Dances with Monsters(21)

She lifted her eyes to Bunz, who was still grinning. "What is this?" she asked softly, holding up the flyer.

"Um, I thought you were just reading it…"

"No. I get what it is. I mean, why did you give it to me?"

Bunz shrugged. "I thought that maybe, you know, you could create a piece for the showcase and show everyone in Pittsburgh what an incredible dancer you are."

"Except for the small part where I don't perform in front of people anymore." Drew folded the flyer and handed it back.

Bunz made no move to collect it from her. "You just think you can't," she insisted. "But, you can. And you should. You're so talented, Drew. Don't hide that!"

"I appreciate it," Drew replied, folding the flyer again and stuffing it into her pocket since Bunz wouldn't take it. "But I cannot even begin to fathom dancing for a crowd. I know you mean well, and I love you for it, B, but I'm sorry. I can't."

"You will," Bunz replied, and Drew whirled her head to look at her.

"Pardon?"

"You will," Bunz repeated. "Because I already registered you and paid the fee."

"I guess I'm paying you back, then," Drew said evenly.

"No. I don't want your money. I want you to get on that stage and blow everyone away."

"Dude," Drew said impatiently. "I'm paying you back. I refuse to let you do that and besides, I'm not doing this."

"I won't take your money," Bunz said, a note of finality in her voice. "You will get your ass on that stage and dance, bitch."

"Then I'll give this money to your bosses and have them put it into your check," Drew said testily. "Don't know if you knew, but I know where you work."

"And I will give it back to your parents to give back to you," Bunz replied. "We can do this all day. Look, you've got two whole months. Put something awesome together and let's get it poppin'! You're amazing, Drew, I don't know why you don't get that. You could do this and people would be wowed." Bunz started a Charleston step, grinning from ear to ear. Drew couldn't stay mad at her and reluctantly, a smile pulled at her lips. Finally, she couldn't help but join in, and she wondered what anyone who could see them would say—two grown women doing the Charleston in the kitchen of an Italian café.

Finally, when they were laughing loudly enough to echo out into the dining area, Drew shook her head. "I will think about it," she said. "That's all I can promise you. And if I don't do the showcase, you're getting your money back and if you have anything else to say on the subject, you can suck it."

Bunz immediately made to protest but Drew held up a hand. "I'll think about it," she cautioned.

Bunz sighed and grumbled. "Fine." As she turned back to her biscotti dough, Drew heard her mumbling to herself under her breath.

"What's that?" she asked, pausing in the doorway of the kitchen and putting her hands on her hips.

"Nothing!" Bunz called back cheerily. Then, in a lower tone to herself but meant to be heard by Drew, she added, "Bitch."

Drew chuckled and shook her head, heading back to the counter.

***

Heath knew he had a problem.

Over the course of the next week, Drew came each and every night, just as she always did. The difference was, Heath now found himself seeking her out around the times she normally showed up, and when he saw her, his gut would do strange things and clench up in an uncomfortable way.

It wasn't anything he was particularly familiar with and he wasn't sure what it meant or how he felt about it. All he knew was that he physically reacted when he saw her, and he didn't like that at all. He didn't like knowing that something or someone was capable of making him react involuntarily that way. He'd always prided himself on his absolute control and decisions where he, alone, was concerned. Now, someone he barely knew had him checking around for her each day and had his stomach pulsing and heart beating just a little bit harder than normal whenever he saw her. He was annoyed—that shit was for pussies.

He would have been fine leaving her completely alone, letting her come in and work out as she wanted to and then go about her own business. Now that it was clear that she, along with any other woman there, spectator or participant, should be left alone and treated with equal respect (an ideology that disgusted Heath to have to even break down for a group of adults), she was taken as much for granted as the paint on the wall by the other clientele.

But she went out of her way to seek him out, to make conversation, to say hello and goodbye. And he never failed to respond in kind. Partly because it would be rude to simply ignore someone who was talking to him. And also because…he wanted to.