I’m still caged. I’m still sneaking out. My dream is still hanging in the balance.
It’s difficult though. To not wonder about things.
Especially when one day, I get an email from my old ballet teacher, and I mention it to Reed while he drives me to the studio that very night.
“So,” I say, glancing over at him. “I got a very interesting email today. Would you like to hear about it, Reed?”
“Do I have a choice, Fae?” he asks mockingly, without looking away from the road.
I narrow my eyes at him and I know he can’t see it but his lips twitch in amusement anyway.
“It was from my old ballet teacher,” I tell him and his fingers tighten on the wheel. “Apparently, she’s super guilty about kicking me out. She apologized about it.Andin order to make up for her mistake, she will give me a recommendation letter. Not only that, she also put me in touch with one of the faculty members at Juilliard who also happens to be on the admissions committee. Juilliard, Reed. My dream school. Out of the blue, Miss Petrova decides to help me out because she thinks it might help me with my application.Out of the blue. Two years later. Can you believe that? How interesting, isn’t it?”
Reed shrugs all casually. “Itisinteresting.”
“Right?”
“Yeah, it’s interesting how you find completely uninteresting things, interesting.”
I fist my hands in my lap. “You did this.”
“Did what?”
“You made her do this, didn’t you? Youforcedher to send that email.”
“I wouldn’t call it force,” he replies, still keeping his eyes on the road.
I turn toward him then. “Oh my God, you did. Did youblackmailher, Reed?”
At this, he glances over at me, his wolf eyes all cool and pretty. “What do you think I am, Fae? A villain.”
“Yes. And you do that. You blackmail people. You lie to them. You use them. That’s what you do.”
His jaw clenches for a long second before he says, “I didn’t blackmail. I didn’t have to. I asked her nicely and she agreed.”
“But you —”
“Look, she had no right to kick you out, understand? What you do on your time is your fucking business. And besides, it was her loss. She lost the best ballerina she ever had or will ever have. So I just showed her the light.”
And then I have to grit my teeth and curl my toes.
I have to keep sitting in his Mustang, all still, as if nothing happened, as if he didn’t pay me a compliment and as if my stupid heart isn’t spinning in my chest.
But then the next week he comes to pick me up, things get even worse.
Because there’s something waiting for me in his Mustang.
A pale pink box with a pink satin ribbon around it.
I don’t have to open the box to know what’s inside of it.
I stare at it with my throat tight, holding on to the open door of his car. “I don’t eat those.”
From the corner of my eye, I see his chest move sharply. “Why’s that?”
I swallow, glancing at him. “Because I don’t. Because I’m a dancer and I need to watch my weight.”
His own hand on the door flexes. “I can still carry you with one hand. So I think you’re fine.”
