do a lift.

“We can do better than that,” she whispered out the side of her mouth. “You can lift me and fling me around with one hand.” She rubbed a hand up and down my bicep. “Especially with these arms.”

I knew what she had in mind. Back in Boston we had actually managed to do a few overhead lifts on the ice without me falling on my ass and dropping Jaz.

“Okay.” I chuckled nervously. “I’m game if you are.”

Jaz skated ahead then circled back. It was the closest thing you could do on ice to getting a good run-up. When she reached me, I braced myself, took her by the waist, and lifted. She went straight up with ease; she was such a feather-weight. I continued skating as Jaz positioned herself in arabesque, arms in fifth.

Getting her up there was the easy part. Getting her down was going to be tricky. With a lot of muscle power, I just managed to set her back down on her skates. If she hadn’t been such an accomplished skater she probably would have landed on her ass.

The show-off couple skated over.

“Wow that was amazing,” the guy exclaimed. “Are you professionals?”

The laugh erupted from my belly before I could contain it. “No, bro, we’re ballet dancers.”

He looked me up and down knowingly.