“You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have danced with me that way in front of everyone.”
Her voice is quiet in the empty studio. It’s risky for her to sneak back after class, and I scan the windows quickly before striding to shut the door. Camillia stands in the center of the studio, her arms wrapped around her middle as her satchel hangs limp off her shoulder. A full day’s dancing has made her skin flushed and dewy, and her poor muscles must ache.
I remember that. The pain of a day’s training.
I miss it badly sometimes, but not right now.
Right now, I’m too busy devouring Camillia with my eyes. Taking in every flushed, trembling inch of her.
“What about alone?”
“Huh?” She blinks, confused. Gives her head a little shake, like she got caught up daydreaming the same way I did.
