To me, she just points at the plush velvet seats in the middle of the shop. As soon as she’s gone into the back, I exhale. “You just saved my life.”
“I hear that a lot,” Louis responds seriously.
I let out a nervous laugh.
“I’m kidding,” he says. “I don’t solve ballet crises for just anyone.”
I let myself fall back on the soft pink seat and shake my head. “You have no idea how much trouble I was in. Our instructor is super strict. I mean, they all are, but he’s next level. He says things like ‘I will not tolerate anything less than absolute perfection from my students,’ ” I say, mimicking Monsieur Dabrowski’s harsh tone.
Louis sits down next to me with an amused smirk. I should probably take this as a hint and stop talking, but Idon’t.
“I know he’s supposed to be the best of the best,” I continue, stress untwisting my tongue and letting all the words fall out, “but he’s so scary. Seriously, honest-to-God scary. I bet he’s going to say that my leotard is not the right shade of white and then kick me out anyway.”
Louis bites his lip. “You still haven’t told me your name, by the way.”
My face drops. “I’m sorry!”
“Salut,Mademoiselle Sorry.”
My cheeks grow hot for about the tenth time, and Louis laughs. “Mia!Je m’appelleMia.”
“Nice to meet you, Mia.”
I’m about to speak again, but Louis cuts in. “And I haven’t told you mine. I probably should.”
“It’s not Louis?” I ask. It comes out louder than I intended.
He chuckles. “No, I mean my full name. I’m Louis Dabrowski. And yourmaître de ballet,that scary man who’s already giving you nightmares…he’s my father.”
“Oh,” I say, my mouth hanging open. There’s no way to fix this. I mean, unless I just happen to find a time machine, like, right now, but I don’t think that’s a realistic expectation. Unfortunately.
“Yeah,” Louis says with an apologetic look.
I swear he wants to laugh, but I really can’t see what’s funny. Heat crawls up the back of my neck.
Have I just been flirting with the son of the toughest ballet teacher in all of Paris? Oh, Mia, no.Non!I don’t care how cute he is—verycute,socute—that is just not a good idea. Maybe next time don’t jump on the back of a total stranger’s Vespa?
I’ve made so many mistakes already that I’m not sure I’m going to last a whole week. And, let’s be honest, if Monsieur Dabrowski ever finds out what I said about him, I’m going to be on the next flight back to New York faster than I can do asaut de chat.
THESE WERE MOM’Sexact words when I told her about being moved up to level five:
“Hmm, that sounds like a lot of hard work.”
I think it was the “hmm” that really made my heart sink. Like, she couldn’t find a single good thing to say about the fact that I’ve been recognized as one of the top dancers in the entire program.
“I’m probably just stating the obvious,” she added after a while.
“Yep,” I answered curtly.
We were FaceTiming. She was in the kitchen, and there was a baking dish next to her full of brownies just out of the oven. I wanted one. But it was fine. I’m in Paris. I can’t have everything. No one haseverything.
“I’m happy for you, Mia.”
Are you?I wanted to ask. I didn’t, but she must have read it on my face.
“I am. It sounds great. Congratulations.”
“Hmm,” I responded, feeling my throat tighten.
