Hard Rock Love Box Set, page 26
Lillian couldn’t believe the theater, or the dancers, or the costume workshop, or anything. It was all so overwhelming, that she felt as if she might burst. It was all she could do to keep a straight face and a serious tone of voice. But below the surface, she was exhilarated.
Everything was radiating excitement and manic energy, somehow emulating grace at the same time. There was a discipline to it all—a method, but there was also a flow that was free and uninhibited. It gave Lillian the same feeling that she had when she was a child and would go to any kind of dance show—why had she decided to learn piano and not dance?
Except for now it was more of a, why had she decided to become a photographer instead of a ballerina—as if that was something one decided and then destiny provided for.
She was in one of the rooms where the dancers were warming up now, taking discreet photos as they ran through stretches, a jittery energy in the room as they talked amongst themselves excitedly. She stayed as they did some quick exercises to ensure that they wouldn’t harm any muscles while they performed, and then she followed them into the dressing rooms where they were prepared for the performance.
This had more of a disorganization to it. It felt like everything was all over the place, though Lillian knew there must be some sense of control, after all, this was New York’s premiere ballet company. She stayed until it was almost time for the show to start, before excusing herself to go take up her place in the back of the theater where she would photograph the performance.
She wasn’t as interested in that part though. To her, the real beauty lay in what happened behind the curtain, before the first instrument played and after the last of the applause. The excitement. The secret passionate moments. The glance of friendship. The stretch of a body creating curves. No distractions with glittering jewels and bright fabrics and the smiles of performance, just genuine moments of excitement before a show that meant almost everything to these people.
Despite her preferences, Lillian couldn’t deny that the ballet was absolutely gorgeous. There was something about the marriage of the music, the costumes, and the dance that was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She didn’t think that it would be the same to watch it on video or see it in a photograph though. No matter how talented she was, she knew this moment was meant to experience live.
She made her way backstage to capture the final moments of the evening; capturing the exhaustion after the fact, the adrenaline that still ran through everyone—then, out of the corner of the room—she made eye contact with Sebastian. He pointed to his watch with a smile, then down, signaling to her that they would wait for her to be done.
She was grateful for this, she was exhausted from the day, and having her friends to look forward to, was the icing on the cake. She wondered if Sebastian would stay with them for a bit, so they might discuss the ballet over some tea and light snacks, or maybe even a board game, late though it may be.
It was just as expected after the show; she could tell that the dancers were tired—everyone was. But the glow. They were all glowing with adrenaline. They were all glowing with joy. They were glowing with pride. The liveliness of the atmosphere was made obvious, filled with laughter and constant chatter from all of the cast members. Talking as they got ready to head home, poking jokes at each other and smiling all the while.
She couldn’t even see the traces of exhaustion as strongly as she thought she would be able to, and this, she knew, would only make for a stronger story.
There was something so fascinating, after all, about the perseverance of the human spirit, the human body. People constantly defying all expectations of their limits, keeping going when it should be impossible to do so. Breath when their lungs should be collapsing; speaking when their voice should be hoarse, singing when they should be too tired to do so. She realized to herself that it was these types of stories she wanted to tell those of the amazing spirit of the human race. She wanted to communicate how truly wonderful each individual was—how small battles were being fought every day by so many people, in ways that might not be imagined.
A ballet. A teacher overseeing a study hall. A wildlife conservationist. A librarian seeking to create interest.
There were battles she wanted to capture that integrated the mind, body, and spirit, she thought to herself that this was one of those times.
She felt her hands move on their own accord as she skimmed through backstage, capturing the pictures that were too powerful to describe in words.
It didn’t take long before she was done, the moment was too precious to be overworked, over-captured, and she wanted to let it keep its raw energy. So, she left, heading back towards the entrance of the theater where she knew Sebastian and Rebecca would be waiting for her.
There they were, smiles in hand, welcoming her with their warmth.
Sebastian asked about the backstage experience and Rebecca gushed over the intricacy of the costumes.
In this moment, Lillian felt whole. Today was a good day.
Obviously exhausted, Bella’s supervisor excused her from work early, knowing that there wouldn’t be too much work left to finish on the costuming end that night. Tired, with her eyelids feeling outrageously heavy, Bella wondered why Sebastian hadn’t reached out to her in a while, but also figured that it might better that way. At least, now, she could sleep and get the rest she so desperately needed.
She decided to make her way to the exit of the building, as she descended the last flight of stairs, she was suddenly stopped by the sight of two familiar people, one more than the other.
There he was—Sebastian—conversing with the photographer that had entered their lives earlier that evening, and with another woman she didn’t not recognize at all.
She could feel her heart hit with a pang, and then the feeling of heavy weight. She could tell from the way that Sebastian was looking at the photographer, from the way he laughed and the smiles he was flashing, that she was the one he’d been pining after.
She was the one he’d been thinking of when the two of them had sex.
She was the one preventing him from wanting anything deeper.
She was the one who was making him keep an emotional distance.
It was irrational, but Bella’s heart sank deep in her chest, an unexplained pain radiated from her insides. A hint of aberrant jealousy. She knew that she shouldn’t have, she knew she didn’t love Sebastian and she knew she never would—or certainly, would never intend to. She didn’t have time for him outside of a sexual partner, and it was better off that the two of them remain emotionally detached. This was what she continued to tell herself, but it didn’t stop the awful feeling that welled up inside of her. The way Sebastian looked at that girl, doe-eyed, sprinkling ga-ga, made Bella feel like she wanted anyone to look at her like that.
And then Sebastian looked up, almost as if he felt the stares of a distant on-looker, meeting Bella in the eyes, and she knew, in that moment, that he saw everything within her. He must’ve saw how tired she was, he must’ve saw how her feelings turned in a way she never wanted them to.
She wondered if he even cared.
And then he looked away.
Lucas had just finished putting on his everyday-wear attire and was leaving the building after a long night’s work. Making his way out of the building, he noticed Bella from the corner of his eye, she was watching three strangers with a look of tired heartbreak on her face.
He’d been daydreaming about Bella’s undying love for him, how she would feel longing for him; feel everything they had before. He was watching her incredible beauty, from the shadows of an unlit area of the street, noticing how she exuded confidence in her stance. But in that moment, he also noticed, as she was staring at the strangers, that she was also feeling the feelings he was feeling for someone else.
He saw her and the tall man in the trench coat make eye contact, and he knew, in an instant, that he understood now. By the way that Bella was looking at him, he knew that they must be involved; and he knew by the way that the man was looking at the beautiful photographer that he wanted to be involved with her instead.
All of this—contained within the powerfully, silent spoken looks they gave each other. He thought to himself, that the human race is amazing, and also, that they were all fools.
People gave away too much through just their eyes, and even more through their faces. Without even saying a word, they could give all the evidence needed to pronounce themselves guilty.
And he had become a master detective.
As he watched, he wondered to himself what he might do with this information. The situation could prove itself interesting, especially considering the involvement of both Bella and the beautiful photographer who seemed immune to his charms. How intriguing, he pondered.
He may yet be able to get what he desired most in this situation, possibly without even making too many moves.
The question, of course, then remained.
How should he go about it?
Thirty-One
The story was, in short, a success. The positive feedback was almost immediate, and sales rocketed. To Lillian’s surprise, it had done better than any of her stories with Ash ever did, and Meghan immediately asked if she would be willing to photograph another performance—maybe this time of a different group.
There was an especially large positive response to the photos Lillian had taken in the costume workshop. She expected it was because of the undertones of lust and forbidden love stories that they held, but Meghan nevertheless wanted to see if she could do a special just on the workshop, especially as they got ready for the next show of the season.
That would take a bit more time to set up though, of course, so in the meantime, Lillian would prepare herself to head to another performance—maybe of a more amateur ballet company this time.
Excited about her success, she texted Sebastian as she sat back down at her desk.
Hey! The story did super well.
I heard came his reply, almost instantly. I was lucky to even get a copy. Thankfully, I know to subscribe by now.
Do you even read the magazine?
No, I just look at the pictures. Yours specifically, of course.
Should have known, famous lawyers don’t have time to read anything but case reports.
Awwwwww, don’t say that, I’m reading your texts, aren’t I?
She smiled, shaking her head as she turned back to her work, looking at what was on the top of her agenda for the day.
When they talked like this, she really felt like they were kids again, fifteen, best friends; just them against the world.
Of course, that all changed when he had moved away.
She sometimes wondered what might have happened if they had stayed in touch, if they would have become anything more than a confession of feelings beyond friendship when the sun was hot, and the time seemed endless. Their bodies had been changing then, as had their minds, and she often attributed this as the reason why it all even happened in the first place.
She pushed the thought away. They already tried it all over again, and that didn’t work out at all. She didn’t want to endanger their friendship anymore, not when she finally had him back and things were finally feeling right again.
She became distracted in her work when another text came in.
Want to go to dinner to celebrate?
Is Rebecca coming?
She says she’s too busy, so it would just be the two of us.
Lillian was hesitant to say yes. She couldn’t help but think of the last time they went to dinner just the two of them, and how things had been different then.
She knew that logically, there were no romantic implications, and she was probably overthinking―but she couldn’t help but let her mind wander…
And just because she was worried about it being romantic didn’t mean that she had feelings for him—right?
Sebastian felt a great weight in his chest release when Lillian’s reply came in.
Sure, that sounds great.
He knew that it shouldn’t affect him like this, not anymore, but he was worried that she would see going to dinner just the two of them as verging too close to romantic context.
Of course, that didn’t stop part of him from wanting her to see it that way. If only at least to get some closure on these feelings of his. The feelings kept coming back up, resurfacing in ways that he couldn’t explain. Seeing her do so well, be so successful without him doing anything, it made him more attracted to her than he had ever been before.
Maybe it was his hunger for power. Maybe it was his desire to control things beyond his reach. Maybe it was just his ego, wanting things that he couldn’t have; that he shouldn’t have.
Another go at a relationship between the two of them…the ending of that would likely cause a catastrophic rift that might never be fixed. He understood that much now.
Lillian met Sebastian at the place that the two of them agreed on—a smaller Italian restaurant that fit in her budget so she could pay for her own meal. She had insisted on this before her and Sebastian picked a place.
Having Sebastian pay for her, however much he may have insisted, even just to congratulate her on her success…it felt too close to a date again.
And she was definitely not ready to go anywhere near that territory again.
The waiter—a thinner man with dark skin and immaculately-cared for facial hair—sat them at one of the smaller tables in the back, disappearing to bring them an extra menu and a basket of bread.
Lillian ignored the slight stickiness of the chair—she assumed, as she’d learned to, that it was just a byproduct of the shiny coating that encased the wooden furniture—as she sat down across from Sebastian and smiled.
“Have you had anything from here before?” she asked as he flipped through the singular menu, eyes skimming quickly over the items.
“No, I can’t say I have. The reviews were good though.”
“Maybe we should play it safer then,” she said with a little laugh as Sebastian handed her the menu. There were quite a few items on the menu she doesn’t recognize, not helped by the fact that the dish titles were all in Italian. But there were quite a few pastas, and she felt relatively confident with them.
The waiter returned, carrying another menu and a basket full of freshly baked bread rolls. Lillian could smell them from where she was sitting—that unmistakable, mouth-watering scent. They were warm, she reached out to take one, and the butter that she liberally applied melt almost instantly.
Sebastian looked on, intrigued, as he instead decided to dip his in a more traditional mixture of olive and balsamic vinegar.
“Americans,” he muttered, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, much to Lillian’s amusement.
“Hey, you’re as American as I am,” she said with a laugh.
“To which, I must admit, I am ashamed.”
Lillian rolled her eyes.
“Sure you are. You should be grateful to come from the same country as me, a soon-to-be famous photographer.”
“Bravo, bravo.” He mimed clapping his hands, then turned his attention back to the menu. “Now, what shall we order?”
Home, in his dark, empty apartment, Sebastian didn’t even bother flipping on a light switch before sending a text to Bella.
He needed relief, and he needed it now. He couldn’t bear to spend another second thinking about Lillian, about her smile, her laugh. He couldn’t think about the way she spent at least twenty minutes trying to figure out what to order, or the fact that she insisted on dessert and struggled to finish her slice of decadent chocolate cake.
He especially couldn’t think about the fact that the waiter asked if the two of them were celebrating something. A birthday? An anniversary maybe? Should I bring out another cake for the happy couple?
And Lillian had flushed before waving it off, and he wanted so badly to grasp her hand and nod at the waiter, to tell her to go along with the scheme, if only to see how she might react.
But he knew how uncomfortable that would make her. And as much as he desperately wanted, more than anything, to try being with her again—he had gotten past the point of trying to deny that—he wasn’t about to do anything that would make her feel uncomfortable.
He respected her boundaries that much.
So, it was back to quick release. Back to release with no strings attached. Back to release where he might imagine her face, but he could have someone else’s body beneath him.
Maybe in time he would learn to love this other body. Maybe in time he would be able to convince himself that this body was the only body he needed to know, and that the woman attached to it was the one that he held affection for.
He sometimes wondered if, she too, was thinking of someone else when the two of them touched, when he drove into her. For she had never screamed anyone’s name, only gasped for breath and made noises of indescribable pleasure.
He wondered what it would take to make her scream his name, or if he really wanted her to do that at all.
Bella was just about to fall asleep on her desk, fabric samples scattered around her, when her phone buzzed, rousing her.
It was a text from Sebastian, short, commanding her to come. She forced herself to get up, giving herself a quick glance over in the mirror before asking him to order her an uber. He did so immediately, and she went through the quick process of making herself look at least somewhat presentable for him.
Because the two of them weren’t romantically involved, she didn’t think she’d ever reach the stage where she felt comfortable looking like any sort of mess around him. And long nights spent working on sewing and design, trying to find a handhold in the world, would do that to you. So, she smoothed down her hair, splashed water on her face, and applied a fresh coat of lip gloss.
