Rival: A Feuds Novella (The Feuds Series) (3 page)

“I should probably let you alone, then,” Davis said, her cheeks burning. She wasn’t a real member. Did he know that? Davis was surprised to feel a small pang of disappointment. She wasn’t allowed to have him … and yet something about his golden eyes was holding her captive.

“No! Stay. I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, as if he knew what she was thinking. Still, she had one foot out the door. “Honestly. It’s nice to have company. I just … you know. Getting away from the crowd is nice sometimes. The dance moms.” He winked. “But you don’t seem to have one of those.”

Davis bit her lip, looking down. “She passed away when I was born.”

“I’m sorry,” Seth told her. “Truly. I didn’t know. Please, sit down.”

Davis sat next to him on the wooden bench, fully aware of his body, still clad in just a towel, next to her.

“I’m not a member, you know,” she said, leaning toward him. “I’m just here on a guest pass.”

“All the more reason to enjoy the Apex,” he told her. She crossed her legs, and her knee brushed his. He smiled a little, but she pushed away, embarrassed that she’d let herself become so vulnerable. “I didn’t mean you,” he said. “When I was talking about the crowd. I just meant … being a trainer, I’m here all the time. There are so few places to be at peace. It’s the others I wanted to avoid. They’re all so … cutthroat. You seem different. You practice alone. Do your own thing.”

“You’ve seen me?”

“Of course.” He seemed surprised that she’d asked. “It’s my job to see you. I’m a trainer. I’ve wanted to work with you.”

“Me?” She wished her voice didn’t convey so much surprise.

“Yes, you.”

By then the steam room was thick with warm fog, thankfully disguising her blush, and Davis began to feel like her limbs were made of rubber. She leaned back against the bench behind her, relaxing. She could hardly see Seth anymore, so when she spoke it felt almost as if she were thinking aloud.

“Tell me about your career,” she said to him. “You’re so talented as a dancer. But now you’re a trainer. Why did you make the change?”

“It’s not much of a change,” he corrected. “I’ve been dancing since I was three. This is what’s right for me now. But tell me more about you,” he said, angling his body toward hers. He was so close now that his knee brushed hers briefly, sending tingles down her spine. “Those routines I saw you working on … very impressive. I’m not surprised you were invited to the showcase.” He tilted his head to the side, waiting for her response.

“How did you know?” She felt her cheeks burning, and despite herself, she smiled. She ducked her head, hoping he couldn’t detect her pleasure at being noticed by him.

“I’m on the committee,” he said. “We’ve been watching you since you came.”

“Oh?” She hoped Seth didn’t notice how many octaves her voice shot up. “Well, you’re full of secrets.”

Davis wished she had paid more attention any of the multiple times Vera had tried to teach her how to flirt.

“Here’s another secret. Don’t tell anyone I told you—you’re not supposed to know it. Every single person voted you in. It’s usually just about the majority. You were the only one to get a unanimous vote.”

“Really?” Davis was shocked. For a fleeting moment she wondered why he was telling her this, but she was so stunned that it hardly registered. “Wow. That’s … I’m so flattered. It’s weird, I didn’t know anyone was watching me at all. I know it’s not a pre-trial or anything. Not like the Pre-qualifiers. But I was planning on debuting one of the routines I’ve been practicing for the Olympiads.”

“The piece from
Giselle,
” Seth said, nodding. Davis’s palms gripped the bench under her. He’d been paying that much attention? She was always really absorbed in her routines when she practiced, but it was strange that she’d never once noticed him watching her. “Why not show me a move now?” he asked.

“It’s a little too foggy for that,” she said. “Plus, um …” She gestured toward her towel.

“A very graceful dancer—much like yourself—could definitely do her entire routine in a towel. Or the bikini that’s underneath. Just something small,” he pressed, his look suddenly serious. “I think your
temps de fleche
might need a minor adjustment.”

“Okay.” The steam must have been getting to her head, because Davis found herself standing, abandoning her towel, and performing an easy
temps de fleche
in her bikini. When she grabbed for her top, however—it had started loosening—her foot slid against the floor, which was slick with steam. She reached out to catch herself but fell, twisting her ankle.

“Dammit,” said Seth, jumping up and moving to help her. “I never should have asked you to do that. I’m so sorry. Here, let me check it.” He put one arm under Davis’s shoulders and lifted her back on the bench.

“I’m okay,” she insisted. “Really. It was just a twist.” But she had to grit her teeth to hide her pain. She rarely felt any pain at all—that was a perk of being a Prior. You didn’t
get
hurt, or if you did it was so minor and healed so quickly that you felt almost nothing at all. The image of Gabrielle Rydell and her two beautiful, untwisted ankles doing perfect
temps de fleche
passed through her head. She groaned.

“I’m a trainer,” he reminded her, a playfully serious expression lighting up his eyes. “This is my job. Just let me check it.”

Davis hesitated, pulling back, and he laughed.

“Listen, this is the second time you’ve fallen—or almost fallen—today because of me. Let me at least make it up to you. There’s nothing to be shy about. After all, you apparently know everything about me and I’ve been spying on you all week. We’re practically …
besties-since-birth
.”

He said that last bit in a mock-Vera tone so accurate, Davis couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine. Examine the ankle.”

“Relax,” he told her. “You won’t regret it.” He ran his hands up her ankle, and she winced as he hit the sore spot. But the more she eased into it the better it felt, and he moved his hand up her calf, kneading that muscle, too. She couldn’t help it; she let a moan escape her lips. She’d been working so hard, and this was even better than the hydromassage she’d had earlier. Noticing her pleasure, Seth worked farther up her leg to her knee and then switched to the other leg.

“How about a back massage?” he suggested. “It’ll only help you. Everything’s connected.”

“Okay,” she whispered, which was all she could manage with Seth’s hands on her. At that point, he could have said nearly anything. She was totally pliable. So when he pulled her close to him on the steam-room bench, she didn’t resist. She turned over on her stomach, feeling his hands push her towel lower. She felt completely exposed, but not in a bad way.

Then he was kneading her shoulders.

Then the middle of her spine.

Then farther down to the small of her back, just along her bikini line.

He was leaning so close she could feel his breath on her skin.

Davis craned her neck, looking behind her to see what he was doing. He was sitting within inches of her on the wooden bench. Did he even realize how bad this would look if someone walked in? It felt good to have him close. But it wasn’t okay. She knew that.

Yet she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. She met his eyes, and he leaned toward her. She rolled over onto her back, looking up at him.

He trailed his fingers along her side, and she felt all of her skin burning and tingling where he touched. When his hand got to her shoulder, he leaned in …

An inch, another inch … until their lips were almost grazing and his breath was hot on her cheek. He lowered his eyelids, leaning closer toward her. One last millimeter and they’d kiss. Her heart was going crazy, and her skin was on fire; she’d never felt so attracted to anyone before. It was as if her body was being pulled toward his with the force of a magnet. His naked torso was practically on top of her, with her towel pushed completely off.

Davis wiggled from under him, gasping. Kissing a trainer would ruin her chances at the Olympiads, if anyone found out. And the Olympiads meant everything. More than whatever
this
was.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes wide and searching.

She breathed heavily but didn’t bother to respond. She couldn’t. What if someone had seen them?

The air was heavy around her, and she suddenly wanted to push her way out of the room, away from Seth and everything he represented—temptation and lust and her future, all rolled up into one. She was thankful she couldn’t see his face through the thick steam from where she sat now, at the opposite end of the bench.

“Davis?” he asked quietly. She tried to ignore the hurt in his voice.

Then there was a knock on the door, and the handle began to move.

The spa attendant poked her head into the room, frowning at Davis, who instinctively stood up from the bench. How could she have forgotten about the attendant? The spa fight with Vera seemed like years ago.

“I’ve been cleaning up the mess you and your little friend made for the past twenty minutes,” the attendant said with a sniff. “This is the
Apex.
We’re not used to this kind of wanton disrespect.”

“I’m sorry,” Davis said, and she was. She’d never have gone crazy like that if she’d been thinking about someone else having to clean up her and Vera’s mess. Davis had just been so caught up in the moment, the fun of it all. Sometimes dancing took over and she forgot how to have fun. That was where Vera came in … along with the repercussions.

The attendant’s voice was stiff. “I’ve consulted with the director of the facility, and you’ll have to do something to show that you’re willing to make up for it. This weekend we’re sponsoring a children’s event; you’ll be expected to provide free dance lessons, and your friend will provide music lessons.”

“Oh.” Davis nodded. “Of course. Sure. Yes. We’d be happy to,” she said, acutely aware of Seth behind her, listening to her getting chastised. She’d planned to practice all weekend.

“I’ll just leave this door open and you two can see yourselves out,” said the attendant, scanning Seth and then Davis, her eyes projecting her obvious disapproval. Davis nodded, her face burning.

“I’ll see you later,” Davis mumbled toward Seth, moving past the threshold.

“Wait a sec,” he said, laying a hand on her arm. “I want to see you again. Maybe when you’re not so busy cleaning up your messes.” He winked, but Davis was mortified.

“Yeah, maybe,” she said, grabbing her clothes and stepping out into the main locker room. She headed for the ladies’ changing room, Seth a few steps behind her. He was definitely persistent; she had to give him that. But she had made too much of a mess of things already—there was no way she was going to risk getting caught kissing a trainer again.

She rounded the corner and nearly collided with Vera.

“I thought you left?”

“Crazy lady caught me,” Vera said, rolling her eyes. “Guess we’re stuck doing the kiddie event this weekend. Oh! Seth!” Vera’s face brightened. Davis groaned inwardly. She knew Vera well enough by now to know when she was scheming.

“Hello again,” he said, taking a step in the direction of the men’s room.

“Before you go—I just remembered. We’re having a dinner party—a kind of low-key friends’ thing—tomorrow night. You should totally come! My boyfriend will be there.”

“We are?” It was the first Davis had heard of it.

“Davis. I told you about this yesterday,” Vera said with a pointed look.

“I’m there,” Seth said before Davis could protest. “Just let me know what time.”

“I’m sure we’ll see you here tomorrow,” Vera replied. “Or you can just give Davis your number now.”

“We’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Davis’s whole body flushed. “Come
on,
Vera. My dad can give you a ride home.”

***

“Oh my god, Vera,” Davis said as soon as they were out of the building. “How could you do that? You essentially invited him on a double date.”

“That’s exactly what I did.” Vera smiled smugly as Davis’s dad’s chauffeur tooted the horn.

“Could you have been more obvious?”

“Obvious about what?” her dad wanted to know as the girls slid into the backseat. He turned from where he sat in the front passenger seat, greeting them with a smile. “Hello, Vera! Nice to see you. Will we be taking you to our apartment or yours?”

“Mine, please,” said Vera. “Nice to see you, too, Mr. Morrow. ‘Obvious’ just about how amazing Davis was at rehearsal today.”

Davis’s dad chuckled fondly. “You two. Two peas in a pod. Just peas with opposite tendencies.”

“Something like that,” grumbled Davis. “Dad, you’re coming to the Apex for the showcase, right? I’m going to be performing on Friday.”

“Sweetheart, I would love to,” her dad said while eyeing his DirecTalk for incoming messages. “You know I can’t make it. I have a campaign event and it’s much too late to reschedule. But I know you’ll do great. Hang on a sec. Hello? … Yes, I’ll be there shortly,” he said into his DirecTalk. “Hmm? … I agree. The strike is infuriating. Absolutely, just let me—”

Davis tuned the rest out. It was always
blah blah blah,
“campaign,”
blah blah blah
“strike.” Sometimes she felt like she only saw her dad in the car. The rest was just the campaign and his “campaign personality,” and it was no secret that all of them—her stepmom and little sister included—wouldn’t mind having the old Robert Morrow back.

“How about Delino’s?” Vera asked. “That’s, like, a low-key but still cool vibe, and they have those little booths, so it could be romantic but not overwhelmingly so.”

“Delino’s is too sceny.” If this double date was really on, she needed to minimize the embarrassment levels. Delino’s was a white-tablecloth kind of place. More important, they might be
seen
there. Which, of course, was normally exactly what Vera was going for. But Davis wouldn’t risk it.

“You’re so right,” Vera agreed, scrolling through her DirecTalk while Davis stared out the window. She was exhausted; the day had made her weary. Normally it was just rehearsal, which was exhausting enough. Not rehearsal plus boy drama plus Vera drama plus locker-room drama. Davis rested her head against the pane of the car window, feeling exhaustion weaken her limbs.