Dances with Monsters(82)

Heath blinked in surprise. "What?"

"The song you walk out to. They all have one. I remember that you never did, except for when the Marines sang their hymn to you."

Heath shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't thought about that at all. Probably nothing."

"No way," Drew said in disbelief. "You have to have something. You can't have nothing!"

"Why?" Heath asked, seeming very amused by her. "What difference does it make?"

"It makes all the difference!" Drew exclaimed. "Are you kidding me? Certain songs touch different emotions in you, get you riled up or calm you down. There's a reason why runners listen to songs with high-energy melodies and beats, or why people who want to calm down listen to jazz or classical, or something like that."

He smiled at her vehemence. "All right," he said. "What song do you think I should have?"

"Well, I don't know," she said, exasperated. "Only you know that. But you have to find one."

He laughed, folding his arms over his chest. "Okay. I'll work on it. But I'm only doing this for you."

She smiled widely. "Thanks, I appreciate that." She paused. "It should probably be some super hard rock song or like angry rap or something."

He lifted a hand. "You wanna pick it out?"

"No, no," she hastened to say. "Just saying. That seems to suit you the most."

He smiled at her and she shrugged, and they both resumed watching television. Drew leaned her head on a sofa pillow, noting there were at least three cushions between them on her sectional couch.

"How's your dance comin' along?" he asked after a moment. She lifted her head.

"Good," she said. "It's all finished. I just have to work out the kinks now."

"Kinks?"

"Yeah," she replied. "All the imperfections, just tightening everything up and fine-tuning it all. And I decided on my footwear and my costume."

"Footwear?" he repeated. "I mean, wouldn't you just wear –" His eyes lit on her pointe shoes slung over her hall closet door handle. "Those?"

She glanced over at them. "I was going to, but I decided on something different."

"What's your costume look like?"

"Well, it doesn't exist yet," she explained. "But you'll just have to wait and see."

"Wait and see," he repeated. "Does that mean I'm invited?"

She half-smiled and glanced down at the cushion shyly, playing with a loose thread. "Would you want to come?"

"Of course," he said automatically. "What song did you pick?"

She smiled again. "I'm not sure if I should reveal that or not," she said. "You know, to maintain the integrity of the dance and all."

Heath chuckled. "Whatever that means," he said teasingly.

At that moment, a local commercial came on, advertising the performance of Giselle in two nights. Drew's face fell, though she tried not to let it. She'd almost—almost—forgotten that the performance was just around the corner, and disappointment washed through her anew.

Heath was watching her face. "Still no luck with tickets? Scalpers, eBay, nothin'?"

She half-smiled for his benefit. "No. No luck. It's okay. I've seen it before and I have it on DVD." She tried to sound neutral but her voice came out sad and wistful.

Heath glanced at her again. "Well, how about this," he began, and Drew gave him her full attention, her brows lifted with curiosity. "Thursday night, me and you, we go somewhere, hang out, take your mind off it."

Drew's smile widened. "That's really sweet of you," she said. "Really. But it's okay. I'm just being dramatic about it."

"Okay," Heath said. "So how about we just hang out together because we want to?"

Drew bit back a grin. "You mean like a date?"

"Would that be so bad?"

Are you fucking kidding me? she thought. "No. That would not be bad at all."

"All right, then," he said. "How about dinner and a movie? I've been wantin' to check out that place downtown, Elements."

Drew's head snapped up alertly. "That's my favorite restaurant."

Heath raised his scarred eyebrow at her mildly. "Oh, yeah? Cool. So you know it's good, then."

"Very good," she replied. Also very expensive and fancy, she thought. She wanted to tell him she'd be fine with pizza and beer somewhere but didn't want to offend him; she hoped he didn't think she was high maintenance or anything.

"So, is it a date then?" he asked softly. "Can you get off work in time for dinner at, say, six?"