Just a Number

Disclaimer: I don't own MIOBI.


Summary: What if Sasha never came to The Rock? He was never her coach, and she was never his gymnast. Now all that stands between them is the age gap . . . and the Atlantic Ocean. Not to mention his reputation, the competition, and the fact that everyone seems to have an opinion on how she should feel about him and nobody thinks he's right for her. Nothing between them but age, and well . . . it's just a number anyway, right?


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Just a Number – A Night of Firsts

Ellie Caulkins Opera House – Denver, Colorado

"You know, I have been to a ballet before," Payson told Sasha as they lagged behind the rest of the group together.

"Really?" Sasha replied his tone slightly distracted as he tried to wave off Austin and the others. Austin narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but eventually shrugged and complied, leading the other four into the concert hall.

"My dad used to take me and Becca all the time when I was younger," she told him. "We went to The Nutcracker every Christmas."

"Did you like it?" he asked and returned his full attention to her.

She paused thoughtfully, biting the inside of her cheek and tilting her head to the side. "I only like the part where we got to drink apple cider out of plastic champagne glasses," she finally admitted, smiling sweetly at him as though that would somehow appease him and get her out of their planned activities for the evening. Of course, this was only an amenable option if Sasha would come with her.

"So you're not really a fan of the Ballet?" he surmised and smiled back at her sweetness.

"No," she answered emphatically. "Which is what makes this whole thing with Marty so frustrating," she added tiredly. "He's making me take ballet classes," she explained, "and I can't stand all the girly dipping and twirling and the stupid dance steps. It's just not who I am."

Sasha grimaced at hearing her speak so despairingly about what had really been his idea for her, not Marty's. "Payson, I have a small confession to make," he began sheepishly, guiltily avoiding her eyes.

"A confession?" Payson asked with a hint of mirth, her eyes lighting with intrigue. "Does this have anything to do with the real reason you're in Boulder?"

"In a way . . ." he answered vaguely. "I mean, yes, and well . . . I'm not sure how much you're going to like me once I tell you this," he said discouragingly, "but I guess I don't really have a choice in the matter."

He took a deep breath to steal himself for her response and continued with a pained smile. "The ballet classes were my idea. I told Marty that you should do them."

"Why?" Payson asked, her expression turning cold. Sasha wasn't sure he'd ever seen Payson look at him that way, but he supposed he deserved it. He was, at the end of it all, the one who had forced her into a situation that made her uncomfortable and crumbled what little self-esteem she had when it came to poise and finesse. He wasn't sure he could stand her looking at him like that, not after becoming so accustomed to her laughter and smiles.

He sent her a pleading look and explained himself to the best of his ability, hoping she would understand. "I thought it would be good for you," he told her sincerely, "and I thought it would be good for your gymnastics – that it would help you the same way dancing in the gym helped at Worlds.

"I thought it would help you in the dance elements, and that you'd be able to marry that sort of grace and beauty with the power in your gymnastics," he finished sadly, knowing that he had failed her and pushed too hard.

She shook her head at him, frustrated by his attempts to change not merely who she was, but who she was at as a gymnast – the only part of herself that she felt truly comfortable with. "I'm not that kind of girl, Sasha," she told him adamantly, resisting the urge to simply walk away from him. "My gymnastics is all about strength and power, and I've accepted I'm just not like Kaylie or Lauren who can dance around and flash a smile and everyone will just lap it up because they're so pretty and girly. Grace is just something outside of my repertoire.

"Girls like me aren't cut out for that sort of thing," she insisted sadly, embarrassed by her own limitations. "I'm just not made for grace and beauty – for ballet – and if I can accept it, then so can you."

Sasha looked at her sadly, his expression creased with worry. He took her hand gently and held his breath for fear that she would pull it away from him. "It kills me that you see yourself that way, Payson," he told her seriously and squeezed her hand gently. "I wish you could see what I see. You don't even realize how beautiful you are."

"I'm not beautiful," Payson assured him quickly, turning her head away from him. He shook his head in disagreement, gently cupping her cheek with his free hand and guiding her to face him once again.

"You are," he told her softly as his fingers trailed down her cheek. He leaned down towards her, suddenly closer than he was before – so much so that Payson could feel the heat emanating from his body and his warm breath against her face. "You –"

"Belov!" a voice called in greeting, causing them both to jump back at the sudden intrusion. They both turned to face a small woman – smaller even than Payson – dressed in gaucho pants and a heavy leather jacket, with a baseball cap atop her head.

"Hey," Sasha greeted, pulling her into a quick hug. Payson cringed, trying to bury the twinge of jealousy she felt upon seeing him so close to another woman. She was sure she had no right to feel that way, especially when she had spent so much of her time trying to convince others that she had no interest in anything beyond friendship with Sasha Belov.

"Jayden, it's good to see you," he said warmly. "I was goin' to try catch you after the show, but I'm glad I saw you now. How are you?"

"Good, good," Jayden told him warmly. "How about you? I haven't seen you in ages. How's Howard doin'?"

"Howard is his usual painful self," Sasha answered plainly. "Still thinks that being my manager means he gets to intrude into every aspect of my life and be thanked for it."

"You'll have to tell him I said 'hi'," Jayden laughed. "So who's this?" she said, rounding upon Payson and giving Sasha a knowing look.

"Jayden Delgado," he gestured quickly towards Jayden before turning his attention solely upon Payson, "this is Payson Keeler," he said, his voice low and affectionate.

"Payson Keeler," Jayden repeated with a grin as she offered her hand to Payson. "I knew I recognised you. The Gymnastics Champion, right?" Payson nodded as she accepted Jayden's proffered hand, finding that she quite liked this person despite some initial negative thoughts she might have had with regards to her. Jayden continued, laughing again, "So what are you doing hanging out with this old boy?"

Payson managed a laugh, smiling a little more genuinely as she caught Sasha's annoyed expression. "Lowering my standards, apparently," she replied, sending a teasing smile Sasha's way. "I suppose you could think of it as community service – spending time with the aged."

"Oi, you are cheeky today," Sasha complained in a very British way, poking her arm in retaliation. "No sparkling cider for you now, pisicuţă," he teased. (Little cat/kitten – mocking/teasing endearment for girls).

She eyed him suspiciously, trying to gauge exactly how likely he was to carry out the threat. He still looked perfectly pleasant and polite, but there was a playful twinkle in his eyes that told her he was willing to go through with the threat just to see how she'd take it. She was almost certain he would until he suddenly laughed at her expression and took her hand in his once again.

Jayden smiled knowingly as they turned their attention back to her. "I wish I could stay out here with you guys, but I gotta go back there and start the show," she said apologetically. "Don't want to keep everyone waiting.

"It was really meeting you, Payson," she said genuinely, shaking hands once again.

"You too, Jayden," Payson agreed.

"Hopefully I'll see you both after," Jayden continued and then looked pointedly at Sasha. "I want to talk to you later, Belov, and I'm pretty sure you know what it's about."

Sasha's jaw twitched with the urge to protest but Jayden had already hustled off towards the stage door before he could tell her that she didn't know what she was talking about.

"So Jayden is your friend with the production," Payson concluded. "Is she the stage manager? Is that how you got the tickets?"

He smiled appeasingly but gave nothing away. "Come along, pisicuţă," he said, offering his arm. "I think you might just like this."

"I'd like it better with sparkling cider," she told him playfully. She gave him a pleading look, glancing up at him through her lashes as she threaded her arm through his.

"Maybe," he responded shrewdly, knowing full well he would give in. He doubted there was a man on the planet who could stand to deny her when she was looking so imploring. And if there was, it certainly wasn't him.

Sasha smiled, half-watching the performance and half-watching Payson from the corner of his eye. She looked completely enthralled in what was happening on stage, her expressions matching the emotions projected from below.

He leaned in close – perhaps closer than necessary – and took advantage of a slight lull in the music to explain what they were seeing on stage. "The swan must die in order to be reborn," he said lowly. "It symbolizes the courage it takes to let go of who we think we are and become who we're meant to be."

She pursed her lips and he hoped the change in her expression meant that she had understood the underlying meaning in his words. "She's beautiful," she murmured back quietly, her voice heavy with awe, "and powerful and strong. I've never seen anyone look so graceful and yet so formidable at the same time."

"Do you recognize her?" he asked, giving her a moment to reach the conclusion on her own.

She watched the dancer more carefully, her face registering with recognition and then shock. "It's Jayden," she gaped. "That's Jayden."

"Looks can be deceiving," he responded to her unspoken question, looking smug and satisfied as he leaned back into his chair and Payson leaned forward in her own. He was pretty sure he had just made his breakthrough.


"Well?" Jayden asked, making her way to Sasha as soon as she had gotten back into her usual attire.

"Well what?" Sasha replied distractedly as he watched Payson on the other side of the room chatting eagerly with Emily. He was happy to see her looking so bright and lively, especially after seeing her so self-conscious and so sure of her own limitations outside of the theatre. Now she sparkled with confidence and it was like anything was possible in her smile. This was the Payson he was (conservatively speaking) growing more and more fond of every time he saw her.

"Well what?" Jayden repeated sardonically, rolling her eyes. "Don't pretend like you don't know, Belov. I want to know whether whatever little plan you had to get the girl actually worked."

"This wasn't about getting the girl," he said and turned towards her. "I'm not trying to get the girl."

Jayden gave him a sceptical look, clearly disbelieving of her motives. "How long have we known each other, Belov?" she asked casually.

"About four years."

Jayden nodded. "And how many times have you randomly called me up out of the blue practically begging for tickets to one of my ballets?" she asked him superciliously.

"I see your point," he conceded, "but it's really not about that.

"I was trying to convince her that ballet is not the root of all evil," he explained with a wry smile in response to Jayden's continued disbelieving looks. "Hopefully, seeing you on stage showed her that learning how to perform a fouetté en tournant isn't going to change who she is. That you don't have to be a 'girly-girl' to be a ballerina."

Jayden smiled, taking no offence at the suggestion that she wasn't 'girly' enough for ballet – it was something that she was accustomed to and something that she was quite proud of in her own way. "I'm surprised she hasn't had any instruction," Jayden noted, watching Payson for a moment. "She moves beautifully."

"Only when she doesn't have to think about it," Sasha frowned, "but you're right. I imagine she probably would have been a dancer if she hadn't been a gymnast, so you should count yourself lucky she didn't become your competition," he added with a more playful expression.

Jayden shook her head. "That girl's too good for you, Belov," she told him seriously. "But she is good for you."

Sasha sighed in frustration, wondering why every person he knew had something to say about a relationship he wasn't even in. "I already told you, Jayden, I'm not –"

"And I'm just telling you," she replied, holding her hand up to stop him, "that you shouldn't be so quick to rule it out as an option."

"You should go talk to Payson," he said without acknowledging Jayden's words, changing the subject in the hopes that she would drop it completely. "She'd really like to commend you on your performance."

"Well, you know me," Jayden laughed, primping fauxly, "I can never say no to a fan." She laughed and made her way over to where Emily and Payson were standing, and quickly engaged them in a deep discussion about true beauty and how grace and elegance could come in all shapes and sizes. It was what he was trying to make Payson understand by bringing her here tonight, but he suspected it would be more effective coming from Jayden, who didn't look much like your typical ballerina.

Payson glanced in his direction as Jayden said something that must have struck a particular chord with her, and sent him a tentative smile. He returned it, his own expression gentle and affectionate.

"Who's she?" Austin asked, coolly sliding up next to him and nodding his head towards the three women. There was a slight edge to his tone – an implied threat that his answer better be something at least as platonic as 'my cousin' or there would be hell to pay. It seemed Austin was back to playing big brother to girl who was perfectly capable of looking out for her own interests.

"She's my best friend's ex," Sasha answered with a suppressed eye roll, which was at least as platonic as my sister's friend. "She used to be a principle in London, but she's been with her company in New York for almost two years now."

The other gymnast looked relieved by the revelation, and Sasha shook his head in annoyance. He didn't understand Austin sometimes – one moment he's telling him to back-off or face the consequences, and the next he's hanging around making sure that he didn't have any other girls on the side. The message was contradictory. The only thing that Sasha could garner from his actions was the he wasn't to have Payson Keeler under any circumstances, and that he better stay away from other girls too just in case Austin changed his mind on that point.

"I've been thinking," Austin said suddenly, breaking him out of his mini-rant.

"Anything I should be concerned about?" Sasha replied drolly.

Austin's expression tightened as he flashed the sort of smile you expect after a bad joke. "I just . . . maybe it wouldn't be so bad, you and her," Austin began awkwardly. He'd never really been good at put his feelings into words like that, and the matter was made worse by Sasha's imposing figure beside him looking more frustrated than amused by the attempt to make amends.

"And don't say there's nothing there, Belov," he added quickly before Sasha could begin his well-rehearsed tirade about how he wasn't interested in Payson Keeler and how nothing happened in any of their interactions. "You're not fooling anyone.

"Look, the point is," Austin continued, sensing that Sasha was losing his patience, "that it's Payson's decision, and if you're what she wants, I shouldn't stand in the way of that."

With those last words, understanding dawned on Sasha. "Your girlfriend gave you a dressing down, didn't she?" he guessed, realizing that Austin's sudden need for verbal reconciliation hadn't come off his own bat.

"Lauren Tanner, actually," Austin replied, looking as though he was painfully reliving the experience. "And as much as I hate to admit it, she's right. Payson's a big girl and I've got no right to interfere. And Lauren thinks you guys look cute together and promised to do some pretty disturbing things to me if I didn't keep my nose out of it."

Sasha had to wonder if maybe he had misjudge Lauren Tanner in his first impressions if she could have Austin Tucker shaking in his boots. It took a rather formidable opponent to make Austin do anything against his will, and yet somehow, under Lauren's encouragement, Austin was quite nearly apologizing and backing off completely. In fact, he almost seemed to be giving his blessing.

"I never needed your permission, Austin," he told him coolly. "This doesn't change things."

"Yeah," Austin agreed with a tight smile, "but at least we're square, right?

"And I'll even take Emily home to make up for it," he added almost reluctantly. "Apparently it's the least I could do."


Payson had not stopped talking about the ballet since they left the theatre and began their drive back to Boulder. Her hands flitted around excitedly as she talked almost as though they were re-enacting the performance and she smiled brightly with every word. Sasha couldn't help but share her smile, inserting his own comments when necessary, but mostly letting her do all the talking. He was genuinely pleased to see her looking so happy.

"I'm really glad you enjoyed yourself, Payson," he told her gently as the car pulled up outside her house once again.

"So much," she assured him quietly and held his gaze for a few moments before shyly turning her head away.

He shuddered a little as he stepped out of the car, the cold chill hitting him immediately. "I don't remember it being this cold when we left," he muttered to himself as he quickly circled the car so he could open the door for her. He offered his arm and she laughingly took it while clutching her shawl tight around her shoulders.

"Tonight has been one of the best nights of my life, Sasha," she told him sincerely, stopping in the middle of the garden path.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven for the ballet classes?" he asked her in a tone that was both joking and hopeful.

"Not quite," she replied with a cunning smile, "but you're getting there."

"Well, that's all I could ask for," he answered. Their eyes met once again, and for a few moments they just stood together in the moonlight, trapped in one another's gaze. But moments do not last, and this one was broken as the chill in the air caused Payson to shudder suddenly. Ever the gentleman, Sasha shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

"You don't have to," she told him and moved her hand to remove the jacket. He held it firmly and shook his head. "We're only a few feet from my house," she protested, "I'm sure I can stand the cold for just a few feet."

"No need to find out then," he answered, pulling on her lapels. He glanced up at the sky to avoid her stare, watching the tiny flecks of ice caught in the wind. "It's snowing," he noted as they started to descend, watching as the first flake swayed down and eventually rested itself on the apple of her cheek.

With gentle care – the sort of care you'd expect if one were handling porcelain or fine glass – he brushed the fleck away from her cheek, letting it continue in its descent to the ground. He held his hand to her cheek, and – before his good intentions could have their say – leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

He lingered there for just a second or two, feeling her press back and her lips conform to his, before good sense got the better of him and made him pull away.

"G-good night, Payson," he said quickly as he pulled away and his face flushed with heat.

Payson smiled back, her eyes tentatively meeting his. "Good night, Sasha."

~ to be continued ~

Yay kisses! it's all moving forward, slowly but surely, although don't expect it to be smooth sailing from here on out. Sasha/Payson is all about the drama, and we've got some of that coming right up.


Notes:

Don't forget to check out the girls' dresses in Chapter 8 of the LJ version (linked as homepage on profile). There's also a deleted scene from the next chapter.


Translations:

Pisicuta: little cat/kitten, teasing endearment.