Before You Go

TWENTY-ONE

I wake up the next morning with butterflies in my stomach and a smile on my face, and wish I could get back to my dreams about Noah. It’s only five o’clock in the morning, the earliest I’d been up in months, and I can’t sleep. I tossed and turned all night. Energy pulsates in my bones and I can’t lay still, I need to find a way to calm down.

I slip on my ballet shoes and get to work.

I spend the next hour doing floor work and turns. After I’m done, I go to the kitchen for some water. My legs tighten with each step. Strangely, it feels good. No pain, no gain and all that.

After my shower, I almost trip on the box I pulled out earlier to get my ballet slippers. Out of curiosity, I open it. It’s full of make-up, a straightener, and colorful hair accessories. I laugh at those, not believing how I once put that crap in my hair. The make-up and flatiron, however, I could see using some of that. It might look nice to cover the dark circles under my eyes and add some gloss to my lips, and maybe run an iron down my hair so I don’t have to slick it back in a headband and ponytail every day.

I bring the goods to my bathroom and begin experimenting. Not too much, not like before. I don’t want to see that girl again, but maybe I could create someone new—someone who can think for herself and doesn’t have to impress anyone.

I pull the iron down my long hair, not to make it perfect, just enough to take out the frizz. I run my hands through it, loving the soft feeling on my fingers. I find some concealer and dab a little under my eyes, run the mascara wand through my lashes, and put some gloss on my lips. I look almost human.

When I see Noah on my way to class, he doesn’t talk at first, just stares. He stares and smiles. Then he grabs my hand.

I can’t take it any longer. “What?” I ask him.

“You look beautiful today,” he says. “It’s weird, somehow you look more like you. If that makes sense.”

“Well, if you like this, you would’ve loved me in Illinois. Primped and polished; lean and mean.”

“No, that sounds too fussy for you. This is perfect.”

“Thank you,” I simply say. And I mean it.

“So, are you ready to work on your control issues tonight?” Noah’s grin is devious and sexy as hell.

“I think so. You have something in mind?”

“I do.” He wiggles his eyebrows and it makes me nervous.

“Should I be worried?”

Noah grabs my hands now. “No,” he assures me. “Not at all. In fact, I think we should do this at your place to make you more comfortable.”

“Okay,” I waver.

“Great. I’ll be there at seven,” he says before we go into Sands’ room.

I don’t hear one word during class.

###

Wear something comfortable. That was Noah’s text an hour ago. Not only does he want control of my body tonight, he’s telling me what to wear too. I’m not so sure this is a good idea.

Still, I follow his instructions.

I have on my black yoga pants and one of my cotton wrap ballet tops over a camisole, and I’m pacing across my apartment. A knock on the door stops me mid-stride.

“Hi,” Noah greets me, a smile spread across his beautiful face.

He must’ve had an interview tonight because he’s dressed up, looking as edible as ever. His gray pants hang on him in a way that makes my entire core clench. His blue shirt fits him perfectly and shows off his broad shoulders and narrow waist and when he loosens his tie, it’s all I can do not to jump him right there. Instead, I give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, yourself,” I say, guiding him into my apartment.

We take a seat on the couch and Noah links our hands before he starts assessing the place.

“What are you doing?” I laugh, wondering what he has up his sleeve.

“Just planning out our little experiment,” he says, picking up my ballet slippers by the mirror. “We’re you practicing? You look like a prima ballerina in those clothes.”

“I did earlier today,” I admit.

“I remember your dad telling me you are an amazing dancer.”

“That’s just my dad bragging.” I brush off Noah’s comment. That is the last thing I want to talk about right now. “So, are we going to do this or what?”

“Yes, we are.” He lifts my hand and kisses each knuckle. “As soon as you stop being so bossy.”

“Noah,” I huff. “At least tell me what you have planned.”

“Okay, you tyrant. I thought we’d start with some trust exercises.”

“Like having me fall into your arms?” We used to do things like that with new dance partners. Relief washes over me. I can do this.

“Yeah, stuff like that,” he says, his eyes gleaming. “At first.

“And then?”

“Have you ever heard of sensate focus?”

“No,” I draw out the word. Nerves flutter away in my belly.

“It’s this technique used in sexual therapy.”

“What?” I try to remain composed.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Noah chuckles. “It’s not as scary as it sounds. It’s a way to help with intimacy and control.”

Oh boy, leave it to the journalist to research this stuff. I don’t even want to know what he has planned. One day at a time. “But all that stuff is later, right?”

“Right.” He smiles, pulls his tie from his collar, and dangles it from his fingers. “Are you ready for the first exercise, Tabitha?”

Unable to find my words, I nod to let him know I’m game.

Noah sweeps my hair over one shoulder and kisses my neck. I secretly hope there will be more of this in our experiment. I close my eyes and shiver as he places the tie over my eyes, tying it behind my head. “Hang on,” he whispers.

I can hear him moving around the living room and my hands instantly go damp. My heart rate picks up and I know I’m close to a full-fledged panic attack.

Noah takes my hands, lifting me upright. “I’ve got you,” he says in my ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Tab. And we can stop at any time.”

His words help me pull it together. “Let’s do it,” I say.

“That’s my girl. Okay, this exercise is called minefield.”

“Nice,” I quip. “Putting me into a war scenario. This is fab.”

“The point of it is trust, Tabby. I’ve set up mines and now you have to trust me to avoid them.”

I stand and clear my head. And then Noah helps me navigate the minefield. I listen to his low voice, follow his directions, and he deftly leads me around danger to safety.

It’s unfortunate that in the real world, there are just too many minds to avoid.