She nodded, blinking back tears, but looked too choked up to say anything.
Not good enough.
He released her arms and moved five steps back. "Is that lift we tried the other night the hardest one?"
She shook her head. "There's a more difficult one."
"Tell me what to do."
Her eyes flew open wide. "You want to dance with me? Wait. What about the other day? You pushed me away, Kyle. Why are you here?"
The words were on the tip of his tongue: I'm scared. I want to be with you but I don't know how. I'm not good enough for you. I'm a liar, even to myself.
He sighed. "You need me."
The answer wasn't adequate, he knew that, and her frustrated expression confirmed his fears. She squared her shoulders, though. "This one requires more work on your part."
Relieved she'd stopped crying, he flexed his biceps. "I think I can handle it."
Her face went scarlet, and she gave him a quick smile. "I'm telling you-we need you on this stage."
He grinned. "Not gonna happen. Now, about this lift."
"It's called a fish lift," she said. "The easier version is to dip me in the hold, which is what Josh is supposed to do. The harder way is to lift me over your head." She glanced at the wooden floor. "We'll stick to the dip."
Showing off and lifting her over his head sounded like a good idea, but giving her a concussion if he dropped her didn't. "Fair enough."
"Okay, so I'm going to turn in to you. When I do, bend your knees a little and get an arm around my waist. When my back leg comes up … " She bit her bottom lip. "Um, grab my thigh. About midway up."
"Your thigh. Fine." This was sounding better and better. "Anything else?"
"Once you have me off the floor, I'll hold my pose. You dip my head and do a turn, then bend your knees and I'll step out of the hold."
He clapped his hands. "Okay, Gladwell. Bring it on."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile was back, and that was all that mattered. "One, two, three."
She spun toward him on her toes, and he grabbed her waist. Her back leg came up, just like she described, and he caught it, trying to ignore the lean strength of the thigh muscle in his hand. Her free leg bent so that her foot touched her opposite knee, and she held her arms out, graceful and sure.
"Dip!" she commanded.
He tilted her head down, turned in a circle, then let her go. "Piece of cake."
She beamed. "Not too many guys can do that lift. That's part of why I'm still here." She grimaced. "I'm working on new choreography to take the lifts out."
She went to the edge of the stage and sat, dangling her legs into the orchestra pit. Kyle joined her. "That's too bad."
"It is, but at least I was able to try it with someone." She reached for his hand. "Thank you."
"What about NYU?" he asked, not daring to move his hand, afraid she'd let go.
She stared out into the dark auditorium. "I'll go in-state somewhere. North Texas has a great vocal department. Maybe I'll try their program instead."
Faith sounded-and looked-so tired. Kyle scooted closer and put an arm around her shoulders. "And maybe in a year, you can try to go to NYU again. Or find an agent and make your own way."
"Maybe." She turned her head, and their faces were only inches apart. "You always know how to make me feel better."
"I try."
"You do, and that's why this doesn't make sense. Why did you push me away? You avoided the question earlier."
Now it was his turn to stare out at the auditorium. He knew his palm was getting sweaty in hers, and an alarm in his head shouted, Get out! Get out! "I don't think I'm … good boyfriend material."
"That's a cop-out." She reached out and turned his face back to hers. "And I can prove it."
Before he could say anything-or blink-she pressed her lips against his.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Faith
Faith put every bit of frustration, confusion, grief, and longing behind the kiss, and she wasn't surprised at all when Kyle thawed out and kissed her back. This day had epically sucked, and she needed to take it out on someone.
This seemed like a good way to do it.
He pulled away. "We're not exactly in the safest place. We're kind of hanging over a bottomless pit."
"What, you don't like kissing me, hanging over a bottomless pit?" She pushed herself to her feet. "And it's not that bottomless. Musicians sit in there and don't complain."
He stood. "They must be braver than I am."
"Maybe." She took his hand and tugged him across the stage and behind the curtain. Sets rested along the walls, and dust, costume scraps, and discarded script pages littered the floor. It was dark and quiet, though. And private. "How about here?"
He looked confused. "What about here?"
"To kiss me."
"Are you sure that's what we should be doing?"
Faith wound her arms around his neck. "Definitely. I'm a girl who needs kissing, and badly."
He untangled her arms and for a second, she thought she felt his hands shake. But then his face did that closed-off thing she hated. "Or maybe you've had a really awful day and you aren't thinking this through."
She put her hands on her hips. "Is it me? Am I not good enough for you?"
"I think we both know that's not true." He looked away. Shifted from foot to foot like he wanted to be anywhere but there.
"No." Her temper flared. Maybe kissing wasn't what she needed after all. Maybe she needed to vent to someone. "This shutting-down crap has to stop. Either you want to be with me, or you don't."
"I'm not doing this with you right now."
He turned to go, and the dam broke on her frustration. "We're all messed up inside, Kyle. All of us have baggage. Why won't you let me in?"
He stopped but didn't turn around. "Because this is who I am."
"And I think that's bullshit." She stared at his back. His fists were clenched … and shaking. She sucked in a breath. "This isn't about us at all, is it? It's about you. Look, there's nothing so bad that I won't understand. Let me try. You can trust me."
He shook his head, and his shoulders slumped. "I can't trust anyone."
Kyle left her. The door squeaked as it opened, and slammed shut a second later.
The only sound left was the swish of the curtain against the floor.
"He did what?" Violet yelled. Her face was purple with fury. She'd come over as soon as Faith broke down trying to tell her what happened.
Faith waved a hand, hoping she looked as unaffected as Kyle. Too bad she was affected. "It's over now. He can go be broody and dark somewhere else."
"Says the girl with tearstains on her face and a runny nose." Vi cracked her knuckles. "He better stay clear of me the next few days."
"Why would he think he can't trust anyone?" Faith rubbed at her eyes. "God, things are so messed up right now."
Vi put her arm around Faith's shoulder and snuggled close. "They are, but you're strong and you can take it."
Her heart throbbed painfully. "Are you sure?"
"I am." Violet stood and brushed Faith's hair off her forehead. "You know … "
Faith's eyes narrowed. "What?"
She sighed. "He fooled me, too."
After a quick hug, she trotted downstairs, leaving Faith alone. Anytime Vi left a room, there was a void, like all the good mojo left with her. Faith sank down on her bed, hugging a pillow. She hadn't imagined it, then. Kyle had been attracted to her, and not just as a quick hookup or disposable girl.
For some reason, knowing that made the rejection hurt worse.
Her phone buzzed on her nightstand. She reached for it, thinking Vi had forgotten something, but it buzzed again, and again. Someone was calling instead of texting, but she didn't recognize the number.
She allowed the call. "Hello?"
"Faith?" a slightly out-of-breath male voice asked.
"Yeah." She frowned. "Cade?"
"Oh, good. I was worried you might think I was a creeper and hang up."
She smiled despite her mood. "No one could ever think you're a creeper."
"That depends on whether or not Scarlett Johansson got all ninety-seven of my letters."
Faith's mouth dropped open. "Uh, what?"
"I kid, I kid," he said. "Faith, I called to apologize. I never should've asked Kyle to come tonight."
He sounded so upset, she forgave him immediately. "You thought you were doing something helpful. And that's sweet."
"On my part, maybe." Cade sounded bitter, so unlike him. "I'd hoped … never mind. It doesn't matter so much now."
"What did you hope?" she asked cautiously.
There was a long pause. "I hoped Kyle might pull himself together. He'd lose his ever-loving shit if he knew I was telling you this, but he doesn't know what to do with his feelings, so he stuffs them in a jar."
"Are we talking about Kyle Sawyer?" she asked. "Badass, I-bone-college-girls, loner Kyle?" Even saying it sounded fake.
Cade laughed. "One and the same. Anyway, I wanted you to know how sorry I am."
"Don't be." Cade's saying Kyle stuffed his feelings away matched her own suspicions. What could possibly be so bad that he felt like he had to shut everyone out-shut her out?