The Anti-Boyfriend
She was like no other woman I’d ever encountered. Carys was elegant as hell. Long, beautiful neck. Soft, porcelain skin. Hair like silk. Didn’t need a drop of makeup. But it wasn’t only those physical things. Her elegance was more inside than out. It was the way she carried herself. If there was one word to describe her, it was graceful.
It was hard not to notice her beauty on an average day. But tonight she was playing up her sexuality with those damn knee-high black boots and slinky gray dress that hugged her body. I couldn’t stop staring at her, and I really hoped she didn’t sense anything, because that would make things awkward.
Carys was off limits. She didn’t need to mess around with someone who hadn’t been capable of holding down a relationship in nearly a decade.
You got that, Deacon?
“You know why else I’m glad you told me?” she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Why?”
“Because now I know I can’t put up a front around you. I often try to give the impression that I’m okay with what happened to my career, that being a mother to Sunny more than makes up for everything I might have missed out on. But the truth is, I’m trying to make myself believe it more than anything. Someone who’s lost their identity in a similar way knows better than to buy into that so easily.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I definitely know how hard it is.”
I was dying to hug her, hold her hand, move the hair off her face —something. But I couldn’t. My eyes were glued to hers, and I didn’t know how to handle this pull that gnawed at me. I didn’t know what to do with my damn hands because all they wanted to do was reach out and touch her, to be as connected physically as we were emotionally at this moment. But I refrained.
Thank God she interrupted the tension. “I forgot,” she said suddenly. “There’s cake!”
When she stood and started taking the plates to the kitchen, I got up too. “Let me help you.”
She held out her hand. “No. Stay. The less people in the kitchen the better. If Sunny wakes up, she’ll never leave you alone, and then you won’t get to eat your cake.”
As I sat down on the couch, I laughed to myself. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too. That saying was perfect for this situation. Could I continue this friendship with Carys without giving her the wrong impression? I wanted to keep whatever this was going, but given my growing attraction to her, was that realistic? I needed to be careful, maybe take a step back.
Carys returned to the living room carrying two giant mounds of chocolate cake. She handed me mine and sat down. I watched as she took a huge bite of hers and moaned.
“Sorry. I get a little too excited over chocolate.” She laughed, covering her mouth.
Well, I get a little too excited watching you eat it. And yet, I continued to stare at her mouth, anticipating each time she’d open it, enjoying every little sound that came out.
The more I looked over at her, the more I wished I could have seen her dance.
“Do you still dance?”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you mean?”
“I know you don’t dance professionally. But do you ever…dance…when you’re alone…for yourself? Maybe that’s a dumb question. I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s not dumb at all.” She wiped her mouth. “I actually do sometimes. Just to make sure I still have it. It’s not the way it would be if I were up on stage, but yeah, sometimes I’ll randomly put on my toe shoes and do an arabesque in front of the mirror.” She turned a little red. “I can’t believe I’m admitting that.”
“I think it’s awesome. What’s an arabesque?”
She pointed to the framed picture on her bookshelf. “Arabesque is what I’m doing in that photo over there. It’s one of the hardest positions, even though it might look easy. I should say, it’s not easy to do it correctly. The perfect turn out…lifted up and forward, relaxed elbow…the right arm placement. No two people do it exactly the same, because everyone’s body is different.” Shaking her head, she said, “Anyway, I’m going off on a tangent.” She rolled her eyes. “Ballet nerd.”
She’s so damn cute. “Your passion is palpable. Just because you stop doing something every day, doesn’t mean you can’t have that kind of love for it. That’s within you.”
She hesitated. “Would you want to…” Then she shook her head. “Never mind.”
My heart beat faster. What the heck was she going to ask me? I needed to know. “Say what you were going to say.”
Her cheeks grew redder. “Would you want to see a video of me dancing?”
A relief came over me. Jesus. For a split second, I thought she was going to ask me if I wanted something else. Did I really believe she’d ask if I wanted to go back to her bedroom? Christ, Deacon. Get your mind out of the fucking gutter.