They all bowed their heads and murmured apologies as they disappeared back into the dance studio. The only people that remained were me—obviously—and Bianca—surprisingly. She never missed a moment of practice.
“Ms. Boucher, I really must protest. I mean, what if one of them drops us?” Bianca eyed Ryan who ran his hands through his hair and was leering at her in an obnoxious,I don’t care about the worldkind of way. It was intriguing, albeit a tad cliché.
But it made Bianca balk, and I knew right then and there, we were going to be friends.
“Why don’t you come over here andwe’ll test it out,” Ryan said.
Bianca’s cheeks reddened as she cast asee what I meanlook in Mom’s direction.
Mom nodded. “Your objection is noted.” She waved her hand in the studio’s direction. “Now go practice. Your grand jeté needs work.”
Bianca’s lips parted and I could see how my mom’s words crushed her. For a moment, I allowed myself to feel bad for her but then I remembered her taunt a minute ago about me and my weight, and that feeling magically melted into indifference.
Once we were Bianca-less, I glanced over at the team. Mom was assessing them in a way that made my skin crawl. I knew what it was like, having Mom stare at you. Judge you.
She sighed and waggled her fingers in their direction. “Come with me. I’ll show you where you can change,” she said as she started down the hall.
Everyone began to file after her. I stayed back, hugging my notebook to my chest and watching them leave. This was a major turn of events for me. Up until now, I’d lived a pretty boring life.
My job was to clean the studio. I was my very own Cinderella. At least, that was who I became as soon as the scale rose to the upper hundreds. That’s when Mom suggested that maybe I would be happier on the sidelines. That I’d be happier if I didn’t have to climb into a leotard every day.
That’s when I was pretty sure I’d broken my ownmother’s heart. Any last hope she’d had that I’d fulfill her dream of being a perfect, ballerina daughter? It was officially gone.
I leaned against the wall and tipped my face toward the ceiling. I hated the tears that formed every time I allowed myself to think about ballet or Mom. I hated that I still wanted to dance. That it filled my soul and wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Get a grip,” I growled as I angrily wiped at my cheeks.
“Um…” a familiar voice drew my gaze over.
I glowered at Ethan as he stood awkwardly in front of me. He had his hands shoved into the front pockets of his pants and his ridiculously perfect brown hair had fallen across his forehead.
Of course he was perfect. His hair, shoes, even his exercise clothes. I hated his ridiculously perfect body he was so obviouslynottrying to hide underneath his white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He didn’t look like he even knew what “pinch an inch” meant and he most definitely did not have nightmares about it.
“What?” I asked, frustrated that I’d let my guard down. That this stranger had seen this part of me. Collette Boucher was the snarky, funny one. She wasn’t the one who cried about her relationship with her mother or her weight.
“I, um…” He furrowed his brow as he stared at me. I widened my eyes as if that would hurry him along.
“I’m just making sure you’re okay. I’ve been known to do some damage with my tackle.”
I wasn’t sure, but I felt as if he purposely flexed his pecks when he said that.
I snorted. “Seriously?” I slipped my notebook into my backpack and swung it onto my shoulder. I brushed my shoulder like I was flicking away a fly. “I barely felt you,” I said.
Truth was, I was pretty sure he’d bruised my ribs, but I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. This guy didn’t seem like he needed any help in the ego department.
“Are you sure? I mean, sometimes you don’t know you’re hurt because of the adrenaline and blood rushing to the injury.” He stepped forward and reached out to touch me.
Fear coursed through me and I flinched as I pulled away. I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want him to know exactly what I was hiding underneath this hoodie.
Ethan’s eyes widened as he snapped his hand back. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t going to…” He pushed his hands through his hair as regret showed on his face.
I shot him a smile. “It’s fine. I’m just not used to random guys touching me.” I pushed the strap of my backpack higher up onto my shoulder and sidestepped him. “I should get going. Mom’s waiting and she wouldn’t be happy if I distracted you.” It’s a lame excuse but the only thing I can think of in a moment’s notice.
Truth was, I had every intention of hiding out inMom’s office until this little practice was over. There was no way I wanted to spend my afternoon staring at Ethan as he bumbled his way through the different choreography.
It was a little insulting that Mom would take on these football players when she literally banned me from doing barre. That somehow, I was a disgrace to the art form that was ballet and these huge, man-hulks were just what she was looking for.
I ducked my head as I made a beeline for Mom’s office door when Ethan’s voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned to see him staring after me.
