Page 16 of The Breaking Pointe

no one

NOELLE

I don’t remember the last time I felt inclined to freshen up for a man in fifteen minutes or less. To tell the truth, I’m positive that this is the first time at all that I’ve put in effort to this extent since I was in high school. Much less actually wanted to since being in my previous relationship. As much as Daniel proclaimed that he wanted me looking, smelling, and parading around a certain way, I knew if I did the opposite, there would be less of what he wanted, and more of what I did.

My only form of power is space and privacy.

I don’t want that any less today, but I’m feeling comparatively selfless, and I’d like to share some of that space and privacy with Colton.

So much so that I’m brushing my teeth and restyling my hair in a karaoke bar bathroom with ten minutes to spare. I realize he said that he doesn’t care, and maybe it doesn’t even matter to him, but after previous words have been said, I don’t feel as

flattering as other ballerinas do in their practice attire. Nor do I believe I look anything other than ridiculous. My hair is slicked so tightly that not one curl is coiled, my bodysuit is squeezing me so much that you can see every sculpt of my body, and my objectionably long, muscular legs take over the show. All making me look like an alien, as I label it, but the list of comparisons is endless.

After spraying my hair with my mini spray bottle filled with water and conditioner, I’m able to tame it to my liking. The no make-up, all-natural thing was simply going to have to work for me, and work overtime, at that. So were my dull, navy-blue leggings, and my dad’s old Chicago Bull’s sweatshirt. The rest of what I had changed out of was now shoved deeply into my duffle bag full of every womanly need I could have on my daily adventures. Still having around five minutes to spare, I manage to get a room that is reminiscent of a normal living area and order a beer for him and a green tea shot for myself.

I set my bag far off into a tiny open space beside the couch and make myself as comfortable as possible, secretly waiting for the waitress to leave me there. As soon as she does, I look at the menus that she left perfectly arranged on the table.

Even though this isn’t our first time seeing each other, it al- most feels like it is. He’s seen a lot more than I’ve comprehended, and I’m stuck in a daze of being shy and starstruck, even after having his defined, heavy body sweating over the top of me while talking me through it. I feel like I’m having to regain all that confidence I had built up the other night, all over again. This fuzzy feeling I keep getting is like someone who keeps unleashing a butterfly garden in my belly. Every time I try to brush it off, it never seems to work. Really, it’s every time I think of him. Now I have to look him in the face again and tame the

butterflies in real time, with no preparation. I’ve done a pretty shitty job at trying to avoid the feeling since then, and anytime I have a thought of him touching me, or kissing me—well, I can’t stop. I don’t want to, which speaks volumes of progression for me. Lauren and Annie would be so proud to see it.

The last few minutes of waiting get to me. I don’t sing, so I doubt I’ll pick a song, and I only took a shot because I’m shaking like a chihuahua. I wasn’t going to decline the offer, because if I did, who knows when I would ever see him again. He told me I should stop denying good things, and that’s what I’m going to do. For now, until he gives me a reason to pour it down the drain, which I’m sure he will. They all do. It’s the effect that rich, privileged men give off. What they want is what they get, but I’ve learned the hard way that I’m no object to desire if the only reward is having me. The only object I desire is to be loved by someone human.

The silence in the room is making it feel smaller by the minute. I see the head of the waitress appear outside of the door, suddenly with a taller gentleman following her in a frenzy.

Silence no longer.

The door swings open with a smiley Colton, subjecting me to hearing him thank the waitress for the beer and complimenting her service right after.

He’s so hospitable to everyone around him like nobody owes him anything in this world, and he owes them all of it. You would never know he was an up-and-coming socialite, just by looking at him. Though I think that everyone looks like that here in New York. He’s one of the more humble, guy-next-door types, it seems. It’s refreshing, instead of being flexed on every five minutes, like I know anything about Rolex watches or cars. I’d rather be outsmarted in history knowledge and artwork over

that, any day.

If he’s a mind reader, too, then I’d really love to know. Or he could tell me who exactly gave him the cozy memo about the dress code. What I want to believe is that he dressed down to make me feel better, but I would be grasping for the very last straw by thinking that way.

“You’re so cute, sitting in here like it’s a little sleepover.”

He gives a short laugh before sitting down on the couch”

Thanks for ordering this, by the way.”

“I figured you might like it. Or maybe want it, since we’re out…at a karaoke bar and all,”

I respond, looking in his direction”

Well, what about you? You having something to drink?”

he asks, pulling his keys and wallet out of his pockets to allow

himself to get more comfortable.

“I had one green tea shot. I think I’m gonna get water, though. I haven’t eaten, and I’ll just become a nuisance if I have any more.”

I wave my hand, predicting my downfall in my head with a small smile.

“So then I’ll have one beer.”

He shrugs”

We’ll call it even, but you’re gonna have to let me buy you dinner. You gotta have something, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to…”

I use my words as a way to attempt to stop his advances.

“Yeah, I know. I want to.”

He smiles, temporarily looking at me”

Big difference.”

He raises a brow as he sips his drink.

The big difference is that now I’m going to feel like I need to do something in return, you big, handsome jerk.

My legs levitate to the couch as I get more comfortable and turn to face him.

My lips part to try and fill the empty spots in our small talk, almost choking up before the words nearly pour out. “So you

said you came here before?” I ask”

At first, I thought it was out of character, but I guess I should expect that from you. Being all artsy and everything,”

I mention, pushing myself to speak more.

“You think I’m artsy?”

he prods, moving the corner of his mouth to the side slyly.

“Is that gonna make your head too big? Because I’m also going to say that I may or may not have been thinking things…about you. A lot,”

I say, my stomach turning about from his use of words and the smoothness of his tone.

“Ah—so you missed me. Got it.”

He nods with a short laugh, raising his elbow to the back of the couch.

So what if I did, does he have to rub it in? He’s attentive in a way that makes me want to be the only thing he pays attention to.

He gives me a prolonged look before saying anything else. In return, I can feel my face burning.

“You’re pretty missable yourself. Missed your pretty little face,”

he says, still taking his time to examine how much he is making me a red-faced mess. His fingers reach up from the couch to connect with my chin, his thumb running over my skin. His thumb slowly returns to his other fingers, dragging up the rest of my cheek until his palm perfectly cups around it.

He’s always so warm.

Leaning my face into the warmth slightly, a small breath escapes my lips.

“You gonna sing something, or just stare at me all night?”

I quietly ask, my eyes wandering to his.

“I’m planning on both, actually,”

he says, humming his laughter as his lips connect with my forehead before he stands up to walk over to the TV.

Of course, he’s planning on doing both. I’m still trying to figure out what’s so interesting about my face that he needs to examine it to the depths of every pore.

He grabs the remote, immediately pressing random buttons until he reaches an old R&B playlist. I’m fully expecting him to pick some stupid rap song. Or he’ll simply play whatever he sees and use it as background filler. Do people actually sing in these rooms?

“I’m warning you. I am like a Grammy Award winning singer,”

he says, setting his beer down as he scrolls down to the Alicia Keys section.

“Grammy Award winning, huh? You saying you can out sing Alicia?”

I question him mirthfully.

“That’s right. You’re about to have your little slippers knocked right off.”

He nods, pressing play on the song No One.

With that attitude, I can only assume he’s one hundred percent telling the truth about singing. And I don’t peep an ounce of fear, so he better be good. Or at least be able to hold a note— considering his incessant gassing upon himself.

“This is one of my favorite songs, so make yourself comfort- able,”

he says, launching right into the first verse.

I perch on the edge of the couch, promptly smacked in the face with his voice. His molten eyes shimmer under the purple lighting, exaggerating his contagious beam at me— which unfortunately is enough to make me begin to adore him. As for his singing? It’s the most awful thing I have ever heard in my life, and somehow, he’s making it the best front-row concert that I think I’ve ever been to.

His voice wavers like an adolescent animal, making him completely out of tune with every word. Each note is flailing around like a reluctant moth batting at a porch light, and all

of my stifled laughing is egging him on as he continues to not hold back. Instead of being embarrassed, he throws his head back, delving into the chorus—now really giving me the show of a lifetime. My lips are almost tearing with how hard I’m beginning to smile, and him watching me is making my cheeks tighter. His theatrics make their way over to me as he adds more passion, staring in my face.

It’s endearing to see someone be able to let go, so completely, and be able to embrace carelessness without second-guessing themselves. It’s as if he’s sending warmth throughout me— with a blend of admiration and amusement. This is one of those moments that I always searched for in real life but had been forced to watch through films and encompass through romance literature. Like the fictional men I dream of, he has me suspended in time with his large, brown eyes, making everything around us seem to fade away so that it’s just him, the melody, and the undeniable tension growing between us.

Despite the happiness in his expressions, there’s something so sad within his eyes. Like they’ve seen unspeakable things or have been tormented in their past life. It wasn’t something I noticed the first few times we looked at each other entirely. Now, I can’t help but wonder why that could be for someone who seems to have everything that could make them happy.

To my knowledge, at least.

His face is still planted firmly in front of mine, only his singing has subdued to nothing, and the song is nearing its end.

“You’re really tone deaf, you know,”

I say softly”

Makes sense why you’re a boxer and not a singer.” I grin.

His cheekbones raise as his lip curls to one side”

Rude. I thought I sounded just like the record,”

he says huskily, glancing at my lips.

Suddenly, the control I had over my body feels ripped away by his charisma, yet again. My lips inch closer to his, almost making contact before the door swings open again to stop our moment.

Colton’s hand rests on my thigh as he chooses to sit next to me now, grabbing the remote to turn the music down.

My body starts to feel hollow at the loss of possibly kissing him again.

“Can I put an order in for you two?”

the waitress asks as she enters the room.

He looks at me, raising his brow slightly. “Sushi?”

“Love…”

I hesitantly respond, matching his one-worded offer.

He looks at her, then nods and says, “Can we please get the small variety tray—and some water?”

The waitress nods, jotting down our order before she exits the room. We then look at each other again, but this time he looks concerned more than anything.

“Are you sure you like sushi? Or did you just say that?”

He chuckles nervously.

“I do,”

I nod quickly, “I’m just on this kind of strict diet. Sushi isn’t really a part of it, and that makes this a little bit disobedient of me.”

I look down, immediately embarrassed.

I for sure sound like a freak now.

“C’mon, Noelle, one night? That’s not so bad. You’re itty bitty, anyway. I bet you’ll dance it right off tomorrow.”

He leans forward to grab his drink.

Sweet of him to not think I’m bottom heavy in any sort of way. It only confirms that I have a very skewed way of thinking when it comes to myself.

“I’m kind of a pig when it’s not called for. Especially with

sushi.”

I smile, adding a breathy giggle. He smiles, too, watching me.

“You’re talking to the biggest hog there is, believe me.”

He bites his bottom lip softly with a slow, assuring nod.

“Yeah, right. You’re huge and insanely ripped. That doesn’t back up that claim, at all.”

My giggling turns into laughter.

His smile gets a bit wider as he continues, “I swear. I wasn’t always like this, you know. Back in the day, I could’ve easily won first prize for the biggest boy.”

He chuckles.

“No way…”

I shake my head, looking at his arms, then his face again.

“Way.” He nods”

About three hundred pounds, way.”

“So—what happened?”

I slowly rest my hand on top of his”

Simple. I got sick of feeling humiliated for existing. I wanted

more for myself, and I knew if I just got in shape, I would get exactly that,”

he says, shrugging.

“Do you feel better? Well…did you?”

I allow my fingers to rub his skin softly.

“Physically, I feel amazing,”

he says, sitting back more into the couch.

“What about mentally?”

I challenge him, leaning forward a little.

He looks at me”

That’s a non-factor.”

His smile dulls, but he makes it stick.

My smile was gone already, listening to him dismiss himself like it’s nothing.

I knew it—eyes don’t lie.

“The point is, everyone should treat themselves once in a while.”

He maneuvers his fingers around my hand, giving it a quick squeeze.

Sure, I know that. I guess we both have personal issues we’re

overcoming. As much as I’d like to pry at his thoughts, I’m in no way any better with how I treat myself.

The waitress is back in a few minutes, holding two small trays of a variety of sushi. I don’t have a favorite, rather I just eat any kind as long as I have soy sauce present. It feels good to be able to consume food normally without a man jumping on my back about calorie intakes and portion sizes. I feel like I’m breathing normal air again, and dare I say it, it’s fabulously refreshing. Being around Colton is refreshing. I could watch him do normal things for hours if I were allowed to have him for myself. That’s a scary thought, considering I was opposed to his advances not that long ago.

I guess you can say he’s quite convincing.

Though I find it hard to believe he was ever out of shape, or different than he is now. I would think it takes longer than some years to achieve such statures, but evidently, that’s incorrect, and I am one biased, judgmental woman. How can I not question it if he makes himself so mysterious? I want to investigate his mind further, and maybe I want to be around him for that reason, mainly. Only if he lets me.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,”

Colton says, gripping at his chopsticks as he watches me furiously struggle with the handle placement of mine.

“Sorry?”

I sigh, smiling as if none of my struggling is noticeable.

“If I scared you away, I apologize. I’m being pretty bold,”

he says, taking a slow bite of sushi. He chews it, and I nod, resuming my tense face of concentration as I flop each chopstick around between my fingers.

He steadily looks me up and down for a moment”

Do you need a hand?”

A small chuckle follows his words.

My eyes raise to meet his glance, slowly nodding”

If you wouldn’t mind.”

He sets his sticks down, and his tray as well, wiping off his hands before he takes hold of one of mine.

“I thought you said you liked sushi,”

he says softly, control- ling my fingers so that they fit perfectly around the chopsticks.

“I…I do. I eat them with my fingers,”

I sheepishly admit”

Well, I can show you, okay?”

he says, scooting closer to me,

wrapping his other arm around me, his voice harboring close to my ear.

I don’t know if he was using some fancy magic to lead me, or if his teachings were actually registering in my brain, but in a matter of seconds, a piece of sushi levitates toward my mouth, my fingers finally getting it right.

“Look at you, you’re a pro,”

he praises, watching me chew like a chipmunk, shaking my head left and right.

Come to think of it, he didn’t have to be sorry about anything. He might be reckless in a ring, but he’s gentle when he touches me, and that’s what I’ve longed for.

I can’t believe I walked around this town without knowing this feeling for this long.

“I should apologize, not you,”

I say, finishing my bite as I partially cover my mouth”

I wanted to say something—after getting over my initial fear. I was afraid of the outcome,”

I add, setting my plate down.

His eyes waver over my face, listening to every word.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, and you made me feel some- thing that I’ve been missing.”

His head drops before his words come out”

Daniel…Is it something with him? Should I…back off?”

he asks cautiously.

“No,”

I say, resting my hand on his leg”

If you do, then…I

might never know what it’s like to have a good person around, for once. Other than my roommate.”

I lower my voice”

I don’t miss him, and I would like for him to see me doing better than I ever have, if I’m being honest. It would give me a taste of strength.”

His hand lays over mine.

“He doesn’t instill that sort of fear in me, but I sense he does for you. Why?”

Because he’s big, scary, and running on drugs, Cole.

“Daniel is someone who values control over anything else. I was his object.”

I nod slowly”

When I look back at it, I know that he never loved me. He made me feel stupid, and made my dreams seem criminal.”

Colton’s jaw stiffens at the last sentence, holding my hand tighter.

“You know that’s not true, right? He’s full of shit, in every way.”

“Sure, I know now,”

I agree, quickly, looking at our plates of sushi.

“I’m not a freak in that nature, Noelle. You don’t need to be scared of me.”

His hand raises, brushing under my chin and lifting my head to make me look into his eyes”

But I am pretty sensitive, and I hate it. Good luck with that part.”

His cheek tightens into a half-smile.

“Sensitive is good. Sensitive means you’ll keep being sweet like candy.”

“Sensitive…meaning I can kiss you?”

he whispers, brushing his fingers over the nape of my neck to bring our lips closer together.

Anything to have him touching me like this for a little longer.