First Position Page 7

  “I get that about you. Morgan’s a pretty name.”

  Natalie smiled. “It is. Speaking of hearts and stars and everything Cupid related, what about you? Who gets your blood going these days?”

  Ana took a moment, instantly uncomfortable with this new line of questioning. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m trying to get to know my new colleague. That was code for ‘are you seeing anyone?’”

  “No,” Ana said, willing the elevator to arrive a little quicker. “No one. No real time for that kind of thing.”

  “Well, that can’t be true. We have tonight free, for example. You could be on your way to a hot date.”

  “Yeah, but once the season starts, I’m booked most nights, and holidays are all but nonexistent, as we have sold-out shows. People outside of the world of ballet don’t understand that kind of schedule. They want you home on Christmas.”

  Natalie nodded as they approached their respective apartments. “Maybe you should look inside the world, then. Jason’s pretty great, and you guys look hot together.” The notion was a ludicrous one, and Natalie must have seen it on Ana’s face. “Is that a no to Jason then?”

  “A definite no. I adore Jason, but outside of working together, he and I are strictly friends.”

  “So no making out on the side?” Natalie said, teasing her. “Even just a little in the darkened corners of the theater. Darkened-theater kissing can be a total turn-on.”

  “Nope. Never.”

  “Okay. I can accept that. However, I’d like to point out that just because you haven’t considered it, doesn’t mean he hasn’t. I have a feeling that Mr. Jason wants to get hot and heavy with you.” Natalie raised an eyebrow and tossed her a knowing look. “And I’ve picked up on this after only a handful of days, so…”

  The idea was insane.

  Plus, in Ana’s very limited experience with romance, guys had never really worked out for her. A date here or there, but nothing ever took. In fact, the only time her interest had been piqued had been with Roxanne, one of their stage managers. They’d had a little bit of fun together when she was twenty-two, before Roxanne headed out on the road with a touring company. Nothing really since. But Jason? How had she missed this?

  “Really?” she said to Natalie, lowering her voice even though there was no one around. “You think he’s attracted to me?”

  “Um, I know he is.”

  “Do you mind telling me what makes you say that?” It was an honest question, as she wasn’t especially skilled at these kinds of things—as in the kinds of things that involved people. And reading them. And interacting with them. Natalie definitely seemed to be better at it.

  “Well, for one,” Natalie said as she leaned against her apartment door, “he stares at you a lot. That’s a pretty big tip-off. He checks in with you constantly to see if you’re okay, or what your reaction is to a given circumstance. He looks out for you, roots for you. But quite honestly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s a heat there.”

  “A heat?”

  “Yeah, a heat. If we were to take the temperature of those once-overs he’s passing you, his eyes moving up and over your body, it’d be off the charts.”

  As Ana listened to Natalie talk about heat, her gaze settled on Natalie’s mouth, taking in the way her lips moved as she formed words. For whatever reason, Natalie’s mouth, and all things related to it, fascinated her.

  “Huh,” Ana said, shaking herself free of the focus. “Well, I’ll have to pay more attention, then. To Jason, I mean.”

  Natalie pushed off the door and grinned. “And maybe keep an open mind. He’s a nice guy, Ana. You two could have baby ballerinas.”

  “He is nice. But probably no to the future family.”

  “Understood.”

  Ana sighed and turned to her own door, wrestling with the key in the lock once again.

  “Ease up a bit,” Natalie told her. “That’s it. Now turn your wrist ever so slightly to the left.”

  The lock clicked beneath Ana’s fingers and she turned to Natalie. “Thanks. For the door help and the…uh…extracurricular insight.”

  “No problem. See you tomorrow, Frozen.”

  Ana recognized the nickname and spun around. “Freeze. What did you just call me?”

  Natalie faced her and clapped. “Kudos on such an appropriately thematic response. Wouldn’t have predicted it.”

  “Don’t deflect. I can’t believe you just called me that to my face.”

  Natalie thought on this. “I mean, someone’s got to. Don’t you think? Now get some rest so I can dance circles around you tomorrow.”

  Ana opened her mouth to speak, but the audacity of Natalie’s words and the in-your-face challenge left her grappling. Ana wasn’t used to people addressing her so unabashedly, and she found herself stripped of a comeback. “Yeah, tomorrow,” she said lamely, and escaped into her apartment. But as she ruminated on the evening, she realized she had actually enjoyed the talk with Natalie, which was a surprising turn of events. Maybe they’d find a way not to kill each other after all. Maybe they were even on their way to becoming actual friends.

  Crazier things had happened…

  On her own now, Ana flipped on a light, stared at her apartment, and surveyed her options. She considered going over her notes from rehearsal or rolling out her muscles. Somehow her typical evening rituals just didn’t really grab her. Three and half minutes later, she was curled up on the couch rereading Suzanne Farrell’s biography and eating a couple Double Stuf Oreos, for God’s sake. See? She could let loose when she wanted to. Deviate from the plan. Natalie Frederico didn’t know what she was talking about.

  *

  “Oh fuck,” Natalie managed as she stared through one eye at the clock on her bedside table. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tell me I didn’t do this.” She scrambled out of bed and did her best to ignore the god-awful screaming pain that shot through her head as she moved. The sunlight streaming through the window into her bedroom was like some sort of message from Satan that not only had she royally screwed up, but this hangover would spend the day reminding her of that, one painful second at a time.

  She struggled to remember the events of the evening prior as she hopped in and out of the shower, shrugged into her dance clothes, popped some aspirin that would probably do no good, and raced to the train. She’d gone to McKenna’s with Audrey around ten. That part she remembered. Audrey had jumped ship around eleven thirty, because apparently she was fifty times smarter.

  “If I don’t sleep, I’ll crash and burn at work tomorrow,” she flashed on Audrey saying. But damn it, Natalie’d stayed back with a couple of the guys and—oh my God, that’s right—they’d done shots. More than two, which would have knocked her on her ass. She’d been trying to prove she could keep up with them, which was ridiculous of her, because at her height and weight, there was little chance.

  By the time she made it to Lincoln Center she was over half an hour late for Aftermath rehearsals and she’d missed the morning class altogether. As she entered the studio, music played and Ana was already in the midst of a run-through of the third movement. Natalie hurriedly put herself into pointe shoes and warmed up on the side, all the while trying to clear her head and find a way not to throw up then and there.

  “Glad you decided to grace us with your presence,” Roger said snidely once Ana finished up.

  “I apologize. Overslept. Won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t. Same section as Ana, then?”

  “Of course.” As they passed each other on Natalie’s way to the center of the room, Ana sent her a questioning glance, to which Natalie simply shrugged and shook her head.

  As the pianist began to play, Natalie danced, wincing against the bolt of pain that shot through her head and neck with each slight movement she made. She was behind the music, that much she knew, but her stomach churned and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could dance without it turning on her fully. Finally, knowing
she couldn’t go on, she held up a hand. Out of breath and feeling a little dizzy, she leaned over, her hands on her knees. Jason was by her side instantly.

  “Hey, Nat. You okay? You need some water?”

  She grabbed the water bottle he handed her and downed a few swallows. “Everything all right over there?” Roger asked.

  “I’m not well today, I’m afraid.”

  He walked to her, and gave her a frustrated once-over. “Take the day. I’ll work with Ana. Let’s take ten, everyone, and attempt to recover from this train wreck of a rehearsal.”

  The room scattered in different directions and Jason walked her over to the bench where Ana sat. “I’m sorry you’re feeling bad. Is there anything I can do?” Ana asked.

  Natalie dropped her voice. “Just a really dumb and stupid late night. I’ll be all right. Just need a few hours.”

  Ana sat back, nonplussed. “You’re telling me you’re hungover, right now? Hungover?”

  “Can you keep your voice down, please?”

  “Perfect. That’s just…perfect.” Ana dropped her towel onto the bench next to Natalie and walked away without another word.

  Natalie didn’t feel exactly great about what had happened at rehearsal and spent the rest of the day on the couch with a large bottle of water. A little after seven, there was a knock at her door. To say she was surprised to see Ana, Artic princess, standing there was an understatement.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hi.” Ana ran her fingers through her hair. “Do you need any aspirin or anything?”

  “No, I’m good. But thank you.”

  “What about dinner? Have you eaten?” While she still seemed annoyed, the fact that Ana had gone out of her way to stop by and check on Natalie floored her. Apparently Ana did care about other humans, and it was kind of a gratifying revelation.

  “No, I’m good,” Natalie said, gesturing into her apartment. “Gonna hit up some Top Ramen soon, dinner of champions. I told you I’d feel better in a few hours.”

  “Great.” Ana turned to go, but then doubled back. Her eyes now carried conviction, anger even. “What you pulled today wasn’t okay. I just want you to know that.”

  “Listen, I get it. I guess I’m used to later in the day rehearsals, so this early-morning stuff—”

  “Is your job,” Ana finished authoritatively. “And I’m not sure you do get it. As in, at all. But we’re dancing in the same ballet, and what you do affects the rest of your cast. Don’t come to rehearsal hungover ever again.” Ana didn’t wait for a reply. She turned abruptly and headed to her own apartment.

  “Ana.”

  At the use of her name, Ana paused and faced Natalie. From the look on her face, it was clear that this was a topic she had some strong feelings about, and Natalie couldn’t blame her. The ballet mattered to her a lot, and Natalie hadn’t treated it with the same care. To Natalie, what had happened today hadn’t felt like a huge deal, but maybe it should have.

  “I behaved unprofessionally today. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

  Ana ruminated on this for a moment. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I’d much rather you just never do it again. It’s that simple.”

  “Understood. You have my word.”

  When Natalie returned to her apartment, the conversation with Ana hovered and picked at her no matter how many times she tried to shake it. It wasn’t her goal to make a bad impression, but she’d apparently done so anyway, and it bothered her.

  Damn it all.

  *

  “And rehearsals are going well?” Morgan asked.

  Natalie used her shoulder to hold the phone to her ear as she purchased a MetroCard to see her through the week. “Well, we’re a couple weeks in, and it’s going as well as can be expected.”

  A total lie.

  She flashed back to Roger pulling her from that day’s rehearsal in frustration, losing his temper and storming from the room when she and Jason couldn’t manage the lifts that he and Ana did so effortlessly. She was falling short of his expectations in a major way, and the days were beginning to take their toll.

  That wasn’t to say he seemed happy with Ana’s progress, either. She’d been sidelined just as often. If anything, it seemed like he worked with one of them until he couldn’t quite stand it anymore and then swapped them out for sheer variety. It sucked to feel like she was doing a poor job, but she genuinely didn’t know what to do to correct the situation, afraid that her body, which already felt broken and sore beyond anything she’d ever known, couldn’t handle much more.

  Things with Ana had been strained following her hangover happenstance, but as the days went on, Ana seemed to relax a little and offer Natalie a smile here or there, sometimes an actual conversation.

  “I knew you’d be a superstar in New York,” Morgan purred into the phone. Except Natalie wasn’t one. She was anything but. Though she didn’t feel like sharing that information with Morgan, which felt strange, as they’d always talked easily about everything back in LA.

  “What about you?” Natalie asked. “Tell me what’s going on in your life before I lose my signal.”

  “Oh, not much. Waitressing, partying, waitressing, and repeat.”

  “Did you look into that temp agency we talked about? That could lead to something more permanent down the road. You’ve always talked about working in an attorney’s office.”

  “Nah,” Morgan said. “I’m good with where I’m at.”

  “Since when? You hate the diner.”

  “It’s been okay recently. Plus, it gives me free time to have fun, do what I want.”

  “Okay,” Natalie told her. “As long as you’re happy.”

  Morgan had never been terribly ambitious, instead choosing to put most of her focus on Natalie and her career. And while it was great to have Morgan in her corner, now that they were so far apart, she had expected Morgan to put more into her own situation. “So I thought we could talk about Christmas.” But there was no answer. “Morgan? You there?” She glanced at her phone. Damn it. She’d lost her signal as she moved farther into the subway station, and now she clicked off the call with regret. One of those days where it felt like nothing was going her way. A hot bath and some dinner called to her, and she couldn’t get home fast enough.

  What she found when she arrived left her reeling for a whole separate reason. “What the hell?” she asked the empty apartment with two inches of standing water on the floor. She moved quickly around the small space, picking up anything important that rested on the floor and moving it to higher ground and simultaneously dialing the number for the super on her fridge. She so did not need this right now. God.

  “Leak from upstairs,” the super told her casually half an hour later when he finally showed up, chewing gum at the same pace a hummingbird flapped its wings. He stared at the large wet spots on the ceiling as they continued to drip and stream water. “Pipes are old. I’ll need to shut off the water to the unit upstairs, but that’ll take out your water, too. Sorry ’bout that.”

  She stared at him. “So what am I supposed to do? My place is flooded, there’s still water coming in, and now I’m left without running water of my own?”

  He nodded, chewing away. “Uh, yep. Should probably stay with a friend so we can figure it all out. I’ll see if they’ll adjust your rent.”

  “I don’t have anyone to—”

  “I’ll call when we’re up and running again. Might want to grab some towels to put under your door. Isolate the problem.” He gestured to the room at large. “We’ll get some fans in here tomorrow and dry it all up. Should just take a couple days, though. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

  He headed to the door and she followed, hot on his heels. “Wait, wait, wait. That’s it? Sorry for the inconvenience?”

  “Listen, lady. I didn’t sneak in here and cause the leak. I didn’t time travel to 1920 and construct the building. Nor do I foot the bill for new plumbing, like some kind of John Rockefeller. It’s New York. Lotta hist
ory here. Including those pipes. Gum?” he asked, holding out the pack as some sort of consolation prize.

  She blinked at him in measured patience. “No, I’m good.”

  “Suit yourself. I’m Sal, by the way. Salvador. But folks in the building call me Sal. So you could, too.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sal.”

  “Welcome to the building.” And after six to ten more passes at his gum, the door shut and Natalie was left there. Alone. In standing water. With no ability to take that hot bath or cope with life. To top off the sundae of suckage, her muscles screamed in agony from the paces she’d put them through.

  Taking a deep breath, she did what she had to and marched into the hall, prepared to start knocking on the doors of everyone she knew in the building. Starting with right across the hall. Ana answered after a few short moments and eyed Natalie cautiously.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey,” Natalie said back, and ran her hand through her hair, frustrated at the whole situation. “So here’s the thing. My place is flooded. A pipe is leaking upstairs or in the ceiling or somewhere mysterious as ordained by God, and I need a place to crash. I know that you live on your own, so I thought maybe there was a couch I could take up residence on until this whole wet and gross apartment thing is resolved.”

  To Natalie, such a request wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal coming from a friend or a coworker, but the look on Ana’s face told an entirely different story. “You’re asking to stay here?”

  “Yeah, I mean, if it’s all right. I don’t want to put you out. I can ask upstairs.”

  Ana glanced tentatively behind her, and that’s when Natalie noticed her attire. Jeans and a soft-looking white T-shirt. No dance clothes. No shoes. Ana looked like a person. A very pretty person, in fact. Her hair was down, and it fell just past her shoulders in subtle waves, thick and dark. She stood there, barefoot and relaxed, and for a moment, all Natalie could do was stare, take her in, forgetting the trajectory of the conversation altogether. She’d always thought Ana was attractive, but this was different-level attractive.