I blink again.
High cheekbones. Straight nose. A jawline that looks as though it’s been chiseled from stone.
Again.
Lips that are almost too full, smiling knowingly.
He’s incomparable.
He always was, but now somehow he’s even more so.
I feel myself blushing. The blood pounds in my ears, and silver stars are dancing in front of my eyes until I remember how to breathe again.
Breathe, Zoe. Breathe.
Jase walks past me without a glance and sits down in an open seat diagonally in front of me. Skye sits down next to him, and he puts his arm on the back of her seat, leans over, and whispers something in her ear.
My stomach cramps, and I feel sick.
“Wonderful. Thank you very much,” Pearson says sarcastically, reminding me where I am and why.
The theater on campus. Our principal’s welcome speech.
Jase is here, but it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I force myself to stop looking at the back of his head and focus on the stage.
It doesn’t matter. It’s over. You can’t change the past. You can only move on.
“Now that everyone is here, I’d like to welcome you to a new school year at the New England School of Ballet.” Pearson spreads his arms in a welcoming gesture and continues, his deep, resonant voice filling the auditorium. “I give the same speech every year, and some of you probably know my words by heart now, but I don’t think it will hurt you to hear them again.” Soft laughter spreads through the rows before he continues. “You’re all here for a specific reason. You love ballet, and you have talent. But you also have foresight. At many public and private ballet schools, the focus is entirely on dance and preparing the students’ bodies for the stage. We have the same goal here, and yet we expect much more. Experience has shown us that only a tiny fraction of all trained ballet dancers ever make it to the professional stage.” The kind smile that now appears on Pearson’s face takes some of the sting out of his words. “But the world of dance is so much more than just the stage, and that’s why you’re here. To prepare yourselves and find out what you were born to do. You are here to learn. But you should also have fun, make friends, and...”
A movement in front of me diverts my attention to a familiar head of blond hair. I can’t help it; it’s like an inner compulsion. I have to look away in order to continue listening, but the rest of Pearson’s speech barely reaches me, as hard as I try to concentrate on his words.
Why did Jase, of all people, have to sit in front of me? Maybehe senses that I’m staring at him because suddenly he turns around, and his eyes meet mine. Direct. Hard. Cold.
My pulse races, and adrenaline shoots through my veins like poison. He stares at me so intensely that for a few seconds, it feels as though we’re totally alone. Everything else blurs, and the sounds around me become undefined white noise.
I can’t interpret the look in his eyes. I’m not sure if it’s anger or indifference or something else entirely. Actually, I don’t even want to know. Because whatever it is, it hurts like hell. My throat suddenly feels constricted. I blink as pressure builds up dangerously behind my eyes.
Don’t cry. There’s no way you’re going to start now, do you understand? There’s absolutely no reason for it!
I fight back the tears and breathe a sigh of relief as Jase turns away again, breaking eye contact as if he were cutting the connection between us.
Except I already did that.
* * *
After Pearson’s speech, which I only caught half of, the whole student body walks into the foyer of the theater. While Pearson was talking about discipline, passion, heart, and soul, a buffet was being set up there. They want us to get to know each other. At one of the standing tables, I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other and try to follow the conversation that Mae is having with two girls who are also new to the school, Kaya and Jessica. They’re nice, but I can hardly focus on the conversation, no matter how hard I try.
My eyes are glued to Jase again. I can’t managenotto look athim. He’s standing next to Skye at a table on the other side of the room, and he seems so indifferent that I wonder if he’d even be here if it weren’t a mandatory event. Probably not.
It’s ridiculous that it upsets me so much to see him. The last time we saw each other was over a year ago. To react to him like this after everything that happened is totally irrational.
So what? Since when are feelings rational?
I ignore the voice in my head. It has no right to talk. At least not about him.
“Do you want something to drink?” Mae’s question brings me back to reality.
I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
