Dance With Me, Baby - Fiona Davenport
I’ve never really cared about ballet. That’s not to say I didn’t like it, I simply hadn’t thought about it. As a doctor, I didn’t have a lot of time for new hobbies and interests. But, when your best friend’s incredibly pregnant wife has tickets to see New York City Ballet perform La Bayadère and she starts crying when you politely decline... That’s how I ended up spending my first night off in over a month watching flying tutus and men in tights.
There really were no bad seats in the theatre, but sitting in left center orchestra was how the ballet became the center of my world. Or, more accurately, one specific ballet dancer. She was dancing on my side of the stage, her pink costume hugging her long, lithe body in all of the right places. Under the bright lights, her skin looked lustrous and her brown hair shimmered in its slicked back bun.
I was completely captivated and she became the star of the performance. At one point, her eyes swept over our section and my breath caught in my throat as I viewed gorgeous violet eyes. For a brief moment, our gazes collided and I swore the world stopped turning.
My body came to life for the first time in, I didn’t even know how long. My heart was racing, my skin tingling, and my trousers were uncomfortably tight for the rest of the show, but I barely noticed.
When the last song was played and the dancers had retreated from the stage, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I was hoping for even just the tiniest glimpse of my ballerina.
I was hurtled back into the real world by the sound of Nancy’s voice and her hand on my shoulder. She and Kevin were standing in the row, looking at me curiously.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked. I nodded and stood, hoping the dim lighting hid the heat on my face. We exited into the aisle and Nancy slipped her arm through mine, looking up at me excitedly. “I have a surprise for you!”
Kevin groaned. “Nancy, you didn’t.” He glared at where her hands grasped my arm and quickly pulled her away, tucking her into his side.
She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “What?” He just shook his head, and she shrugged before turning back to me. “My friend Lisa just joined NYCB and tonight was her first performance with them.”
I narrowed my eyes at Nancy but tried to keep the dark scowl off of my face. I reserved it for Kevin instead.
He put up his arms up in surrender. “Dude, I had nothing to do with this.”
Nancy huffed, ignoring him and chattering on about her friend. I pretended to listen while my mind wandered back to my ballerina.
“She invited us to get together with some of the cast—”
That got my attention. “Wait, what?”
“We’re”—she jerked her thumb at Kevin—“going to a cast party if you want to come. I really think you’d like Lisa. Please?”
Even if I could have resisted her begging, watery eyes, it wasn’t necessary. What if my girl was there? This was my chance to find her. “Sure, why not?” Nancy squealed excitedly, and I decided not to burst her little bubble by telling her I had no intention of getting to know her friend.
Somebody had booked a large industrial loft in Soho and there had to be at least two hundred people milling around. At six foot four, I stood at least a head taller than most of the room’s occupants and I continually swept the crowd in search of a pair of stunning violet eyes.
Nancy had the opposite problem and couldn’t see much from her perch at barely over five feet. “Stay right here,” she told me, patting my arm. “I’ll go find my friend.” Kevin grabbed her hand before she could get lost in the throngs of people.
“This is your chance, Dec. Make a run for it,” he murmured loud enough from my ears only. I took his advice and started wading through the crowd in the opposite direction. An hour later, I was incredibly frustrated and starting to lose hope. I paused by a large, floor-to-ceiling window and scanned the crowd again.
I shifted and something dug into my back prompting me to look down at the source of my discomfort. It wasn’t a window; it was a door. Pushing down the handle, I stepped out into the night, the crisp fall air blowing across a rooftop terrace. I let the door swing