Chapter 4

The sound of the Waltz of the Flowers from The Nutcracker filled the ballet studio, accompanied by the soft thud of pointe shoes against the floor and the instructor’s steady count: “One-two-three, one-two-three.” Light slanted through the high windows, catching the sheen of sweat on the dancers’ skin as they moved through the partnering sequence. Amy Takahashi tried to focus on her breathing, on the precise extension of her leg, and on the controlled lift of her partner’s hands at her waist. But her gaze kept drifting.

Elena moved two spots over, her lithe body gliding through the air with effortless grace. The girl’s dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, a few damp strands clinging to the pale skin of her neck. Every time they rotated partners or mirrored the combination across the room, Amy felt it again—that flutter low in her stomach, the same one she’d confessed to Mrs. Lee. Elena’s leotard hugged the subtle swell of her breasts and the lean lines of her hips. When Elena arched into a cambré, exposing the long, smooth column of her throat, Amy’s mouth went dry.

She forced her eyes forward, cheeks burning. Don’t stare. Not here.

After class, the usual chatter filled the locker room as everyone peeled off damp clothes and headed for the showers. Amy lingered at her locker long enough that she ended up in the communal shower area at the same time as Elena. Steam already curled through the tiled space, warm water hissing from multiple shower heads.

Amy stepped under a spray two nozzles down, keeping her back mostly turned. She tried not to look. Really. But as Elena tilted her head to rinse shampoo from her hair, water sluiced down the graceful slope of her neck and over her shoulders. The sight sent a sharp pulse of heat between Amy’s thighs. Her nipples tightened under the hot spray. She shifted her weight, thighs pressing together, suddenly and embarrassingly aware of how damp she felt between them—and it had nothing to do with the water.