A\N – Another leap in time! I'm just trying not to get you lost in the every-day routine and show the high-lights of Kelly\Harper. Plus right now my goal is to demonstrate their relationship and how they progress to the point when the TV show begins so we could all catch up with the time!

Drop me a line or two – make my day:)

THREE MONTHS LATER

The winters in Chicago are cold: snow, ice, wind. People put on layers of sweaters and scarfs to get themselves a little bit warmer. And although I usually felt very chilly during the season, this winter was something completely different. My heart felt affection and it flattered faster than any other winter before that one of 2011-2012. It sent thrill and warmth all over me…and I trembled every time.

Thinking back on those three blissful months I get the impression that we were living in a bubble where only we, Kelly and Harper, existed: sometimes we took strolls away from it but never quiet left it. The problems outside were either ignored or not acknowledged.

Kelly and I didn't officially live together but a major amount of his stuff was at my apartment. Some of mine were over at his and Leslie's house. After that night in December it was safe to say that our relationships evolved in more ways than one: physical connection made us closer and as the tension ceased we relaxed into our life together.

March was coming to an end and an anxious feeling in my stomach settled. I wasn't sure if it was due to the Blackpool contest Jonathan had coaxed me to agree to participate in but I was feeling sickly nervous.

Jen has always told me that I had a good intuition…unfortunately, she was right.

-\-

"Good morning, grumpy!" I sing-sang as I was moving around the kitchen in one of Kelly's big t-shirts, my feet secure in uggs.

"Morning." He mumbled and I handed him a cup of coffee as he stepped within my reach.

Kelly avidly took several gulps and putting the cup on the kitchen island proceeded to consume me in a tight embrace.

"Ohh, suddenly someone is waky-waky." I teased and my left hand that was not holding a big spoon I had used to mix eggs, cream, cheese and tomatoes, pushed up along the toned muscles of his back.

He planted a soft kiss on my shoulder that was sticking out of his enormous shirt and let me get back to the stove.

"What are you making?" Kelly asked, taking a seat on the other side of the island and pouring two glasses of orange juice from the jug I've taken out of the fridge.

"Omelet! And toasts with fried bacon!"

"What's the occasion?" Kelly jabbed lightheartedly.

"That's it! No bacon for you, mister!" I poked the air with the spoon in his direction as if his massive chest was right on the other end of my kitchen weapon.

"Don't be cranky! Too early for you." He humored. "But seriously. You're not the one to wake up and make breakfasts, usually coffee is your limit."

"Well…" I put his plate with eggs, toast and bacon, salt and paper on the tray and made my way to the kitchen island. "I do feel a little guilty because of all the late-night rehearsals at the Studio that are taking all of my time…and that I come home exhausted."

I put the plate in front of Kelly and came to rest on his right so that his hand would instantly find its way to circle my waist as he looked up at me, holding me closer.

"I promise, I'll tell Jonathan that I need some air and after Blackpool all of this is gonna stop."

"I know it's important for you. And yeah I don't exactly like you spending so much time with this Jonathan guy but…" He left the thought unfinished but I understood what he was saying.

I smiled and kissed him deeply before untangling myself from Kelly and looking pointedly at the food:

"Dig in! I didn't cook all of this for nothing!"

"Aren't you gonna eat?" He asked seeing me pouring some milk into the mug of coffee with the words My Boyfriend is a Firefighter printed on it, a gift from Jen, she thought it was hilarious.

"You know I'm not the greatest eater in the morning."

"You're not an eater at all!" Kelly kept working on his omelet. "All the time that we've been together I don't think I've ever seen you having a normal portion of normal food."

I narrowed my eyes, uneasiness that I tried to conceal, settled in the pit of my stomach:

"I usually have a big lunch to last me the whole day. You and I just don't have lunches together so you're denied the happiness of seeing me devouring on something big and delicious."

"M-hmm…" He mumbled still busy with his breakfast and I realized that the subject thankfully was dropped. But something told me that he wasn't convinced. "This is so-o-o good. Your loss."

"I'm sure!" I swallowed a big gulp of coffee and sighed.

-\-

"I'm tired, Jonathan…" I hanged the towel I've used to put away the sweat from my neck on the chair near the mirror wall.

The man in question straitened his shaulders and looked directly at me, his clear piercing blue eyes boring into mine.

Jonathan Pierce was tall and lean and as any men who've been dancing professionally the better part of their life had exceptionally athletic body. Defined calves and thighs, a long straight torso and lean muscular arms – a physique of a true ballet dancer. And Jonathan embodied it all – the nature and the spirit of ballet – and transformed what he knew into a new form of art – a contemporary dance.

"One more time."

I turned to the wall which was covered in mirrors leading to his eyes following me even with my back to the man.

I inspected myself unintentionally. Black leggings, big grey socks, a black wife-beater and a thin pinkish grey sweater that hung loosely over one shoulder showing a clearly sticking out bone of the said shaulder. I had grey circles under my eyes…that actually matched the color of the sweater so I was not just a mass but a fashionable one. My hair was slightly sticking out from the massy bun on the top of my head to complete the look.

I sighed.

"How did we stand you at the academy?"

Jonathan threw his head back and laughed.

"I knew you all hated me." He said in his reach English accent. "But I made great and wonderful dancers out of the shapeless bodies that you were."

"That you did." I agreed for that was the truth.

"One more time, Harper, and we'll call it a night." His voice was steady and calm and held the authority within it; Jonathan turned to rewind the track on the laptop that was connected to the speakers throughout the room.

I sighed and composed myself. My knee was hurting but I took two steps forward and lay down on the floor in the dimly lit studio and waited for Alexa Goddard's cover for Snow Patrol's "Run" to start playing.

In a contemporary dance one of the most important things is a story that you're telling. Our story was about a woman who decided to commit a suicide and with her last breath she's willing to tell her lover last words. Those words Jonathan converted in a dance. A beautiful very difficult but a breathtaking dance. A confession of a woman to a man.

In that dance it seemed like all the elements took its perfect place in space and time: bodies that contracted and hinged, sudden sinkings and almost instantaneous rises, sashays across a stage. Jonathan's hands were experienced, his posture expressive; and for a moment I let myself get lost in the atmosphere for it reminded me of what I've lost forever: the center stage.

The music came to its last accord as we stopped pace and Jonathan carefully lowered me back to the floor where I was situated at the start of the routine.

Neither of us noticed a pair of grey eyes watching our every move from the darkness of the hall.