“You got your shoes on? Come practice with me.”
For a minute he thought she’d say no, but then she walked across the room to join him. “What do you feel like practicing?” she asked. “Giselle?”
He made a retching sound. “I’m sick of Giselle. I want to dance something fun. Maybe...you know Theme and Variations? Is one of my favorites.”
“I danced it once, but it was a while ago.” She scrunched up her face and looked at him sideways. “It’s kind of hard, isn’t it?”
“Is not too hard. I’ll help you remember the steps. Come on,” he said when she balked. “We do like Baryshnikov and Kirkland. I have the music.” It was a fun piece and he wanted to see her smile. He cued the music and turned it up, and finally she took his hand and let him lead her through a few combinations. She was made for dancing like this, for precise, musical steps. They reached the part where they danced in unison, and they laughed together, trying to beat one another at quickness and elevation.
“If I remembered the steps,” she said, “I could do this a lot better.”
“You’re doing good. Keep going.”
They circled one another, bungling the choreography. She stopped and shook her head. “I can’t. I don’t remember it.”
“I’ll help you. Here, try again. Leg up.” He tapped her thigh and she performed the requisite arabesque. He walked around her, admiring her balance. “Is it hard to do that?” he asked. “Does it ever hurt your toes?”
“Why don’t you try it?” she asked with a touch of pique.
“I like better to watch you do it.” He slid an arm around her waist. The choreography called for it, but he held her much closer than necessary. They ended up face to face. She fell off pointe, dropping her hands.
I want you, Petra. I miss you. He had to clench his teeth so he wouldn’t blurt out the words.
She dug a toe into the floor, glancing at the clock. “That was fun. It’s a cool ballet, but I should probably go.”
“Why go? What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Go home,” she said, drifting away from him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked again. “You always look tired, sad. Something is sad for you?”
“Nothing is sad. It’s just...”
He tilted his head. “You look terrible.”
“Why do you have to say I look terrible? That’s mean.”
“Mean but true.”
She bent forward, rotating her shoulders. “I haven’t been sleeping well. Bad dreams.”
He could understand that. He had bad dreams too. Well, good dreams about Petra, but they were bad dreams because they left him frustrated and desperate to have her. He turned her around and started kneading the tension out of her upper back. “I massage you, yes?” he asked, not really giving her a choice.
She blushed, her cheeks reddening as she stared at him in the mirror. “That feels...oh man...really good.”
I could give your whole body ten times greater pleasure, he thought. Silly, stubborn girl. “What you dream about, Petra?” he asked as she stifled a moan.
“I, uh, I don’t remember. I got a call this morning and it wrecked my sleep.”
“Who called you? Your mom? Don’t she know dancers need rest? Your shoulders feel like a pile of knots.”
She shuddered as he dug his thumbs into her spine. “My mom died a few years ago.”
“Oh, I’m stupid,” he said. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. She got cancer. I miss her. She was a great mom.”
“I miss my mom in Brazil,” he said, massaging down to the base of her back. “She is a great mom too, very loving. Still alive though.” He made a sound and scrubbed his hand over his face as she turned to him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what things to say.”
“No, it’s okay.” Petra was blinking really fast, like she was angry now, or trying not to cry.
“You need a hug?” He swept her up, impulsive, playful, but she clung to him in earnest. He held her closer, lifting her against him. “If you tell me, you’ll feel better,” he said. “I won’t tell nobody. For you, I’ll keep secrets. What’s wrong?”
She was quiet for so long he didn’t think she was going to tell him, but then she turned her face and whispered into his ear. “So much is wrong right now. My stalker’s started calling me, every hour. Calling and texting and emailing and writing…” She shivered, holding him tighter. “It’s too much, Ruby. Way too much. I’m scared.”
Chapter Ten: Scared
Rubio paced Petra’s living room, back and forth, back and forth. He could tell by Liam’s expression that something very bad was going on. He could read the seriousness of her situation in the deep lines of his frown.
His friend looked up at him from Petra’s computer. “Do you mind? The pacing isn’t helping.”
It was hard for Ruby to be still under normal circumstances. It was impossible when he was stressed, but he forced himself over to the couch. Petra sat beside Liam at the table, squeezing her hands together.
“Paulsen sent you eight hundred and fifty-six emails in the past month,” Liam said to Petra. “So, that’s about...” He scratched his pony-tailed hair. “Twenty-eight emails a day on average.”
Petra stared down at her lap. “I stopped tracking them. They were so repetitive. I got annoyed, so I set them up to go straight to the trash.”
“What? Out of sight, out of mind?” snapped Ruby.
Liam held up a hand. “If you don’t stop, I’ll make you leave. She doesn’t need you bitching at he
r on top of everything else.”
Calm, collected Liam. Ruby wanted to punch him in the jaw. No, he didn’t. Liam was too good a friend. He wanted to punch something though, a wall or a punching bag, or the asshole responsible for the stressed look on Petra’s face.
“The police said not to engage, so I was trying not to engage,” she said.
Liam pursed his lips and looked back at the screen. He clicked a few times, his frown deepening.
“I really screwed up, huh?” said Petra in a wavering voice. “I just didn’t— I didn’t want to deal with him. I’d almost forgotten about him until he c-called this morning. I picked up because I didn’t know who it was.” Her phone pinged. Another text, the tenth so far this hour. She looked at Liam. “What do I do now? I don’t know what to do.”
Ruby crossed to take her in his arms. “Is not your fault, okay?”
He could feel her scrunch her eyes shut against his cheek. If she started crying he didn’t know what he’d do. He shushed her and petted her hair until she pulled away from him. Liam was still clicking and frowning at her computer.
“I don’t think you should read these,” said Liam. Her phone pinged again. Liam stopped and squinted at the screen, and sighed. “These emails and texts...this barrage...this is not rational behavior. How did he act when you saw him in New York? Did he seem like a normal person?”
“I guess he seemed normal. Even kind of nice. It only got weird when he started showing up wherever I was, even at my apartment. Almost all my mail came from him, but he never did anything bad enough that the cops could get involved.”
Liam took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This guy’s convinced himself he has some personal connection to you. He’s being protective and possessive when no relationship exists.”
“I don’t understand why he latched on to me,” said Petra. “I don’t get any of this.”
“There’s nothing to understand. He’s delusional. From what he writes, he thinks someone is conspiring to keep you apart.” He flicked a glance at Rubio before he looked back at the screen.