Her Invisible Knight (Book 4)

Six

Mackenzie

Two weeks ago, I was hit by the harshest news that the dance company I had dreamed of getting into since it opened was co-owned by Maverick Knight, the person I hated the most. I couldn’t fathom the idea of how this came about and doubted if it was my talent that got me the spot or something else. I didn’t want to dwell on it, but it got me thinking about a lot of things. For example, how long has he known that I’ve been dancing for the company? Another is, if he was the co-owner, then why haven’t I seen him around since I started becoming a part of the company? Was he hiding from me, the same way I’ve been hiding from him since high school? Just so many questions that I want to know the answers to, but am too afraid to ask.

The scariest part was knowing what I know now didn’t deter me from continuing. If anything, which disgusted me to admit, knowing what I know now sort of gave me the push I needed to become a better dancer. So, even though I was so afraid to bump into him again, I kept going as if nothing happened. Sure, I thought about applying to a different dance company, but then for me, and this is just my opinion, L’art En Danse is the best dance company in LA. So, in other words, I’d rather stick with it and just find ways to avoid Maverick as much as I could. That was the solid plan I had in mind.

I haven’t seen him after the big confession, which somehow allowed me to concentrate on the routines every time we practiced. Once in a while, though, thoughts of us dancing together invade my mind. When that happens, it brings back memories that were both sad and happy. Seeing him in the flesh after all these years and him trying to somehow become friends sort of messed with my mind. Part of me wanted to say we could try, but the other said he’s nothing but trouble that I wouldn’t want to touch even when I'm holding a ten-foot pole. Basically, things could get complicated and it scared the s**t out of me. Do I still hate him? Maybe.

Today was the start of our stage rehearsals before the big show. I do remember setting my alarm early, but I didn’t hear it. Maybe I unconsciously turned it off when it rang or maybe I didn’t actually set it right. The bottom line is that I was running late. I had to pass by the studio to get some of my stuff and I hoped that everyone hadn't left yet, but of course, when I got there, everyone had gone to the theater, and well, I was having a s**t ton of luck finding a cab or an uber, which was funny. I also thought about catching a bus, but it had already left. Simply put, I was really off to a bad start.

I walked back and forth in front of our building as I wracked my brains out for ideas just to get there on time, but I came up empty-handed. Not a single friend could give me a lift either. I threw my hands up into the air and finally decided to wait for the next bus, but before I could go any further, a powerful roar of an engine followed me from behind. Let me tell you, it made me panic a bit. You see, I knew whoever was behind me was slowly following me and because I watch a lot of true crimes on television, well, I get a bit paranoid. Paranoid, as in, I played about a dozen scenarios in my head of how I was going to get kidnapped right now.

“Kenzie!” The man shouted and I didn’t need to turn to check who it was. Judging from the nickname and the baritone voice, I knew instantly that it was Maverick who called. I slowly let out a deep breath as I did a toss-up on whether I should ignore him and just keep walking or if I should stop and see why he called me. “Kenzie,” he once again said as he stopped right beside me. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be at the Orpheum Theatre?” I slowly turned to look at him, readying myself to say something sarcastic just to piss him off, but my breath caught in my throat at the sight of him removing his helmet.

Shit. How can someone look so cool just by doing the most mundane thing? He was on a huge all-black motorcycle, wearing a simple white shirt, a half-open black leather jacket that strained against his muscular forearms, biceps, and chest, tight washed-out jeans, and black combat boots. Again, he just took off his helmet, but his hair still looked so perfect. God, I hate him even more! "Kenzie, you alright?" he asked when I kept my mouth shut and continued to blink at him. "I- yeah. I'm running late," I finally answered. He looked around as if he was waiting for something before turning back to me. "Hop on," he said, and I slowly blinked at him again as if he was speaking another language I couldn't understand.

He then reached down at the side of his bike and pulled out another helmet, handing it to me. "Come on. You don't have much time," he cajoled, and my hands slowly reached out to pull the helmet he was passing towards me. I should really be declining the offer because, well, I haven't been on a motorcycle before, and hopping on would mean that I'd need to hold on to him. I reluctantly stepped forward, still clutching on to the helmet for dear life. When he noticed that a step was all I took, he shook his head, took the helmet back, pulled me closer to him, and actually put the helmet on my head. Once he was done, he gave me an easy grin and offered his hand out to help me.

"You really don't have much of a choice here, you know?" he teased, and I answered with an eye roll because, as much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was right. Lila is big on punctuality, so in order to avoid her wrath, I needed to accept Maverick's offer. I slowly reached out to take hold of his hand and awkwardly swung my leg over to get on the massive motorcycle. Shivers ran down my entire body when his hands found the back of my knees, to guide my foot on top of what looked like short rods sticking out from either side.

"Hold tight cause I'm going to be that asshole," he chuckled. "What do you mean by that asshole?" I squeaked, knowing that whatever was going to happen next would have me screaming in fear. "As in that asshole who will speed up any chance he gets," he answered. And without another word, his motorcycle roared back to life and launched forward. I screamed the life out of me and hugged him tightly from behind, not once opening my eyes as we zipped through traffic as fast as a bullet train.

After a few minutes or so, we finally slowed down and eventually stopped. I was breathing harshly with my forehead glued in between his shoulder blades. I couldn't exactly tell if I peed my pants or if the ride actually had gotten me wet, all I knew was that I didn't have the strength to move. "You good?" Maverick gently asked as he held my hands that were still tightly clutching his abdominals. "Uhuh," I shakily answered as I tried to straighten myself. "Sorry. I had to do that, but look on the bright side, you made it in time," he stated as he helped me to get off and all I could do was nod.

"Th-thanks for the uh... Highway to hell ride," I shrugged, handing back the helmet he lent me and he roared with laughter. The kind of laughter that was actually infectious, so I couldn't help but laugh with him. "Here," I said when he didn't take the helmet back. "Keep it," he answered. "What? Why?" I asked, completely panicking. "You know, for later," he sniggered, and then he was off without a backward glance.