15. Chapter 15

Chapter fifteen

Kelsey

Caleb was a morning person. The kind of no coffee, yet running like an Olympian morning person.

I was not. I was lagging behind him, clutching the stitch in my side, and complaining.

"See? I told you, running builds stamina. Well, we're jogging, but you get the picture."

"I don't need stamina. I'm a dancer. I need to be able to go hard for ten minutes at a time, tops."

"I did some googling—"

"You and the freaking googling," I wheezed. I stopped and leaned my butt against a tree, bending over to hold my knees. This was embarrassing. I couldn't jog more than two blocks without dying on the side of the road.

"Yes, me and my freaking googling , read that dancers benefit from sustained cardio training because you guys are more like sprinters."

"Miss Juliette doesn't run."

"Miss Juliette already had her career. You, have not."

I shot him a disdainful glare.

"Have you thought about the pamphlet I gave you? Audition fee is due tomorrow."

I knew. I was hyper aware that the summer session deadline was Monday. What I didn't know was whether Caleb wanted me to go so that he could have the summer back to himself, or if he wanted me to go for myself. He wiped his brow and checked his watch. "Why? You want me to go? "

"I want you to do what you think is best. Juliette thinks that this is what's best for your dance career, but if you don't want that, then I'm cool with you sitting on the couch eating bon bons all summer. The couch and I are good friends, you know."

That smile. The attempt at humor. My laughter was right there on my vocal cords but was grabbed by an unholy force and sucked it back into my lungs. I decided to be outright with it, "Do you want me out of the house so you can go back to Cali with your girlfriend?"

He stopped and turned sharply, his mouth agape, like he was loading. "Actually, I broke-up with Vikki," he said, plain as if he'd forgotten to tell me.

"Why?"

Caleb paused for a long time, like he was choosing his words too carefully. "We weren't right for each other. Come on, we have to make it all the way back."

He broke out into a jog. "I can't," I whined, trotting to his side. "I hate this."

We jogged another two blocks before the stitch in my side got to be too much and I stopped again. The searing pain was alarming. I thought I was in great health, but this was kicking my ass. I thought I'd run with him for a week and prove I could do it just fine and have a way out of this ridiculous promise. Now, knowing I had a weakness, I'd work until I perfected this skill as well.

"I can't run another step. Go on without me."

"We can walk the rest of the way." Caleb said, turning to walk backwards.

"You don't have to. Just go."

"I want to talk about your future."

I stopped dead in my tracks and put my hands on my hips. "You don't get a say in my future."

"You're very quick to think the worst of me. I simply want to know what you want. I'll support you no matter what you choose." His head cocked to the side. He added, "As long as it's not a life of crime. "

I might as well take him for all he was worth, right? I'd gone over it a million times in my head for the past few days. Caleb said he would pay for it. Mom chose to find him so that I could be financially taken care of. There was no reason why I should feel any guilt over taking his money. He had fifteen years to make up for, anyway. Right? Plus, if I wanted this, I needed him because as a minor I had no way of giving myself the future I wanted.

"I want to be a ballerina. I want to go to the summer intensive."

Caleb nodded. "Okay. Good. You don't feel pressured by anyone in this decision?"

"No. I always wanted to dance. Since I was little."

"Well, then let's fill out the paperwork when we get back to Juliette's." Caleb turned and gestured for me to catch up to him.

"That's it?" I jogged the five paces it took to get to his side. I needed to see his face when he talked to me.

"What's it?"

"You don't care how much it costs or that I won't go to college?"

Caleb took a deep breath and sighed. "College is overrated. I failed out my first year."

"You what?"

"Well, I went to college because my mom, your grandmother, always wanted one of her kids to be a doctor." Caleb gestured to the horizon, "I was going to fulfill her dreams. Guess what?" he shot me a pointed look, "I hated it. I wasn't cut out for it. Changed my major and here I am now. In terms of cost, I already looked at the tuition and I think it's reasonable. It'll be a good experience. You'll be able to see if it's truly what you want once and for all. That's worth it to me."

My sweater felt like it was strangling me. "I can go to college after my career is over, too."

"If that's what makes you happy. What's your backup plan?"

"I don't know."

He shrugged. "Eh, you don't have to know. You'll figure it out when you get there. "

"Miss Juliette encourages us all to have a backup plan. It's hard to make it in the dance world."

"Miss Juliette would benefit from learning how to relax sometimes," Caleb mumbled.

"She's a little high-strung," I conceded.

"Aren't you glad you came running with me? See? We can get along."

"No. I'm dying, and you bribed me into talking to you by letting me go to the summer intensive."

"Obviously, I'm not above bribery." His eyes narrowed. "Also, to clarify what I said before, it depends on the crime, now that I think about it."

This whole time we're having life altering conversation, he was thinking through hypothetical situations? I burst into laughter.

"Some crimes are worth committing. When I said crime, I meant pre-meditated, morally bad stuff that you could have simply not participated in. So, don't rob a jewelry store, and we're good."

What a strange man.

We walked the rest of the way debating what constitutes crime and whether murder was acceptable if the person deserved it. It wasn't unpleasant. When we started jogging again, I swore I almost saw heaven's gates.

Juliette

Caleb let himself in, much like he had the night before. "It smells divine. French toast or cinnamon rolls?"

"French toast," I called over my shoulder.

Kelsey stumbled through the door after him, wheezing and clutching her side. She dragged her feet to the couch and flopped down. "That was awful! I hate you. Both of you. "

"Ah, come on. It wasn't so bad." Caleb chuckled, plucking a slice of French toast from the stack and taking a huge bite. "She did pretty well for her first time."

"Wait till we're all sitting to eat. And don't talk with your mouth full it's—"

My smartass student across the room finished my sentence for me, raising a finger in the air. "It's unbecoming!"

Caleb shrugged and leaned against the counter next to me while I finished basting the last slices with browned butter. His smile radiated off every inch of his skin, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Kelsey was still complaining aloud on the couch while he and I exchanged a hopeful glance and he whispered, "It was good, I think."

I couldn't help but be cautious. Caleb had shown me nothing but optimism, so I couldn't exactly trust his judgement just yet. One look over my shoulder to Kelsey and I was no more certain they'd bonded than a minute ago when I was alone and wondering. I'd have to pry during breakfast.

When I looked back at Caleb, I was taken by surprise with the way our gaze lingered. He was standing really, awfully, close again. So close I could see the heartbeat in the hollow between his collar bones. The attraction I felt last night reignited, pooling deep in my belly as I catalogued the details of his face again.

I averted my gaze and caught sight of his hand gripping the counter instead, the tendons and chorded muscles of his forearm moving as he drummed his thumb on the cool granite.

My curious fascination with the beauty of a person's hands announced itself loudly to the forefront of my mind. How many women had those fingers known?

I flinched, burning my fingertip on the cast iron skillet. "Ah," I gasped, and began sucking on my finger. Caleb gasped with me, stopping mid-ramble, his head snapping to see what happened.

His attention descended to where I sucked on my burn. With his eyes on my lips and my mind devouring the sight of him in his running shorts, the air between us went unbearably still .

Our eyes met again.

It was his fault. Caleb was the one with no personal space. Now, I was caught looking and was mortified.

Caleb had already admitted, in that chatty way of his, that he'd looked at me. It didn't take a degree in chemistry to deduce from there that he liked what he saw. But I… I never looked. I never, no, not even to myself, let alone Caleb, I would never admit that I was looking at him.

But we were both looking. Again. My stomach lurched at the prospect that this time, he might have noticed without a shadow of doubt.

Caleb licked his bottom lip subconsciously. "You alright?" he asked.

I nodded, heart a spiky ball in my throat.

He whispered, leaning in slightly. My stomach clenched in terror. "We had a good talk."

Pure, unadulterated relief. I thanked every star in the universe that Caleb was oblivious.

"That's good." I forced a smile. Bothered by the indecent way my body had snatched control of my good sense, I continued to avoid eye contact. I couldn't believe I'd gone there. Caleb was really, a very attractive man.

Objectively speaking.

And absolutely not in relation to any kind of feelings I had for him.

Because I had absolutely no feelings for him.

Caleb was Kelsey's father, who I agreed to befriend and help for her sake. Caleb was a client. A paying client. Who paid me to teach his daughter, who I loved beyond measure, to dance.

This is ridiculous. I screamed internally . I need a cup of coffee. And I need Caleb to back up.

I plated the last of the French toast and rushed to the dining table.

"You'll be addicted by next Sunday," Caleb beamed, setting two slices on Kelsey's plate. I'd been so busy inside my head I couldn't recall when he'd turned his attention to Kelsey.

"It was torture, and it was embarrassing." She plopped down dramatically.

"Embarrassing?" I gave her a quizzical look .

"Sonic over here didn't even have the decency to pretend to be out of breath."

"First of all, we were at a jogging pace." Caleb, the barbarian, spoke with his mouth full and pointed his fork at her across the table. "A good starting pace, but hardly my max."

"My lungs were on fire." Kelsey whined, also talking with her mouth full.

That detail dripped warmly into my chest. Something indescribable seized my heart and squeezed intensely, wringing out an emotion that had been trapped there for years. Longing splashed against my ribcage as I watched them bicker, this time a whisper of fondness underlying Kelsey's complaining.

Caleb had said something to her on that run, I was sure of it. Kelsey's back wasn't ramrod straight, her arms weren't crossed, and she was talking. Aloud. I was a spectator on the side, eating quietly while their voices spilled onto the table. That… that thing around my heart released its hold so that the wretched organ could reabsorb the feelings that had been rung from it.

Caleb continued. "Running is the only cardio I can stand, so, I have a lot of practice. You'll get there."

"Forty years of practice. He tried to take me all the way to the high school loop and back, Miss Juliette!"

"I'm not forty… yet," Caleb chuckled.

I tried to button up my hollow amusement. "Well, you are alive. I'm on Caleb's side. It's good for you."

"I'm barely alive! How dare you take his side?" Kelsey accused me with her fork.

"Oh, not so fun, eh?" I teased, referencing the alliance they'd made against my tamale. "I take it you two bonded a little?"

"Trauma bonded," Kelsey grumbled.

"You are not traumatized," Caleb snorted, making eye contact with me through his thick black lashes. My breath caught. "Do you want to go before or after school tomorrow?" he added .

As they discussed the pros and cons of every possible running time, I was suddenly too aware of my own breathing. Caleb kept stealing glances my way, the corner of his lips hitching up as he suppressed his smile. Their back and forth faded to my periphery as I catalogued the straightness of his brow, the slope of his neck and shoulder. The cinnamon in the toast tasted sweeter, stronger, the more I devoured the details of him.

I didn't have time to fret over what it meant, what I was thinking, why I was thinking… He caught me staring and, still unable to control this morbid curiosity, this fascination with the animated extrovert across from me, I held his gaze. Acutely aware of the rise and fall of my chest in my v neck tee shirt, my bra suddenly constricting. Of the way my coffee tasted and burned a trail of fire down my neck. Aware of every sensation.

His eyes followed that swallow. Again, flicking up to make eye contact that felt—

Predatory.

Only, I wasn't sure if I was the predator or if I was his prey.

I had been looking before, at the counter. But now, I was staring.

I didn't—couldn't—admit it to myself. Shouldn't have even registered the terrible truth. I was in no place to admit that Fuck. He is really, truly, good looking.

I tore my gaze back into my plate to find I had eaten every last bite while watching him. Had it been that long? I looked to Kelsey who downed a glass of orange juice and hesitated, hand hovering awkwardly over her plate before reaching for her fork.

"Do you want some more?" Caleb asked, uncapping the half-gallon. He poured before Kelsey replied, continuing the conversation. "I was the opposite of good in English. Math and science were always easier for me."

"Thanks," Kelsey whispered. "I'm not good at math. I get good grades, but I have to try really hard. I'm better with words than numbers."

"I always felt like English was like talking yourself out of a paper bag. The book could mean anything if you talked enough."

"I have an essay that sounds just like that due tomorrow. "

"We have rehearsal in the afternoon. You might want to do it before we go?" I suggested.

"I'll do it after."

I raised a knowing brow.

Kelsey sighed with a quiet, "Yes, Miss Juliette," as she padded up the stairs.

Caleb and I stood to clear the table. "What was that about?" he asked.

"What?" I asked, surrendering the plate of leftover toast to him.

"You, staring me down at breakfast," he said, careful to keep his voice low enough that it only traveled the distance between us.

We joined each other at the sink, my skin igniting with embarrassment. "I wasn't staring. It was nice to see you and Kelsey get along." We barely fit at my double sink, our shoulders and arms touching as we got to work.

Caleb bumped my hip sideways playfully. "Well, don't look at me like that. It makes me nervous. I get performance anxiety. You know how I ramble when I'm nervous."

"I'm sorry." I bit back my smile.

This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. What the fuck had gotten into me? As if my legs had a mind of their own, even as I scolded myself, I spread them slightly so that when I leaned into my hip Caleb and I were bodies aligned in this little game of cat and mouse, poking each other with our elbows by accident… supposedly by accident.

Subconsciously, but deliberately drawing myself nearer to him.

"I know you just can't handle my good looks and impeccable charm, but please avert your eyes." Caleb batted his eyelashes at me, mockingly.

I handed him a plate. "Oh please," I rolled my eyes dramatically, "I– you are not—"

Goddammit I couldn't find anything to say.

Which was all well because Caleb was talkative enough for the both of us. He tsked, "Admit it," he leaned in until his nose was just inches from mine, "I'm growing on you."

My scoff turned to laughter and I had nothing witty to say, but I wouldn't back down to his closeness and his eye contact, and the way he smelled like soap and antiperspirant and forbidden fruit. Or the way my stupid, vapid little pulse raced with excitement.

"I know I'm lightyears beneath you in the looks department, but in personality, I'm a ten." Caleb laughed to himself, turning away to put the plate into the cabinet. Giving me a second to fucking think.

"Debatable," I teased.

"No, you're a solid ten. I'm sure FedEx Man agrees." A lightbulb visibly went off. "You should text him and ask to weigh in."

"No. I will not text him. I know I'm a ten. I meant that your personality is debatably a ten."

"Good thing it's not up for debate and has been proven by an entire morning of Kelsey warming up to me."

"She called being with you a trauma bond."

"That was a joke. Additionally, a bond is a bond, am I right?"

We laughed together, loud enough that we were shushing one another, and I scolded, "It's not funny."

"Laugh or cry. Dealer's choice." Caleb turned to put away the silverware and I checked out his ass in those running shorts. "I choose the path of least tear-induced-wrinkles." He must still be on a runner's high, it was infectious. I wanted to ask him to stay and chat a while.

Stop, Juliette, stop.

"Thanks for breakfast," he beamed.

"Thanks for cleaning up."

I finished drying my hands with the dishcloth and tossed it on the counter. When I turned around, Caleb was pointing at me and looking me up and down.

"I'm gonna buy you an apron." He pointed to the powdered sugar stains on my leggings and the little wet spot on my shirt from washing the dishes. He was leaning back against the counter again, hands braced on each side of his hips, ankles crossed, and altogether too comfortable in the space he inhabited.

"I have one," I said, rubbing at the stains. "It's in the wash, I think."

"I'll buy you a backup. "

There was a warm, vibrant, energy about Caleb. A sort of unfounded optimism I saw in the glint in his eye and the softness of his smile.

I'd seen that before and scorned him for it. I thought, I could do a better job , and pragmatism was the way. The only way. That the solution to this situation was certainly the path of least resistance. Kelsey should be with me, a motherly figure from the time she was very little, and Caleb should be the extension—the wallet. I cowered away from the path that Caleb chose without hesitation. I couldn't imagine how hard it had been for him to strike up conversation with her on a run she didn't want to be on, with the man she least wanted to confront.

Yet, there we were in my kitchen, leaned against the counters. I was listening to all of the details of their squabble over the summer intensive. Seeing it through his eyes. Marking down the self-deprecating laughter and hopeful tone of his deep voice.

I used to be like him. I used to believe that everything would work out in the end, despite any thorns that pricked me in my pursuit of picking a bouquet of roses.

I had lost that piece of me along the way of my marriage. In every failed pregnancy test, every single pink line I saw as I held my breath waiting for that second one to show. At first, with bated breath and a full heart, not unlike the way Caleb acted towards Kelsey. Then with a little less hope each time. The other night, in his desperate plea for help in my studio, I'd seen that hope faltering. I'd seen myself after the gynecologist had referred me to the fertility specialist. I knew how vulnerable it felt to confront the fact that one was lost.

Caleb was still rambling, totally unaware of the deep dive my mind had been on. As I resurfaced, I found his excitement was contagious. He made me want Kelsey to trust him.

I trusted him.

God, that fucking smile.

"You'll have to remind me what the audition fee was. I think I'll just have another card made up for you to buy whatever you need." Caleb grinned, then jumped a little. "Not like that. You know, not like you're a kept woman or anything. I meant, you know, for you and Kelsey because I'm always paying you… with money." Caleb's cheeks burned, "For whatever you need to spend for Kelsey."

"A kept woman? What is this the sixteen-hundreds? It's check only. The audition fee is eighty-five."

"Oh. Well, there are people with arrangements like that. They're just not for me. Dr. Liu told me to set clear boundaries with you."

I was not letting him speed past the subtle reference to keeping a concubine. Or that he somehow had connected telling me I was not to be his concubine to setting realistic boundaries. "You know from experience?"

"No!" The blush traveled to the neckline of his tee shirt. Caleb scratched the back of his reddened ears, and I raised a brow, staying silent. "Okay, yes. A little bit, but it wasn't me. It was a colleague."

I was shocked. Intrigued. Curiosity skittered up my spine. "What part, exactly, wasn't for you?"

Caleb fidgeted, so clearly not enjoying himself that I had no choice but to enjoy this turn of events twice as much. After a drawn-out pause, he replied, "I didn't like the power imbalance that came with money. I'd like for someone to be in love with me, aside from the money."

"How incredibly sweet, yet devastating," I commented. He replied with a shrug. Curiosity got the better of me. "Just how much money do you make to be so preoccupied with being seen and liked only for your money?"

Caleb shook his head. "Enough for Kelsey to have a trust fund. I set it up the day I signed the paperwork. Don't tell her, though."

Because he wanted her to love him, and not his money.

An echo of that aching feeling from breakfast squeezed my heart again. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks, Jules," he said, shaking the ankle that rested atop the other.

I laughed at the nickname I hadn't heard since middle school. "Don't call me that."

"It's cute, like you." His gaze dipped to my socks and back up. "Makes you less scary." Caleb's crooked smile threatened to incinerate me on the spot .

My insides did a summersault. I snapped back, "If you aren't afraid of your ballet teacher, they're not doing their job right."

Caleb stood straight and shrugged as he walked to the door. "You're slipping, then, Jules. You've gotten a lot less scary now that you're on my side."

"I am not on your side!"

He sauntered the last two steps, drawling at me over his shoulder. "I distinctly remember us forming an alliance, and I'd call this little experiment a smashing success so far."

"Keep your enemies close, and all that."

"Don't be such a wet blanket and let me bask in the fact that Kelsey talked to me for, like, two whole hours."

"She complained most of that time."

He pulled his discarded sweater over his head. "Sorry, I can't hear you. Have a good rehearsal!"

"Grow up, Mr. Ramirez!" I shouted at his ass. The door shut behind him, punctuating my sentence, his laughter on the other side serving as his response.

When I went to change my leggings, I saw that I didn't just have powdered sugar on my thighs. One hideously smeared handprint adorned my left butt cheek. There was no way, with my back turned to him at the sink, Caleb hadn't seen it.