The Ballerina & The Fighter (Book 1) by Ursula Sinclair

eyebrow.
“Yeah. You were there?”
    “Yep.” Maze glanced at me
again. “I wanted to see Ivy dance.”
    “Hey, babe.” Christy walked
out of Dante’s room wearing one of his t-shirts, her nipples tented the shirt.
She stopped when she saw Maze. Her eyes traveled from his head to his boot clad
feet then slowly back up again.
    Oh hell no! I stepped in to
her line of vision blocking Maze from her view. Christy could be such a skank.
“That’s Christy, she’s one of the core dancers in the company. Christy, Maze,
and we’ve got to go.” I grabbed Maze’s hand and practically dragged him outta
the place. I began to shut the door when I heard Dante call out, “Don’t forget
we have a rehearsal this afternoon.”
    “No we don’t,” I called back
and slammed the door.
    Maze and I walked side by
side to the elevator and got on. It didn’t evade my notice that he didn’t hold
my hand like he did last night. I lived on the forty-fifth floor so the
elevator ride took a minute, and the first few seconds were filled with silence
and me staring at the numbers as they counted down then stopped on the
thirtieth floor. The elevator door opened but no one got on. “Crap. At least it
will go straight from here and only stop in the lobby,” I offered.
    “So, Dante’s not gay.”
    I turned to look at him. “Ah
no. He’s bi.”
    “Oh.”
    “He says he’s an equal
opportunity dater.”
    “So he likes females.” He
folded his arms over his chest.
    I glanced over at him. His
gaze remained lifted as though he watched the numbers count down on the floors
like I had been. “Yep.”
    “Did you two ever date?”
    “No.” The elevator opened
just then and we stepped out. He walked beside me and took my hand. When we got
out to the sidewalk he raised his free hand and stopped a cab. He released my
hand to open the door for me and I got in and he got in behind me. Taking my
hand again he gave the cab an address in the lower east side of Manhattan. I
recognized the name of the place. I’d never been there but heard good things
about it.
    “Are you seeing anyone?” I
asked. Stupid, stupid. Why did I even
ask? I didn’t want to know. But damn it he was holding my hand. He came to
watch me dance.
    Maze turned to look at me and
smiled. “You. I’m seeing you.”
    “Oh.” Well damn, I grinned.
What was I supposed to say to that?
    “I hope you’re hungry.”
    I squeezed his hand. “Yeah, I
try to eat breakfast most days because when I’m rehearsing it’s usually the
only real meal I get.
    Breakfast was everything I
thought it would be, the food beat oatmeal and fruit any day. And Maze put the
carbs away, not sure where it went cause when he took his jacket off, his dark
grey Henley shirt plastered to his body outlining his physique. Which seemed
just as fine as when I’d last seen him. Cause from what I could see there was
not an ounce of fat on that body. As good as the food was the company was even
better. Everything I’d felt for Maze that summer came back tenfold. We talked,
but most of the time we just sat there and stared at each other or he’d caress
the back of my hand with his thumb. Finally, neither of us could eat another
bite and he paid the check. We left the restaurant and like last night, just
walked aimlessly on the sidewalk. And yeah he held my hand.
    “So you really don’t have a
rehearsal later?”
    “No. Dante was just trying to
give me an out if I needed it.”
    He turned his head to look at
me. “And do you need an out?”
    I smiled. “What do you
think?”
    “Then spend the day with me.”
    “All right.”
    He stopped and then looked up
and down the street before walking toward the curb, stopping a cab. We climbed
in and he gave the cab the address for the Staten Island Ferry. I smiled. He
sat back, his shoulder leaning against mine then took my hand again and placed
it on his thigh. My gaze was drawn to his hand over mine his fingers threaded
through mine. I felt like I was resting