FicWad

Chapter 6-

The next day on set was the same as the day before. By the time the director called lunch all of the dancers were exhausted, this time not from filming. The next scene that we were going to shoot, which was going to be next to the band as they carried out the coffin, was to be shot outside and as luck would have it, it was raining. The shoot was still going to go on but now we had to re-choreograph the dance using umbrellas. So the morning was spent reworking the routine.

Now I'm standing at the entrance of the church, less than two feet from Frank, getting ready to dance on slippery, wet steps. Once again, he barely looked at me the entire day. After yesterday I had decided that it was only a week and I was stupid to get so upset over him. He needed a fling for his stay in LA and I just happened to be it. Tomorrow he would go back on tour and I'd never see him again. Which would be completely fine. I don't need him. I don't even know him.

I pushed my thoughts to the side when the director called action and the music began to play. I danced the routine perfectly and since the director was trying to keep the rain in the scene we only had to do it twice. Unfortunately for me, on the second take, as I was stepping off the step my foot slipped and I landed quite painfully on my ankle. I couldn't let it show, though, because the camera was still rolling. I caught back up to the other dancers seamlessly and made my way through the rest of the dance.

When we were finally done, I was in agonizing pain. I could barely put any pressure on my foot, let alone walk one it. One of the male dancers saw that me trying to limp back into the church and he and another dancer came over to my side, helping me inside, using a side door so we wouldn't interrupt the bands last shot. Once I sat down I took my shoe off and I saw my foot was already beginning to swell. Another dancer brought me an icepack and I thanked her, raising my foot on the pew, letting the ice rest on it.

Most of the dancers left to get changed out of their costumes but one girl stayed with me just to make sure I was alright. After fifteen minutes of icing my ankle and talking to the girl, whose name I found out was Emily, I decided I needed to get going. I sat up a bit and looked at my ankle; it was black and blue and swelling. I sighed softly and moved to get off the pew.

“Hey, I don't think you should walk on it yet. It still looks pretty bad.” Emily said standing up.

“No, I'm alright. I need to be getting home anyway.” I said dismissively. I was just happy that I hurt my left ankle instead of my right. I needed to be able to drive.

“Are you sure?” She asked as I began to stand up. I felt her hand on my arm as she moved closer to help me. I just smiled at her, swallowing back my pain.

“I'm fine. Seriously. Thank you so much for your help, though.” I said politely, I really just wanted to get back to my apartment and curl up in a ball. I knew what me hurting my ankle would mean. It would mean that I couldn't dance until it was fixed, and in two weeks I had my competition that I had been training months for. This was the last fucking thing I needed to happen.

Emily eyed me skeptically but nodded before she walked off in the direction of the dressing room. I sighed and followed her slowly, wincing every time I put weight on my left foot. As I was making my way to the dressing room, at turtle speed, I heard the front doors of the church open and all of the band members came bustling in. I groaned to myself and tried to make myself either limp less or walk faster. Both failed and I heard the guys silence and some quiet, angry whispers before I heard someone jogging to me. Suddenly I felt a hand on my back and I turned around to see Frank.

“What happened?” He asked as he slid his hand around to hold my waist securely

“I landed on it wrong. I'm fine.” I spoke quietly. I didn't want his help. He'd been an asshole to me all week. I didn't need some egotistical rock star helping me. I'd be just fine on my own.

And I thoroughly believed that I be fine on my own, before I took a step with my left foot and almost fell to the ground. Fuck! I doubled over in pain and the only thing keeping me off the ground was Frank's arm.

“You're not fine. You need to see a doctor, Jess.” He said after I stood up straight.

“I can't see a doctor, Frank. I'm fine. Can you just help me to the dressing room? I need to get changed.” He just nodded and helped me slowly to the dressing room. The pain in my foot was almost unbearable. Why do these fucking things always happen to me?

Once inside the dressing room, I told Frank that I would be fine from here. He looked at me for a few minutes before he nodded and left me alone to get changed. I changed into my sweats as quickly as possibly and put my costume back on the rack. I tried to put my shoe on my left foot but it was too swollen to go on. Deciding to just walk to my car with one shoe on, I stood up slowly and painfully made my way to the door.

I walked out of the dressing room and was surprised to see Frank standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked up once he heard me and he smiled walking over to me, wrapping his arm around my waist once more. Without a word he started leading me out of the church and to my car. I really didn't want any help from him; I was still really angry at him but I was in a lot of pain. He walked with me slowly until we reached my car and he started to lead me to the passenger side. I stopped and furrowed my eyes at him,

“What are you doing?” He just shrugged and continued to lead my toward the car.

“I'm not going to let you drive like this.” He replied and I once again stopped walking. He sighed and squeezed my hip, “Let's go back to my hotel. You can spend the night so maybe you'll foot will feel better by tomorrow.”

I limped away from him and shook my head. “I'm not going anywhere with you. One nice gesture is not going to make up for the past three days of being an jerk.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“Jess, don't do this. I was just angry.” I raised my eyebrow at him. I didn't do anything to him. I just didn't want to lose my fucking job. I guess he could tell that I was getting more pissed because he quickly added, “Not with you, with the fact that we were going to be apart and I guess I took it out on you. I'm sorry.” He took a step closer to me and I just stayed where I was, mostly because my foot was starting to throb.

“Please come back with me. We'll talk, we'll work this out. I'm sorry.” He took yet another step closer and his hand found mine. I let him lace his fingers in mine and I sighed.

“You better not wreck my car.” A wide smile slowly formed on his face and he leaned forward pressing a light kiss to my cheek.

“I'm a good driver, baby. You just wait and see!” He let go of my hand and wrapped it around my waist again, helping me toward the passenger side of my car. Once he helped me get into my seat he went around the other side of the car and I passed him my keys. He started the car and began the short drive to his hotel, our hands intertwined telling each other everything that needed to be said while our lips stayed silent.

After pulling into a parking spot, Frank got out of the car and made his way around to help me out. We slowly made our way into the hotel and then into the elevator, which we rode up to his floor and down the hall to his room. He opened the door and helped me inside, walking with me to the chair in front of the window.

“Sit here; I'll go get some ice.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the top of my head and made his way out of the room with the ice bucket in hand. I sighed as I sat back against the back of the chair. I let my head rest back against the stiff cushion of the chair, closing my eyes. I was exhausted after the past couple of days. I guess I must have fallen asleep in the few minutes that Frank was gone because when I opened my eyes he was bending in front of me, my leg in his hand with ice wrapped in a towel gently resting on it. I smiled lightly down at him.

“You make it hard for someone to be mad at you.” He looked up when he heard me and smiled broadly.

“Oh I know. Don't you think I know the power of these looks?” He pointed to his face before laughing and gently set my foot on the ground as he stood up, walking to get the other chair from the table. He dragged it so it was now in front of me and he picked my leg up carefully, setting it on the chair. “You need to keep it elevated.”

“I know.” I smiled at him as I watched him sit on the bed. After a few minutes of silence and my eyes shifting away from him, I spoke up, “So, we need to talk.”

He nodded and shifted so he could sit cross-legged. “You're right. We do.” He took a deep breath and let his elbows rest against his knees, resting his chin in his palms. “I was a jerk. I feel like I've known you forever and I really like you. So to me, you asking to not be affectionate toward me on set was another way of telling me that you didn't feel the same. And I know it's stupid because we've only known each other a short while but I want to share you with the world.” During his speech, Frank tilted his head up so he could look into my eyes. He sucked his lip ring into his mouth and I know he's done talking but I can't speak yet. I need to process everything that's being said.

After a few more minutes of silence Frank shifts so his feet are now hanging off the bed and he reaches out for my hand, which I accept. He laces our fingers together, taking our intertwined hands in his other and he looks at me, “I'm sorry, Jess.”

I melt at his apology. I know it's just three words but if you could see the sight in front of my right now, you'd melt too. Frankie is holding onto my hand with both of his, his hazel eyes digging its way through my walls, and his heart showing itself to me, unashamed. This man, this beautiful man, wants me and I can't get my mouth to share the words that need to be shared. My lips won't form correctly to tell him that, yes, I want to be with him. Yes, I want to be shared with the world as long as he's by my side. And even, yes, I love him. I love him. I have to look away from him as I come to the conclusion that what I am feeling is indeed love. I can't look this soul bearing man in front of me, in the eyes. I swallow and slowly detach my hands from him, taking a deep breath. What do I say now? What do I do?

I bit my bottom lip and shove both of my hands in the pouch of my sweatshirt, “I forgive you.” I mumble, still not looking at the man in front of me, fixing my eyes on the molding tracing the floor. The bottom molding is coming apart from the wall, you can see the old green paint peeking through pale brown mold.

“But?” I heard him say just above a whisper. I could still feel his eyes on me, those beautiful, warm, caring eyes.

“I don't know how to do this. This is different from every other relationship I've had.” I admit to him. I can't hold anything back from him.

“Isn't that a good thing?” I saw him from my peripheral vision scooting to the edge of the bed and he placed his hand gently on my bent knee. “Different is good, Jessie.” Jessie. Jessie. No one had called me Jessie since my mom passed away. I swallowed and felt a pain shoot through my heart. The tears made their way to gloss my eyes. I looked over at the clock and saw that it was almost nine at night. I took a deep breath and blinked a few times, letting the tears know that they were not going to fall this time.

“Can you help me to the bed?” I whisper, ignoring Frank's plea for our relationship. I look at him and he nods, standing from the bed to help me stand. He pushed back the covers on the bed and we walk/hobble the short distance to the bed. After helping me under the covers, propping my foot up with a pillow, Frank walks to the bathroom, I assume to get ready for bed. When he returns after a few minutes my assumption is proven true because he's now dressed in pajama pants and a worn out t-shirt. He climbs into the bed and I instinctively shift to get closer to him. He wraps his arm around me and I rest my head on his shoulder, wrapping my own arm around his waist, the blankets brought up just to our hips.

We lay in silence for a few minutes both physically tired from our long day and emotionally tired from the thoughts running through our heads. I need to get things out in the open with him before he leaves tomorrow. He has to know what he's getting himself into, or what he's getting away from. I take in a shaky breath and snuggle closer into Frank.

“My mom died when I was seventeen.” I began, staring blankly at the painting on the wall. “She had Leukemia and she just couldn't beat it. I had watched her fight and lose to the disease. There were moments when I would sit in the chair next to her hospital bed and listen to her talking about what a beautiful and talented dancer I was. What an amazing dancer I was going to be. She told me she couldn't wait until she saw me in the spotlight.” I paused feeling those tears return to my eyes, this time pooling in my bottom lid. “When she died I couldn't dance anymore. I just fell apart. It took me nine months until I could even step foot inside the studio and dance again. But I never got my rhythm back. I was never as good as I was when she was alive.

“My first performance after her death was the hardest. I was doing a jump and I landed funny, making my knee give out, and I fell to the ground hysterically crying. I wasn't really in pain, well physical pain at least. But eventually I got back into the routine of dancing and performing. Don't get my wrong, I still love it but it's not the same without her pep talks before performances.” I took in another shaky breath, my tears falling and fading into the black fabric of Frank's t-shirt.

“The years went on and I was still numb. Then I turned twenty-one. Dancing is a young persons game, you know? You can't do it forever, at least not professionally. So I had always told myself that if I wasn't a professional dancer before I was twenty-one I would quit and just teach it. I went to my last audition a week before the audition for your video. I didn't get a call back.” I paused again, trying to keep my voice level. Frank let his arm run up and down my back as he tipped his head down to kiss the crown of my head.

“It's okay.” I heard him whisper. It's not okay. He needs to hear this.

“After that audition I got home and there was a message on my machine about your audition and I didn't know if I could do it. I didn't know if I'd be strong enough for another let down. For another failure. To not be dancer that my mom wanted me to be. I decided that this would be my absolute last audition, no question about it.” I stopped, my fingers unconsciously tangling in Frank's shirt.

“Then,” He whispered against my head, not pushy, just caring.

“Then I got the job and now I don't know what to do. I thought that maybe it was my one shot and I couldn't do anything to screw it up.”

“Like suck face with guitarist of the band you're working for?” He asks, lightening the mood a bit. Which makes me smile against the warmth of his shoulder.

“Exactly.” I sigh softly. “I wasn't trying to push you away, Frank. I just wanted to give this job my all. I needed to do this for my mother.”

“I understand. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions.” He said softly and I feel his hand cup my chin, tilting it up to look at him. “Jess, I know your mom is so proud of you. She's watching you dance, she's watching you live and she's proud. You're an amazing woman.” He looked into my eyes and I crumble against him. My tears flowing freely and he holds me tight. “You shine, baby. You light up the stage. You've still got it.” He whispers as he presses a tender kiss to my forehead.