“Please. Just… Let me in.”
My voice breaks as the words leave my mouth. “I can’t.”
“You literally can.” She taps the glass over my handle. “Just open up.”
I stare into the floorboard, a sob racking through me as I give in and throw open the door.
“Are you okay?” The panic in her tone as she reaches for me instantly makes me feel bad, but I can’t stop bawling long enough to tell her that I’m actually fine, in theory. “Please, Avery. Just tell me what happened.”
“I’m a mess,” I moan.
“You are not.”
I can’t pick my head up from between my knees. “I definitely am.”
We sit in silence for a beat too long.
“What happened? Why weren’t you at practice?” she finally asks.
I sniff, shift my weight long enough to see just how beautiful the pink in tonight’s waning sunset is. “I got fired from the team. They let me go.”
The last thing I expect from my confession is sympathy. When Larissa wraps both arms around me, pulling me to her chest, it’s a complete shock. If she recoiled or rushed elsewhere, I wouldn’t blame her. Tugging me to her chest is the last thing I’d expect. Neither of us speaks. Shame and confusion fill me, along with a whole lot of embarrassment.
“Do you need to talk about it?” she asks.
For the first time in my life, I don’t. Because I know exactly what will happen if I do. As soon as my mouth opens, I’m going to regurgitate every tiny thing that’s been gnawing at me. But I’ve grown so exhausted of all the secrets. Plus, I assume the team will find out at some point soon anyway. So, as each of the girls’ cars trickles out of the lot one by one, I talk, starting way too early in my story. My childhood. From the ADHD diagnosis to my mother’s insistence I operate solely off of self-sabotage. I unloadeverything.Every secret I kept from allowing my mom’s dreams of me dancing dictate the majority of my life to living with one of the players to developing feelings for said player. I don’t say his name, whether it’s because I think it’ll protect him or because I’m not ready to speak it yet, I’m not sure.
When I finish, I fully expect her to recoil or ridicule me or abandon me. It would be tempting, given how much snot is rolling down my face, but instead, I feel her smooth arm wrap around me and tug me closer. Larissa comforting me as I bawl into my lap on a dusty curb outside the practice facility was not something I saw happening today. Or this year. Or ever.
“I’ve been wondering about all that.” She sighs.
Her words stop me in my tracks, and I sit back, wiping my face. “What?”
“Look, I’m proud of you. Like, so stupid-proud of you I can’t even put it into words. And I hope that’s okay to say because I know I haven’t known you that long, but I don’t care when I met you. You’re one of my best friends.”
“You’re one of my best friends,” I mumble back.
“And I know how hard you’ve worked to make the team, to get your plant business going. You’ve been doinga lot.” She grips my shoulders, turning me to face her. “So please don’t get mad when I say this, but?—”
I wipe my nose on the back of my wrist.
“From what you’ve said—and what I’ve noticed—you seem determined to make sure that you aren’t somewhere long enough to succeed.”
“Yeah, it’s the self-sabotage,” I recite.
She rolls her eyes. “Your mom should have never said that to you. That’s not a thing.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t,” she insists. “It’s an excuse. Not a real thing, Avery. If your heart was in this, I think the outcome would be different. Frankly, I’m a little surprised Judith and Stacey didn’t notice sooner. They usually have a prettygood read on people.” She sighs. “But now, you’re free, Avery.”
I snort. “What? Being fired and being free are not the same thing.”
“Aren’t they? You’re done with dancing, Avery. You have new dreams—ones that are yours. And that’s okay. You love your plants. And the city. And maybe even a certain player…”
An incredulous laugh warbles from my lips.
Her voice softens to a whisper. “Who is it? Is it Ty?” I lift my head enough to meet her eyes, and her lips pinch back a smile. “I freaking knew it.”
