Without another word, I went on. But I couldn’t get those words out of my head. I think I might love you. Just like that he’d said it. Even with an ‘I think I might’ before those two words, shouldn’t there be some buildup to it? Some big dramatic moment? Then again, this wasn’t a movie. And he must have said it to get a reaction out of me. If he had, it was working.
What was worse was how I felt happy. After this morning… after the last couple of mornings, I was sure I wasn’t meant to be with anyone. But I wanted to be. I could accept that much now. I wanted to get myself together on my own, and maybe I wouldn’t be that broken girl anymore.
“Theo,” I said, not looking at him. “After the gala ask me out again.”
“And why should I do that?”
“Because you think you might love me.” I grinned. “And I’ll be one step closer to being a better me.” I took off.
“Felicity!” He chased after me, and I laughed.
I want to be better.
1:04 p.m.
“Again, Felicity. I need you to get up higher. Greg, you need to speed up. You were half a second late. Christina, you look lost, which is odd because you’re doing fine. Dwight, lift Melrose higher on the turn.” Walt shouted instructions as we danced on stage.
I was dripping sweat, and my feet and thighs burned but in a good way. I remembered this feeling, and I hadn’t even realized I had missed it so much. Some things came naturally, like twirling, spins, and lifts, but the jumping—my body felt so much heavier than I remembered from when I was a teenager.
“Five minutes, guys. Catch your breath, then we run on from the top,” Walt yelled, moving over to the group of dancers.
I wanted to fall to the ground and just stay there. However, the only choice I had was to stretch, staring out at the empty seats in the audience. One, because the other dancers didn’t like me. They didn’t say it, but they kept their distance. I could live with that. Two, because if I fell to the floor, there was no way I could get back up. Walt had gone through everything on the first day. Seeing all the seats had made me sick and nervous. I didn’t know if I could do this.
Breathe. Felicity, you got this. You are new to dancing—
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
We all turned to find Violet, who was holding on to her cane, her leg in a brace, glowering at us. She had cut her hair shorter and dyed it lighter too.
“Violet, you shouldn’t be here—”
“It’s bad enough I can’t be on the stage, but you replace me with her!” she screamed at Walt while pointing at me. “Thousands of dancers in this state, and you chose a former waitress. How dare you insult me like this.”
I noticed that more than a few of the other dancers didn’t disagree with her. They scowled at me, shaking their heads.
I knew that look. I saw it in my nightmares.
Theo
I think I might love her. It was all I could think about the last couple of days. Watching her practice. Seeing her laugh and smile, spending hours upon hours pushing herself. I was happy for her and torn at the same time, because I wanted us to go back to Ambler, North Carolina. I wanted to spend more time with her. So this morning I had told Walt not to run with her, that I would go. And I would have been fine just being beside her. Even if she hadn’t said one word, I would have been okay, but I blurted it out: I think I might love you. Once it was out, there was no backtracking. There was nothing I could do but accept what I had said. Seeing her wrestle with it for a moment and then ask for a date, well, that was something even I couldn’t have foreseen.
“Why are you smiling?” Tori asked when I entered the gala venue. The staff was a
lready putting up the banners, changing out the lights. Everything was supposed to be white, gold, and black for the evening.
“I’m not smiling. This place still has a ways to go before Sunday,” I muttered. Every year our annual fundraising gala was held to raise money for the arts. However, it soon became somewhat of fashion show event for celebrities since all of our clients came. The red carpet was madness, everyone dressing up in some sort of costume for the cameras. The number of artists and actresses on stage had been capped at twenty-five this year.
“Well, we kind of have a problem,” Tori muttered.
“What kind of problem?”
“Nothing major. Everything is going according to plan—”
“But?”
“Violet’s here.”
Sighing, I followed her into the stage hall. I should have known Violet wouldn’t be able to let this go. If she couldn’t dance, then she was going to want to control everything else. It was who she was.