The scariest part about it ending is what am I without it? I’ve danced for so long, it’s an identifier. Every time I visit my hometown, everyone from that tiny place asks if I’m still dancing. I’m Avery the dancer to them.
Freckled nose. Dance shoes. Unmedicated ADHD. Avery.
And for a long time, I was okay with that. I loved being the girl that danced, but now, I’m not sure what I love.
There’s a knock on my door, and I pop my head out of the closet. I already know it’s Ty before I invite him in, because who else would it be?
“Come in!” I yell over the doowop music pouring from my speaker. I wait a minute, and when nothing happens, I try again. “Hey, I said come on in!”
I shove my game day attire under my arm and exit the closet. Picking up my phone, I start to text Ty. I open our chat, and my stomach sinks. That’s when I see it. The response I’d typed out but somehow never sent. Then I moved along, went on my so-called date, and completelyforgot. “Soon” is all it says. I quickly delete, my face burning hot from nerves or embarrassment or both.
Me
Tonight
Did you just knock on my door?
A few seconds tick by, and three dots appear.
Ty
Tonight what? And yeah, just needed your opinion
Me
Were you waiting for me to get home?
Ty
Maybe.
His admission makes a fleet of forbidden little butterflies take flight, emboldening me.
Me
Dance lessons tonight? I need something to take the edge off. Got some jitters for my first performance
Ty
You’re gonna dance to take the edge off because you’re nervous… to dance?
Me
It’s either that or repotting all the plants & I have no soil. And I didn’t say I was nervous.
Ty
Come to myroom
I squeal. Audibly. And I’m grateful to be alone with my door closed. Bolting to my feet, I stare at myself in the dresser mirror. I lift an arm, sniff, check the other side, then cup my hand in front of my face and huff out a few times to see how stanky my mouth is. The good news is, it isn’t. From what I can tell. Sucking in a deep breath, I remind myself that being nervous to see Ty is a silly little dumb thing to do. I was just in his room earlier. Sure, maybe he didn’t exactly want me in there then, but now he does. And it’s no big deal.
I start down the hall, singing the slowest Lena Lux song I can think of to help me keep my cool, which is almost nonexistent. Whatever the opposite of cool is—steaming, burning, engulfed in flames—that’s what’s happening inside me right now. Facing Ty’s door, I knock one, two, three times, and wait. Seconds later, he’s pulling it open, staring at me in a suit and glasses like he’s some kind of Clark Kent. If I may speak candidly, I’ve always been more of a Clark girl myself. Glasses are my kryptonite. I don’t give my knees the opportunity to wobble. Instead, I prop myself in his door frame. The wood bites into my elbow and grounds me in the moment before I have a chance to float away.
Sucking in a deep breath, I examine Ty from head to toe. I give myself this liberty because he steps back and extends his arms from side to side like he’s on display. Clearly, this is what he wants. I can take a hint. “You look?—”
“Dumb?”
My brow creases. “No, you look… great! Gotta love a blue power suit.”
