The universe had a sick sense of humor.
I paused in the studio’s doorway. Scarlett was already in there setting up, but something kept me from entering right away.
I’d told myself I would stay away from her before I found out who she was. Obviously, I didn’t have that option anymore.
But you do have the option of not showing up extra early in order to spend more alone time with her, an annoying voice pointed out in my head.
My jaw tensed. Oh, shut up.
Arguing with myself. Never a good sign.
Scarlett turned. Our gazes collided, and a streak of awareness ran down the length of my spine.
“You’re early.” She didn’t move from her spot near the barre, nor did I move from the doorway.
“I’m just that type of student.”
“You mean a teacher’s pet?”
“Darling, if you want to call me pet, I won’t stop you.”
My mouth curled into a tiny grin at the pink tint creeping over her neck and face.
She blushed so easily. It was adorable, especially when it contradicted the words coming out of her mouth.
“Two new rules,” she said. “One, no flirting with me. Ever.”
“Ah, we’re back to that again. Ever’s a long time.” I finally abandoned my post in the doorway and entered the studio. “Also, I wasn’t flirting. I was telling the truth.”
“Two,” she continued, ignoring me. “Don’t call me darling.”
“What about honeybun?”
“No.”
“Madame?”
“No.”
“Tinkerbell?”
“Only if you want me to kick you in the tinkerbell between your legs.”
A burst of laughter erupted from my chest. “Here I thought ballerinas were supposed to be soft and elegant.”
“Oh, we are.” Scarlett cocked an eyebrow. “We’re also, pound for pound, some of the strongest athletes in the world. So believe me when I say I will kick you and it will hurt.”
“I believe you.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “No flirting, no darling. Understood.”
Our repartee died down when Vincent showed up a minute later. Typical. He always ruined things.
However, Scarlett’s warning from our last session was fresh in my mind, so I kept my mouth shut and ignored him the best I could.
That probably wasn’t what Coach had in mind when he forced us to train together, but he wasn’t here. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
We didn’t have much time for “bonding” regardless. People underestimated the rigor of ballet because it looked so ethereal, but in reality, the training was brutal—and we were still in the beginner’s stage.
Scarlett’s delicate appearance was a red herring; she ran her studio like a bloody drill sergeant. Even Coach would be impressed.
“One, two, three, four. Repeat, two, three, four. Good. Again. I—” Scarlett stopped short, the color draining from her face.
Vincent and I faltered.
“Are you okay?” I asked at the same time he said, “Is it—”
“No. I’m okay.” She flashed a tight smile. “I just have to…use the loo. Keep going. I’ll be right back.”
My gaze followed her out of the room. Her walk seemed off, like she was favoring one leg over the other, but that might’ve been a trick of the eye.
She’s fine. She had no reason to lie, and even if she wasn’t feeling well, she was capable of taking care of herself.
So why did I feel worried?
“Don’t even think about it.” Vincent’s sharp tone brought my attention back to him. “I saw the way you were looking at her,” he said when I raised a questioning brow. “Touch my sister, and you’re dead.”
“Drop the overprotective brother bit, DuBois. It’s cliché.”
“I’m just giving you a friendly warning.” There wasn’t an ounce of friendliness in his expression. “Scarlett is off limits.”
