When I see Zoe reach for the hem of her sweater and pull it off over her head, I’m almost relieved. She’s wearing a black leotard under her sweater that contrasts with her pale skin, and even though I’ve already seen her in leotards a thousand times backwhen Caleb and I were friends, this is different. The thin material is clinging to her slender body because of the rain. I don’t want to look, but I can’t help it, and then I remember why we’re here. I remember why Zoe needs this extra practice, and I feel like the biggest asshole in the world.
I only look at her again when she clears her throat. Her wet clothes are lying a few steps away on the floor. Now she’s wearing soft sweatpants and a cropped hoodie that would end at her navel, if she weren’t still wearing the wet leotard underneath it.
It does something to me to see her that way. With messy hair and not anywhere near as tidy as she always is in class, when all the girls wear their white tights and black leotards and have their hair in smooth buns. Now there’s no sign of her perfectionism.
I can’t help the fact that all at once I’m not cold anymore, and my heart might be beating just a little bit faster.
“And now?” she says. Her voice sounds different than usual. “What kind of extra practice did you have in mind?”
Fair question. I have no fucking idea.
Chapter 18
Zoe
Thank you for following me after the prom. That really meant a lot to me, and I don’t care that you’re probably rolling your eyes now because you think it’s cheesy and stupid. It’s my secret, so shut up and don’t complain.
—P
Jase stares at me silently, and I can only stare back, because my ability to think coherently went up in smoke as soon as he took off his wet sweatshirt. He’s not wearing a T-shirt. It’s a miracle that I could put together a single, more or less reasonable sentence in the last few minutes. Some part of my brain seems to be working after all. I’m not so sure about the rest of me.
Jase is slender and strong, like all dancers, with long muscles, a six-pack, and those V-shaped muscles on his hips that just beg to be touched. He’s beautiful, but that’s nothing new. What’s new is getting to see him this way, and I get all warm and soft inside. There’s nothing I can say in my defense. This whole situation is absurd.
We shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what got into me when I interrupted the conversation with his mother. It was totally rude ofme, and I shouldn’t have done it. I had been about to go to the gym because I neglected my weight training this week. Then I heard their voices and heard what they were talking about. They were practically standing in front of my door, after all. I could hear every word, and I couldn’t just stop listening, turn away, and pretend I hadn’t heard anything.
It was the tone of Jase’s voice that made me want to help him. I heard the anger and pain that his mother didn’t seem to register. It was his voice that made me forget to bring my jacket and an umbrella. I was too distracted. I still am. Because now we’re in this tiny studio, and he’s not even wearing a damn T-shirt.
“Since you’re the one who has a problem, I thought you might have a plan,” he says sharply, reminding me that I asked.
I blush and pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my hands. “I... um... No. I don’t have a plan. I’m pretty disorganized.” God, what am I saying?
“I guess that figures.” He sighs and runs a hand through his damp blond hair, and once again, all I can do is stare and watch the movement of his muscles.
My stomach begins to flutter, and I don’t know why. Nerves? Excitement? Fear? No clue. It’s all wrong. I shouldn’t look at him this way. I shouldn’t be alone with him here in the first place. But I am, and I can’t help staring either.
“Okay,” he says, taking a step toward me. “I would suggest that we go through Francesca’s routine again, but I’m not sure that will make any difference.”
I just nod, because he’s right. It will make no difference at all. His brow creases, and I want to reach out and smooth it. What the hell is going on with me?
“You have a hard time being touched, right?” he asks carefully, and I’m glad that he says it and I don’t have to.
“Yeah,” I whisper, hoping he doesn’t ask why. With our notes, the rules are clear, but this is totally different. Obviously.
“Only when you’re dancing, or also... like this?” He takes another step closer, and my stomach cramps. My body is always working against me.
“Always.” I can barely get the words out. I don’t want to admit it, but there’s no other way we’re going to make progress.
His eyes widen in surprise, and I think I see worry shining in them. But the expression disappears immediately. I must have been mistaken. “Always?”
I nod. It doesn’t matter that everything was different two weeks ago. Then, at least, I felt halfway normal. I should probably hang out with Caleb or go see my parents, find out if I have the same reaction with them too. But every time Mom has called me in the last few days, trying to convince me to go out to eat with her, I tell her I’m too busy with classes. The thought that my body might betray me even with my own family scares me. As long as I don’t see them, as long as no one tries to hug me, I can at least pretend that my problem isn’t as huge as I’m afraid it is.
“Then basically, it’s easy. We don’t have to practice dancing—just touching.”
I have to laugh, but it’s not a happy one. Jase’s suggestion might sound easy, but actually doing it... It will be anything but easy.
“How exactly do you plan to do that?” I’ve barely finished asking when he reaches out a hand to me.
“At first, just like this.”
