He bites my neck, my ear, sucks at my neck, his breath hot with passion. He murmurs something in Italian that sounds like an endearment.
If I could move or speak, I’d ask him what he said, but I’m incapable of anything at the moment.
“You okay, bambina?” He eases out and rolls me to face him.
“Yes,” I whisper, reaching for him because, already, he’s too far away.
Chapter Fourteen
Summer
I scroll through my email on my phone as I sit on a bench between classes. The sun’s out, and the NYU campus glimmers in burnished reds, amber and gold. Fallen leaves decorate the sidewalks and tree wells, their smell evoking fall.
An email pops into my inbox—from Ana Teasedale, my old dance teacher. I wrote her a long email, apologizing for leaving so abruptly and thanking her for the excellent technical base she gave me. I filled her in on the details of my career since I left, ending with my depressing choice to transfer to business school.
I nibble on my lower lip and open the email.
Summer,
It’s nice to hear from you. Why don’t you come and guest teach for the Contemporary III class this week?
That’s it. Short and to the point.
So is this an audition for teaching more? Or just a one-time deal? The flutters of excitement surprise me. The contemporary III class is her advanced high school class. Teaching teens would be fun. I’d have no trouble giving the girls a class they’d love. Hopefully they’d beg Ana to have me back, and I’d have a job. Not that teaching one or two classes a week would pay my bills, but at least I’d be back to dancing—doing what I loved. Choreographing, even, which I’ve always wanted to do but was too intimidated to try in a professional setting. At my home dance studio, though, it would be easy. They’d need recital pieces, and I wouldn’t need to worry about my professors or colleagues showing up and criticizing.
The more I think about it, the more I really hope this gig will work out. Even if I stay in business school and slowly kill my soul. At least I’d have this one creative outlet.
My phone rings, and Maggie’s picture appears on the screen.
“Hey girl.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Nothing, just sitting on campus, killing time between classes. How about you?”
“Well, it’s Pete’s birthday this weekend, so I’m throwing him a party. Saturday at eight at our place.”
“Oh.” Pete’s friends with John, which means he’ll be there. In the close confines of their apartment.
“Come on, Summer. Don’t be a chicken.”
Of course, Maggie knows why I’m hesitating.
“Why don’t you bring Carlo?”
Something in my solar plexus tightens. Bring Carlo? To Maggie and Pete’s? That’s like throwing a boxer on stage with ballerinas. Just...too different. Carlo looks mafia. He has danger written all over him. He dresses in fine Italian suits, and he carries a gun most of the time, as far as I can tell.
Anyone who hasn’t guessed my family is Family with a capital “F” would get it when they saw me with him.
“I don’t know, Maggie...I’m not sure how he’d mix.”
“Oh, come on, what’s the big deal? He’s totally hot, and he has great manners. He’d get along fine.”
I’m not sure if I can handle my worlds colliding that way. The two separate sides of me crashing together. Then again, maybe me showing up with a hot, attentive man would show John what he gave up. I would love for him to realize what a mistake he made.
As if Maggie could follow my thoughts, she says, “It would burn John up to see you with a new sexy man. Make him sorry he lost you.”
“I know. It’s tempting. But John knows Carlo. They’ve met at the few family dinners I brought him to. What if he thinks I’m dragging a cousin in and pretending to date him? That’s a humiliating thought.”
Maggie snorts. “You’ll just have to make sure you’re very un-cousinly with him. Somehow, I doubt that will be a problem.”
I smile, remembering the crazy sex we had last night. Nope. Not a problem at all.
“Summer...I miss you. The whole gang misses you. Pete really wants you to come to the party. He asked specifically. He always asks how you’re doing. Everyone does.”
I sigh. “Okay, I’ll ask Carlo.” As soon as I said it, a wave of anxiety rushes over me. I don’t know if I can stand to see John again.
“Awesome. I’m so glad. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Well, I didn’t say I’d be there for sure.”
“Please, Summer?”
“You’re not taking no for an answer, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, I’ll figure it out. I’ll be there. Just don’t be mad if I don’t stay too long.”
“I won’t. Don’t worry, it will be fine. You need to get over John. Pretend it never happened. He can’t hurt you unless you let him.”