His love came in the form of praise the more involved in his world I became.
This…talking about a woman, is something that would have never happened before.
His illness has changed parts of him, giving us some sliver of a normal father and son relationship.
Pulling up a chair, I tell him all about the ballerina who’s weaved herself inside me.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Alyssa
Once again, I find myself at Simon’s apartment, humiliation and exhaustion making me emotional. When he answers his door, his eyes widen, “Alyssa?”
“Sorry to dump my drama on you again, Simon.” I lift both my shoulders, sighing. “I have nowhere else.”
“Come inside,” he tells me, placing a hand on my back and looking around the street, no doubt to see how I got here. “You look…” his words halt as he jogs over to an open laptop and closes it.
Had he been watching porn?
Awkward.
“A mess,” I finish for him, tightening the shawl around my destroyed dress. “I don’t suppose I could borrow a shirt and some sweats to?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs uncomfortably. “I do, but they will drown you.”
“Can’t be worse than this,” I cringe, gesturing down my body.
“What happened to you?’ Worry tugs his lips down.
“Can I tell you over coffee?” I ask, and get rewarded with a smile.
“Sure, make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you some clothes.”
I plonk down on his couch, looking around the room.
It’s barren in here. No home comforts or pictures. If I didn’t know it was Simon’s apartment, you’d never know someone lived here.
He returns a couple a minutes later holding up a white shirt and gray lounge shorts. “The best I can do, I’m afraid.”
“It’s great. Thank you.” I take his offering and head to his bathroom to change.
Slipping the dress down my body, I collect it up and stuff it in the small bin, never wanting to see the thing again.
I don’t chance looking in the mirror. Instead, I turn on the shower and blast cold water over my fevered flesh. Goosebumps dust my skin, the memory of Luca manifesting, caressing.
Damn him.
He played me tonight, getting me to show him I’d be a good match for his appetites, then flung me aside like a trash bag.
Turning off the shower, I grab a towel from a folded pile and pat my sore skin, my ass cheeks on fire. I hope the marks scar but know they won’t.
“Coffee’s ready,” Simon calls out.
Wrapping the towel around my head to keep my wet hair from dampening the shirt, I slip on Simon’s clothes, tightening the shorts as much as I can, then folding down at the waistband.
He’s sitting with a mug of his own when I come back into the room. “I showered. I hope that’s okay.”
Looking up at me from his position on the couch, he smiles. “Of course. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
A sigh pushes past my lips. “I lost my place at Swan. It’s a long story, but my beneficiary pulled my funding.”
His mouth opens, but words fail him. “I know, right? It’s been a really crappy couple of days.” I laugh. Otherwise, I may cry and go on a killing spree—starting at Swan.
“I’m sorry this shit has been happening to you. What will you do now?” His fingers drum on his mug.
Sighing, I sip my coffee, curling my legs underneath me on the armchair. “I guess I’ll have to go back home to the farm, save up some money, try to get into a production company.”
“Is dancing something you’ve always wanted to do?”
His question really hits me, like a force sucking the oxygen out of the room.
I’m a great dancer, worked my ass off to be great, but it was Mom’s dream, Mom’s passion, Mom’s ambition.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asks, studying me.
“No,” I shake my head, the towel coming loose and falling to the arm of the chair. “It’s just…I don’t actually know. It was something thrust upon me. I never had a choice. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t a dancer. It’s consumed my life.”
“Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. You could figure it out, find what you love and want to do.”
Luca Leto.
I shiver at the thought.
“Are you cold?” Simon asks, interpreting my reaction incorrectly. “I’ll get you some sleeping stuff. You can crash here tonight and figure things out once you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
I reach for his hand as he passes, squeezing it. “Thanks, Si. You’ve been too good to me.”
“There’s no such thing as too good, Alyssa. I just think you’re used to being treated unfairly.” He pulls free, and his bare feet pad across the hard floors until they fade.
I’ll need to book a train ticket, suck it up, go home, maybe try to talk dad into selling the farm and salvaging a little money from it.