She would have preferred a nice greasy pizza.
“After this show? You are totally a large pepperoni pizza,” she said to her salad as she ate once she got to her apartment. “But I’m still having a beer.”
She took a couple long swallows of beer, and sighed in contentment. She smiled at the bottle. “Mmmm. Screw you, Lawrence.”
She looked around her apartment and at the tiny, one-foot-tall Christmas tree sitting on the pass-through between the kitchen and living area.
It was as holiday as this place got, but it was at least something.
She wanted a bigger place, but she’d gone the roommate route before and that had been a disaster. Her lease was up in January, so she’d have to decide whether to try the roommate thing again and opt for a bigger place, or maybe move. She could live with Greta, temporarily, but she and her sister had different temperaments, and while she loved her sister, they could not live together. They’d done that for too many years. Growing up together was one thing. Deliberately sharing living space together? No.
She didn’t think she was cut out for roommates, so maybe she should just consider a move. Hopefully to someplace where the heat actually worked in the winter.
It was freezing in here.
After finishing dinner and her beer, she did dishes, then picked up her phone to check messages.
One from her best friend, Carolina Preston.
Dancing your ass off? Call me. Love you.
She smiled and typed a return text.
Wish ass had been danced off. Could have had the pizza I wanted for dinner. How about U? Saw your label in window when I passed by store on the way home. Want the B&W sweater! Off to take a bath. Call U later.
She sent the text, then headed into her oh-so-tiny bathroom. But at least there was a tub in here, something she’d insisted on before she’d rented the place. Dancers needed a bathtub. They couldn’t survive without a hot soak after a grueling day of rehearsals or after a brutal performance night. And her quickly tightening muscles did not like this cold apartment. A warm bath would definitely help.
She put some lavender bath gel in the tub, set the water to ridiculously scalding, then stripped and settled in with a very loud, “Ahhhh.”
She let the hot water do the trick of relaxing her muscles. When her phone buzzed, she picked it up, thinking it was Carolina replying to her text.
It wasn’t. It was Trick.
Are U naked?
She laughed and shook her head. She hadn’t heard from him since last week, and it was just like old times again.
She typed a return text.
As a matter of fact, I am. I’m in the tub.
It took him only a minute to respond to her text message with, Rough day on the dance floor?
Yeah. Current choreographer is an asshole.
She sent that back, and then her phone buzzed with a call. She punched the button and Trick’s low, deep voice was on the other end.
“So, naked, huh?”
Her nipples hardened at the tone of his voice. “Yes. Unwinding after a tough day. And returning to a cold apartment.”
“Poor baby. And I hate your apartment.”
“I know. That’s why we usually ended up at your fancy Upper West Side place.”
“Yeah, because my heater works.”
She laughed.
“Hey, did your sister get the job?”
She liked that he remembered to ask about Greta. “She did. She’s really excited to be moving here. I can’t wait.”
“That’s great. When is she making the move?”
“She has to give notice at her current job, and pack up her stuff, so not for about a month. But it’ll be awesome to have her so close.”
“I’m sure it will. Family’s important.”
He understood. She also liked that about him.
“So tell me about this new choreographer that has you soaking your sore muscles.”
“He’s a dick. I think he wants stick figures as dancers, so he watches all of us, especially the leads.”
“You got a lead part, huh?”
She told him about the show she was in, and how she’d had to audition seven times for Lawrence before he announced her as one of the leads.
“I’m glad you got the lead, but this guy sounds like a class A douche, Stell.”
“He is, but he’s also a brilliant choreographer.”
“I thought you looked thinner when I saw you last week. When was the last time you had a nice, greasy pizza?”
She groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too long, huh?”
“I was thinking about pizza on the way home, too. But ended up having a salad with grilled chicken.”