A/N: Oh my goodness, I want to thank all of you for your wonderful reviews and thoughts! I'm thoroughly enjoying them. I wasn't able to get back to all of you, but I'll keep trying!

I sort of forgot to give a tissue warning last chapter, and I apologize. It was a pretty heavy chapter, but I think we should be able to do without the tissues this chapter.

And I won't deny that Mel is acting pretty bratty right now, but keep in mind that the poor kid has lost both her parents, and she's at a very confusing age. Yes, both she and Edward need to learn how to deal with their grief, but maybe there's someone out there who can help them both with that. ;)

Once again, any phrases in Spanish are usually translated right in that sentence or in the following one to make it easier to follow. If you still don't understand, there's a translation at the bottom A/N. Either way, there are very few Spanish phrases anyway, so we should be okay. :)

Betad by my girl, Michelle Renker Rhodes.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer.

Chapter 5 - Questions

BPOV

Alicia Keys croons in the background as I leap across the room.

"Watch those jumps, Isabella! Steady those landings! And damn it, smile!"

My eyes snap shut for just a split second. When I open them back up, I paste a grin on my face, stand, pirouette and kick, pirouette and kick.

"Steady! Steady!" Suddenly, Eli's arms wrap around my hips. "Like this," he murmurs in my ear, his hands guiding my waist the way he wants it to move, pressing into my ribs, fingers digging into my bare skin and then trailing down to my thighs, pulling me against him...

I jerk away hard from him and walk to the stereo to switch it off. "I'm done for the night."

He's quiet, but I can feel his frustration echoing off the wall-to-wall mirrors.

"Really? You're done? Well, if that's how you're going to dance at that audition in a couple of weeks, guess what, Baby? You're so done."

Ouch. Yeah, that hurt, but instead of responding, I pull my hoodie over my head and snatch the keys to the studio off the bench in the corner.

"Do you want me to close up, or do you have your keys?"

"What the hell is your problem tonight, Bella?"

"You are my problem!" I yell, rounding on him. "You had no right to come in here tonight and put your hands on me like that!"

"What? Did I ruin a potential hook-up for you? Really, Nenita, one of your student's parents?" he sneers.

"You're missing the damn point! You have no right to touch me unless we're dancing, and even then-"

"A guy, who can't even pay for a fucking dance class for his kid, that's who you want to move on to next?" he snickers.

"Go to hell, Eli! He and I were discussing his niece's registration, and either way, it's none of your goddamn business!"

He moves in close to me and lifts a hand to my cheek, stroking it. I push it away angrily.

"It's my business because I care about you. I care about who touches you, Isabella."

He gazes at me through those black eyes of his, under perfectly waxed eyebrows. His jet black hair is interspersed with caramel toned highlights he has professionally touched up every four to six weeks. The bit he spikes up in front is all caramel. His clothes are expensive and cut to outline a tight, dancer's body in tight shirts and tight pants.

Once, I found him fascinating: the way he wears a bit of eyeliner under his eyes to darken them even more while adding an air of mystery, the way his nails are always perfectly manicured, not an un-groomed cuticle, not one unnecessary hair on his smooth body. It took me a while to see everything that all that outward beauty hid.

"You care who touches me, Eleazar? Really? You didn't seem to care very much when we were together," I remind him with a wry grin.

"You and I have two very different definitions for caring. That's why you broke up with me, but that doesn't mean I stopped caring. I just want what's best for you, Bellita, in all aspects of your life, personal and professional. That guy doesn't even have good credit. Who deals in cash nowadays?" he chuckles.

"How he pays is none of our business as long as he pays; you didn't have to be an asshole about it."

His features harden. "Fine. You know what? Let's drop the subject of el maricon pelao. We've got more important things to discuss than a broke bastard. You've been off your game for the past couple of weeks, and for you to stand a chance at getting this, you've gotta bring your A game Baby because guess what? That's what all the other try-outs are gonna bring. I'm talking classically trained try-outs from Juilliard and Alvin Ailey, not girls who taught themselves to dance," he mocks. "The only reason they even agreed to audition you was because I put in a good word for you."

I draw in a deep breath and close my eyes, dropping my head in anger and frustration.

"Now if you're not gonna put in some real effort, then just let me know because I'm not wasting my time or risking my rep on someone who doesn't really want this. So tell me, do you still want this?"

"Of course I want this! It's all I've ever wanted."

"Then damn it, act like it! Go put your bag down, and let's get back to it!"

With a long and heavy breath, I open my eyes again, angrily fling my bag to the corner, and return to the middle of the room.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Que Maricon! What an asshole!" Angie hisses the next day when I tell her about Eli's performance in front of my new student's uncle.

She and I are splitting a sub and a brownie behind the counter while we take a half-hour break between classes. Then I've got to teach Competition Jazz, and she's teaching Intermediate Ballet.

"He better hope I don't see him anytime soon! I told you he'd pull some shit like that one of these days!" she growls, sticking her pointer finger in my face. "What did you do? You let Papi Chulo know that Eli's not your man, right?"

"Papi Chulo," or Hot Daddy, is her new name for Edward, Mel's uncle.

I smirk and put my sandwich down, giving her a sidelong glance. "What was I supposed to do? Just come out and say, 'by the way, this here ain't my man'?"

"Hell to the yes!"

"Pfft," I roll my eyes. "Besides, it's not like he gave me much of a chance to fit it into the convo. He and Eli traded a couple of verbal jabs, and then he was out. Threw a parting jab my way before he left too."

"What?" she snaps. "What did he say to you?" She narrows her eyes, her protective streak rearing its head.

I take a bite of my sandwich and chew it methodically before answering. "It's not what he said; it's...the way he looked at me when he said it. He gave me this pretty lewd grin before he left-"

"What's wrong with lewd grins?" she laughs. "They happen to be mi especialidad." She displays a lewd grin in illustration.

I roll my eyes at her sideways. "Yeah, you're good at them, I know. But it's the way he did it, like he was telling me fuck you."

"Again, sounds good to me!"

"Not like that," I scowl. "Like he was calling me out, calling me a whore or something."

"Que? Well fuck him too then! Pendejo, maricon! Asshole! The fucking nerve! He don't know you to be trying to diss you like that!"

I chew on my brownie slowly, savoring every last crumb. I really shouldn't be eating this, but I'm feeling like shit today, and chocolate always makes me feel better.

"I don't know, Angie. Maybe it's written all over my face, and I don't even know it," I say with a hard chuckle. "Maybe I've got this big ole 'W' smack dab on my forehead" – I hold up three fingers in front of my forehead in illustration – "and it's visible to everyone except me."

Angie puts her sandwich down. "Stop it, Bella! Okay? You're not a whore. Look, I know Charlie and Sue raised you really strictly, but you gotta get that shit out of your head. What happened in your past doesn't make you-"

"Bella," Jake leans over the counter and grins widely at me. "I'm gonna borrow your studio for about ten minutes and take my guys in there to show 'em some head spins. Your room's got mirrors all around; it makes it easier to see."

"Sure, that's fine," I tell him. "Hey, Jake, you mind teaching the six-fifteen Jazz class today? Jessica called, and she sounds sick as hell. I was gonna take it over, but I've got a five-thirty tap, and Angie has a-"

"No problem. You know I got you, Bella," Jake grins again, sparkling white teeth shining past that silver lip ring. Then he shoves the rest of my brownie in his mouth, and when I squeal in protest, he rushes off laughing.

"Mm mm," Angie says, shaking her head at his retreating form. "That boy does have a great ass. Too bad Nineteen is a little too young for me. They need to be out of their teenage years before I hit that."

I snicker. "You sound like Becca and the new girl, Mel, with the moaning and leering at Jake."

Angie chuckles. "She's a pretty girl, that Mel. Papi Chulo's got his hands full."

"Yeah, she is," I smile. "And yeah, looks like she's got a bit of fire in her. Had her uncle on his toes last night while they were registering." I chew on my lip thoughtfully, smiling to myself when I remember the sweet way he looked at her, like he couldn't quite figure out how to handle her. The way his green eyes took her in. The way they took me in…

"Bella?"

"What?"

Angie shakes her head and gathers up our garbage. "Man, you are in La La land. Shit, for a guy who turned out to be an asshole, he's sure taking up quite a bit of space in your head today."

I take a drink from my water bottle and then smack my lips together. "No, he's not. Come on, let's get to our classes."

OOOOOOOOOO

Becca and Mel are on time to Wednesday's Hip-Hop class. There's more giggling and whispering with Becca and a couple of other girls she seems to have made friends with, but once class begins, Mel is eager to learn. I do catch them checking out Jake's ass, but they don't bother him, so I let it go.

After class, Mel and Becca are both laughing and fooling around some more in the waiting area. I tug on a strand of her naturally blue-black hair while I rush my comp girls into their next class.

"Miss Bella!" she sings out.

After my comp class, Becca and the rest of the girls are gone, but Mel is still out there. As the last of the comp students trail out for the night and the studio empties, she sits there with her headphones in ears and her eyes closed, her head back, listening to her music.

I shake my head and walk up to Mel, taking a seat next to her before removing her headphones.

"Hey, Miss Bella!" she smiles.

"Hey, Mel. What's going on? Your uncle's late again?"

"He's just got….a few things to do sometimes. He'll be here soon," she shrugs.

"Oh. Well, do you want to come and stretch and practice with me again?"

"Yeah!" she grins.

So we end up in Studio One again. Since we've got this extra unexpected and unplanned one-on-one time together, I teach her a couple of steps she seemed to have some trouble with in Hip Hop class, since she did begin a couple of weeks late. By the time her cell phone starts playing Justin Timberlake's latest hit, she's pop, lock and dropping and two-stepping.

"My uncle's here. Guess I'll see you on Friday!"

I follow her out of the room, admittedly a bit eager to see her uncle and maybe clear up some stuff, but he isn't in the waiting area, and Mel's rushing to the door.

"Wait, wait! Where's your uncle?"

"He says he's waiting for me across the street in the truck. He's in a rush so goodbye, Miss Bella! Bye, Miss Angie!"

I stand by the door and cross my arms across my chest while I watch her cross the street and climb into an old, red Chevy truck. The truck performs a broken u-turn, but right before it speeds away, its driver and I make eye contact.

Edward holds my gaze for about two seconds with no expression of recognition or greeting before moving his eyes front and center again.

Well fuck you too then, Mr. Cullen.

OOOOOOOOOO

This continues for the next couple of weeks.

Mel comes to class Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and on each and every day, her Uncle Edward is about an hour and a half late to pick her up. What's more, he never comes into the studio; rather he texts her and tells her he's outside. I walk her to the door and then watch them drive away. Sometimes he looks my way as they zoom by; sometimes he doesn't.

Mel and I spend those evenings in Studio One dancing and talking and laughing. She's an intriguing kid - high on the sarcasm with eye rolls to the sky galore. She puts on this cool as a cat act, the same one all the young, teenage girls who come to the studio seem to put on, but there's an extra layer to hers; this…sadness about her, in her eyes, in the deep sighs she sometimes takes out of nowhere.

She's also got all this pent up energy. It shows in the way she dances, like she's trying to release something, get something out there, but doesn't know quite how to go about it. So on those evenings when it's just the both of us, I do my best to teach her how it's done; how to express yourself when words fail you. She won't tell me what those words are, but I can only imagine…

Then at other times, she's just your typical twelve-almost-thirteen year old (as she keeps reminding me) pre-teen. She loves ice-cream, she loves Sponge Bob, and she loves One Direction. She hates Justin Bieber. Math is her least favorite subject. She enjoys jazz and tap, but loves Hip Hop best.

What exactly happened to her parents? Why has she been left to the care of a man who can't seem to pick her up on time to save his life? These are things I wonder pretty often, though it's none of my business. I don't dare ask, and like I said, she hasn't volunteered the info.

And since her uncle apparently never plans to step foot in the studio again, I won't very well be finding out from that source.

"What time do you do your homework on the days when you come to dance?" I ask her one night.

"I get some done at home before I come, and then I finish it while I eat something after Uncle Ed picks me up."

"You eat that late?"

She shrugs. "No big deal. I have a bowl of cereal, or he picks me up a burger or something."

"Does he work late?" I ask, not wanting to pry, but come on.

"Sometimes…"

"So he's working right now?"

"No…not really…" - she says vaguely - "he's just got…stuff to do."

OOOOOOOOOO

With my audition getting closer, Eli comes over to practice more often. Sometimes he gets here before Mel gets picked up, sometimes after. On the days when Mel is still with me, I make him wait until she's picked up before he and I start our work. I can tell this pisses him off, but fuck him.

"What the hell's going on?" Eli says one night after Mel's been picked up. "You picking up babysitting on the side?"

I roll my eyes ala Mel and ignore him, spinning around and around.

He stops me mid-spin and holds me up so that I don't lose my balance. "Seriously, what the hell is that all about?"

I wriggle out of his hold. "Her uncle's late to pick her up sometimes, that's all," I shrug.

More like all the time, but I don't say that.

"So you babysit her?"

"She's almost thirteen. It's not exactly baby-sitting."

He stares at me. "I hope you're charging him extra on the nights when he picks her up late. This is a dance school, not a child care service."

"Eli, do you remember when we bought this place, you agreed to be a silent partner? Silent. You told me yourself that you were too busy to help me run the place, so don't try now to tell me how to run it. Besides, I've been doing more than fine on my own. You get a nice cut every month, don't you?"

His nostrils flare, and he opens his mouth, but then closes it back up.

"Just get out there," he finally scowls, jerking his chin to the middle of the dance floor, "and do your thing."

OOOOOOOOOO

The Friday before my audition, Mel, Angie and I are sitting by the counter having dinner because seriously, this kid shouldn't wait 'til past nine for dinner and then have a bowl of cereal or a crappy burger. So I've ordered us food from the Spanish restaurant down the block: white rice, pink beans and steak. It's not as good as my Grandma's in Puerto Rico used to be, but it's decent.

Or maybe more than decent because Mel is scarfing it down like she hasn't seen a real meal in years.

"This is so good," she says. "My aunt makes beans sometimes, but they're not as tasty as these."

"It's the Latin spices. Everything tastes better with some Latin spice in it," Angie assures her proudly, dancing a bit of Salsa in her seat.

I roll my eyes, but at this point, what I'm really wondering is what the hell is going on here. I mean, it's not like Mel is any trouble. If anything, Angie and I enjoy her company, but that's not the point. What if Angie and I have an emergency? What if we can't stay open late one night to accommodate her irresponsible uncle? Will the kid have to wait outside by herself until her uncle is done "taking care of a few things" and comes to pick her up? Of course, I'd never leave Mel or any of my dance kids out on the street, but again, not the point. Right now for example, I really should be practicing, but like I said, Mel shouldn't eat so late.

So when Uncle Edward texts Mel and tells her he's outside, I figure it's time I address these issues.

"Aw man! I'm not done!" she says, shoving a huge forkful in her mouth.

"Relax, Princesa. Don't choke on them beans." I gently ease down her fork. "Let me go tell your uncle that you're eating and you'll be out in a few, okay?"

"Thanks, Miss Bella!" she grins around a mouthful of beans and rice.

Angie walks with me to the door.

"You finally gonna make your move with Papi Chulo?" she whisper-grins.

"No!" I whisper back. "I'm going to make sure that he knows what time this studio closes and that he can't keep picking up Mel so late. And that the kid needs a decent meal once in a while!"

"Okay, and while you're at it, make sure he gets an eyeful of those tetas and that culo."

I scowl at her. "Just keep Mel in here for a few minutes. I don't want her to think that she's a bother to us. He just needs to be a bit more responsible with this kid."

"Alright, Bellita, but don't go off on the fuck-hot contractor before you've gotten a chance to try out his tools, if ya know what I mean," she winks.

I ignore her and make to open the door, but she suddenly tackles me, and her hands fly to my tits, adjusting my top so that my boobs pop out a bit from over the leotard and the top. Then she yanks up the back of my leotard, exposing my ass cheeks.

"What the hell? What are you doing?" I shriek.

"Seriously, either you arrange a date with Papi Chulo, or I will set you up with someone else! You need to get laid, Bella; I am not joking!" she hisses.

I glare at her while I readjust my leotard. "You're friggin' nuts, you know that?"

She waves me off and stretches out an arm, pointing in Edward's direction.

"Just go get yourself a date with that fine-ass man!"

Mel's uncle is leaning into the side of his truck, supporting his arms on the sides while a cigarette dangles from between two fingers. As I approach, I see him take a long, potent drag and then return his arm over the side of the truck. He hangs his head…looking so woefully lost in thought that I've suddenly got an almost overwhelming urge to come up behind him, wrap my arms around his waist and hold him tightly; breathe him in. I fleetingly wonder what his reaction would be if I did just that. Would he twist his body out of my hold? Or would he circle around in my arms, wrap his big, strong hands around my hips, press his callused fingers against my skin and move and sway to the erratic beat dancing in my heart?

I quickly shake that crazy vision out of my head.

Either way, he's so wrapped up in his own head that he doesn't seem to see me coming at all because when he takes another drag and looks up and sees me, he flips around quickly, looking extremely surprised.

"Hey…Edward, was it?"

I miserably regret the stupid act as soon as it's out because of course I remember his name. It's been at the forefront of my mind, along with the image of him, every night before bed for the past couple of weeks.

But I've already said it, and I can't take it back. My heart trips over itself because damn it, he's even finer than those nightly images that have been stuck in my head. Once again, his hair is a mess of paint and spackle and stuff; his face is full of dirt, but the dirt makes those green eyes stand out even more, and that jaw line…Fuck me that jaw line…was it that straight and angular last time I saw him in the studio?

Right now, it's as tightly clenched as my thighs are.

He blows out some smoke just to the side of me.

"Hey…Miss Bella, was it?" he smirks in the darkness. I'm pretty sure I hear sarcasm in his tone.

"Mel's in the middle of eating dinner, so I told her to finish, and I'd let you know."

He just stares at me, and for a second, it looks like he might say something, but then he simply nods. No "Thanks for feeding my niece," no "Thanks for keeping her over an hour past closing time for days now." Nothing, nada, zilch, but a head nod.

"Yeah, 'cuz she mentioned she's just had burgers and cereal lately, so I figured…"

Staring, he takes one more long drag, squinting one of his eyes, and then flicks the cigarette away with his thumb and index finger. I smell smoke and sweat and two-by-fours all mixed together.

"So…how's everything?" I ask.

Alright, so Angie might have a bit of a point. I may not be as much of a badass as I sometimes believe myself to be.

"Everything's good," he nods. His eyes stray from my face, dropping to my chest, my thighs, my legs; but not in the asshole way he did right before leaving the other night. His gaze makes me tingle absolutely everywhere.

Then he meet's my eyes again.

After a pause he asks, "How about you?"

"Not too bad. I'm enjoying the extended summer. It's still pretty warm for late September, isn't it?"

Jesus, Bella, the weather? The fucking weather?

"Yeah, it is. Though working outside all day, I wouldn't mind if it cooled down a bit."

I chuckle quietly. "My dad says the same thing."

He nods.

"Uhm…about the other night…I wanted to apologize-"

"Nothing to apologize for," he says coolly, disconcerting me with the way his green eyes take me in so intensely as if he sees right through me. I hope he doesn't. I seriously hope he doesn't. I suddenly feel nauseous and can't speak.

Edward crosses his arms in front of himself, bulging muscles and veins obviously built through labor. I'm at eye level with his toned chest and have to fight an abrupt urge to reach out and touch.

He sighs. "Tuition's not due yet, is it?"

"What? No, no," I assure him, blinking up to meet his eyes again. "Still got a couple of weeks."

"Okay, good."

He adjusts his long legs and suddenly the space between them widens, and for a second, I think he's inviting me to huddle in there while we discuss whatever it is I came out to discuss with him. He's such a strong presence that I feel petite in front of him, which at a quarter of an inch off five foot seven, I'm really not, especially in these tap shoes. His jeans and t-shirt are just as full of dirt and paint and spackle as he is. His movement saturates the air with his scent. No, it's not cologne like Eli wears every single day of his life; it's the scent of man and hard work. I start feeling almost naked in my black leotard, though I've got on my cut-off Flashdance off the shoulder sweatshirt and legwarmers ala Jennifer Beals in one of my favorite movies ever.

Yet the way his eyes rake over me…I swear he's got x-ray vision right through my skin. I can almost feel his gaze.

"I…uh…actually wanted to speak with you about Mel's pick-up time."

He stares blankly.

"You are aware that her class ends at seven, right?"

He nods slowly, frowning and shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

"Well, the studio usually closes at eight or so, depending on the night."

"Okay," he says slowly.

Seriously, he's going to make me spell it out?

"What I'm saying is that Mel should really be getting picked up before studio closing time."

He narrows his eyes, and my heart pounds in my chest. He's seeing me. He sees what a phony I am, trying to act all proper, all on the up and up when deep inside I'm…

Please don't see what's deep inside. Please, please, please…

"From what Mel's told me, you guys stay open late anyway. She says you dance and practice with her. I was under the impression it was okay..."

"Yes, we're usually open late anyway, cleaning up and taking care of stuff, but officially we're closed. I…she's a great kid, but you understand that I can't be responsible for her beyond her class time, don't you?" I ask carefully, stopping before I say that she needs to be home early to finish her homework and have some real food. I force myself to hold his narrowed gaze despite how my eyes feel like they're crossing.

He uncrosses his arms and kneads the palm of his hand hard under his jaw. I can see the scruff that palm is grazing and can almost feel it against my own skin, on my back…tickling my neck…

My hands clench at my sides as I try to remain focused.

"I'm…sorry…I…" he says, his expression softening. All of a sudden, he looks so vulnerable, so confused, so…lost, like Mel.

And I wait. I anxiously wait to hear what he's going to tell me because it looks like he may just be getting ready to say something life-changing here.

But just as quickly as it was all there, it's all suddenly gone. His chiseled face hardens, making him look like a beautiful, yet impenetrable statue. His gaze moves beyond me, over my head, and he sneers before looking down at me again.

"I apologize. I wasn't aware I was creating such a hardship."

"No, no, no. That's not what I'm-"

"Melody will be picked up right after class from now on. I'll make sure of it."

And without another word, he walks over to the driver's side and opens the car door, sitting back in the driver's seat.

I think I might be staring at him with my mouth hanging open, and then Mel is suddenly at the passenger side door. She opens it and climbs in, yet he continues glaring straight ahead at the windshield.

Mel dips her head, peeking at me through the open window.

"Thanks so much for dinner, Miss Bella. It was slammin'."

"Uhm…you're welcome, Princesa."

And without another glance my way, Mel's uncle turns on the car and drives away.

Well, shit.

A/N: Thoughts?

TRANSLATIONS:

Nenita – Girl

El Maricon pelao – the broke bastard

Que maricon – what an asshole

Mi especialidad – my specialty

Que? – What?

Pendejo – idiot

Maricon – asshole

Princesa – Princess

Tetas and culo – tits and ass

Twitter: PattyRosa817