half of the dance. How could he, when Justin was writhing and whirling in this guy’s arms? When Justin looked like he’d stepped out of the depths of Wes’s psyche? Like he was Wes’s lust and his pure id made manifest. Wes’s heart pounded, and his fingers dug into the denim over his knees.
Justin danced like a man possessed. This wasn’t a delicate dance. It wasn’t gentle. He was raw, furious in his power, a counterpoint to his elegant partner dressed in white. Justin’s movements were perfect, exacting control balanced on the knife-edge of intensity. When he spun, Wes got dizzy like he’d just twirled the same uncountable number of rotations. Justin tipped out of the spin, bounced off his partner, then tumbled into an easy flip and another spin before arching his spine and lifting one leg, head tipped back.
Wes’s fingernails bit into his jeans so hard he bent one back.
Justin fell into his partner’s arms and the lights snapped off.
The audience cheered, but Wes couldn’t move. Not right away. He had to uncurl his fingers one by one before he could raise his hands and clap. Dizzy, his lungs aching, his vision swimming, he sat back and let the other dancers blur past him until Justin returned for his solo.
This dance was more delicate. The music started slow and dreamy, and Justin’s dancing matched it. Airy, with long, languid moves. But the tempo increased, and the bass started sneaking in, and Justin’s dancing became sharper. Harder. Full of power. He was showing off a different skill set in his solo. Grace. Flexibility. Good God, flexibility. Wes had no idea Justin was that bendy. And then, passion.
Justin ended up in the center of the stage near the end of his dance, as the music was crescendoing. His gaze locked on Wes, suddenly, his eyes spearing through the center of Wes’s soul so intensely Wes reared back.
But no, Justin wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at the emergency exit sign over Wes’s head. Wes figured that out after Justin started a series of spin moves, rising from the flat of his foot to nearly the tips of his toes in a continuous spiral that Wes swore Justin had said was the hardest move in all of Swan Lake. Fouettés, Justin had said, as the black swan had spun and spun and spun. The dancers pick a focal point when they spin, he’d told Wes. They keep their eyes on that point so they don’t lose focus.
Justin ended his solo with a sky-high leap, landed in a lunge, threw his head back, and stared up at the dome overhead. His eyes were scrunched up as agony twisted his face, his arms thrown wide in his final pose. His chest heaved, shoulders rising and falling, and he blinked at the LEDs, their starlight catching the shine of tears at the corners of his painted eyelids. Wes’s heart seized.
Then Justin rose and bowed, his face transformed into a careful smile. The audience roared, the applause thunderous.
Wes stayed frozen in his seat. That hadn’t been dancing. That was something more than dance, more than fancy footwork and clever choreography. Wes didn’t know much about dance, or art, or fine, fancy things, but he knew—knew—that he’d just seen something beyond incredible. Justin had danced his damn heart out. Danced his soul out.
He barely saw the rest of the performance. His mind was replaying Justin’s solo. He remembered all that focused energy, and Justin’s intensity. He remembered it wrapped around him, and over him, and above him. Remembered Justin and him entwined, closer even than Justin’s duet partner had been. Who was that guy, anyway? Jealousy sank through Wes like an oil slick. He’s the guy at Justin’s side. Unlike you.
When the lights came on at the end, the audience rose in a standing ovation, clapping and whistling and cheering. The dancers were in a company line, bowing together, waving and smiling and blowing kisses. Wes, slow to react, slow to stand, spotted Justin as he was taking his third bow.
He saw Justin’s duet partner wind his arm around Justin’s waist. Lean his head against Justin’s, and smile.
“Hey, are you…” A woman’s voice shattered Wes’s concentration. He blinked, and Justin and his partner disappeared, moving off stage and down the hallway the dancers were using as a backstage entrance. He groaned. Glanced at the woman trying to make her way through the planetarium to his side. She was peering at him, squinting, trying to make