Junie nodded, always up for a challenge. Just like her mom.
“Very good,” Demi said. “We’re going to try an airplane pose next.”
Without missing a beat, she shifted—her lifted leg extending back, torso tilting forward until her body formed a perfect line, arms outstretched like wings. She didn’t waver. Not once.
There was a reason they used to call her the Flame. Commentators said she didn’t just compete—she ignited the floor. And right now, she was igniting something inside me. Something I knew I should extinguish. But didn’t want to.
Junie clapped enthusiastically. “You’re so good! You do it, Daddy!”
I was about to decline—this was her lesson, not mine—but Demi, still perfectly poised, flashed me a smirk. The kind that said,Are you chicken?
Never one to back down, I stepped into position. Not as graceful. Definitely not as steady. But passable—if I say so myself.
And then I realized: I was face-to-face with Demi. Close enough to feel her breath—warm, sweet—brush across my cheek.
Her eyes met mine.
“Um . . . hi,” she whispered.
And just like that, the ground beneath me felt a little less stable. I stared at her lips, wanting to capture them. The need to know how she tasted consumed me—a foolish, reckless impulse. Before I could act on it, something shoved me. I swore it. A force—not wind, not gravity—sent me tumbling forward.
I wrapped my arms around her, trying to cushion the fall, but it felt more like a tackle than a rescue. We landed on the blanket, tangled in limbs and breath and heat. Her body pressed against mine—lithe, warm, bare in places that made my pulse stutter.
“Damn, I’m sorry,” I said, breathless. “It felt like someone gave me a shove.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. She just . . . stilled and settled. But her brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head slowly. “I was just thinking . . . we keep getting thrown together. Maybe there’s a reason. A reasonbesides . . . you know . . .” She shut her eyes tight. “Never mind.”
My hold on her strengthened, fingers daring to press into her skin. I wanted her to finish that thought. Needed her to. Even if it was foolish. Even if it was dangerous. Her goddess life and her heart were on the line. I didn’t take that lightly.
But maybe she was right.
Maybe there was more to this.
To us.
But . . . as hard as I tried, even at that very moment, there was no breaking into her heart. Was it possible that eventually any part of me could?
What was I even thinking? She was a cast member on my show. And I’d known her for years — years filled with nothing but hate between us. I’d take the blame for that.
And I was a Cupid. Wouldn’t I know if she were my true love? Wouldn’t she?
“Are you guys going to get up?” Junie asked, snapping me back to reality. The bubble that seemed to appear when I was with Demi lately popped.
Demi untangled herself from me with practiced speed. She stood, brushed off her legs, and wrapped Junie in a hug.
“Well, that was fun,” she said, voice light, almost musical. “Thanks for lunch.” She kissed Junie’s cheek. “It was good to see you again. Next time, make sure you ask your grandma or dad—or call Lady Goldy, and I’ll know.” Then, like a soprano hitting her final note, she added, “See you both later.”
And jogged off.
Before I could catch her.
Before I could ask what she meant.
Before I could say anything at all.
