Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“So you decide not to bother, only to find that your trusty neighbor has a friend over and wakes her up anyway?”
“No.” She laughed. “You only seem to keep me awake. Her room is far enough away from our wall. But unfortunately, her room is right outside the kitchen.”
“I did end up moving my bed, just so you know.”
“I haven’t heard anything since, so it must be working.”
The truth was, I’d only had sex in my apartment once since Carys had mentioned being able to hear it. And I’d been extra quiet, to the point that Kendra thought something was wrong. Now that I knew Carys could hear me, it changed things. I couldn’t do anything without wondering whether she was listening. The sick thing was, the idea of her listening turned me on a little.
When the water started to boil, she rushed to take it off the heat. She poured two mugs and mixed the cocoa in before handing one to me.
I looked down at the words on the mug she gave me. “I’ve always wanted to drink out of a mug that says, Classy, Sassy, and a Bit Bad Assy.”
She chuckled. “Sorry. I don’t have a ton of mugs.”
“I love it. And thank you. I haven’t had hot chocolate in forever.”
“I’d offer you whipped cream, but it makes a lot of noise when it shoots out.”
“I think there’s a manwhore-next-door joke in there somewhere,” I cracked.
“I wouldn’t have gone there.” She laughed.
There were a few seconds of awkward silence before she said, “Anyway, we should take these out to the living room, so we don’t wake her.”
“Oh…yeah. Let’s do that.”
We sat down on opposite ends of the couch and quietly sipped our hot chocolates.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking another personal question,” I began.
She licked her lips. “Okay…”
“What happened that caused you to not be able to dance professionally anymore? What type of injury was it?”
She shook her head. “You’re not going to believe it.”
“Why?
“Because it’s pathetic.”
“Well, now you’ve got me even more curious.”
“I fell down a set of stairs and broke my ankle,” she confessed. “Can you imagine that?”
I let out a long breath. “Oh, man.”
“That’s what makes it so hard. It wasn’t like I was injured while dancing, or doing something impressive. It’s sad, really.”
I felt for her so much. “How long until you realized it would impact your career?”
“I didn’t think it would long term—until the company terminated my contract. I always thought they’d give me time to heal, that eventually I’d go back. But apparently they saw my injury as too much of a liability. The doctors seemed to think I’d have recurring trouble with that ankle, even after surgery, so the medical reports only strengthened the company’s case.”
“You must’ve been in shock.”
She took a sip and nodded. “It’s like a death—the death of the future you believed you’d have. I had to reimagine my life. And for a long time there was nothing but a black hole. It wasn’t until Sunny came along that I realized I was meant for a new purpose.”
Damn. Her words shot straight through my soul. This would have been an opportune time to tell her my story. She’d see just how much we had in common. But ultimately, it wasn’t the right time to bring it up. This conversation was about her, not me. Plus, it was late, and I didn’t want to open that can of worms.
We talked for a little while longer, and eventually she checked the time on her phone. “I should try to get some sleep in case she wakes up again.”
“Yeah. Of course.” I stood from the couch.
She reached out to take my mug. “Thank you for everything tonight, Deacon.”
“Thanks for the cocoa. This was nice—talking to you, getting to know you better.”
“Yeah, feel free to come by again when Sunny isn’t wreaking havoc on the building.”
“I definitely will,” I said, standing in the doorway. “Have a good night.”
After I got back to my apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about Carys and imagining what she looked like when she danced. Okay, some of the time I was imagining what she looked like dancing naked. But that would remain my dirty little secret.
Most of all, I couldn’t rid myself of that old, familiar pang in my chest that had developed when she spoke about her injury. I knew all too well what it was like to have dreams broken.
CHAPTER 4
Carys
PROMISE NOT TO LAUGH
The faint noise of traffic from the street below was the only sound in the room as I nervously waited for Cynthia Bordeaux, the director of City Ballet, to begin the interview. Cynthia and I had met years ago when I danced for her competitor.
She finally took a seat across from me and folded her hands.
“So, let’s get right to it, Carys. Why do you think you’d be the best choice for the PR position we have open?”