"I dance solely for her, and one thing is clear. No matter what happens, I will always do that," I state, even though it's not entirely true. He should think that my dream of dancing is far greater than this academy will ever be. But the truth is, if I get kicked out of here, I don't know how to move forward. One thing I do know is I must never give up.
Never.
"One day, I will dance in the World Championship. My mother will watch me from wherever she is now, and she will smile," I continue, a mix of admiration and sympathy in Maxime's nod. He probably realizes how slim my chances are. It's damn tough for someone my age, still dancing in the lower classes. And it gets even harder with each passing year. His gaze is locked on me. It should make me uncomfortable, but it doesn't. Instead, it makes me feel a little bit stronger.
Now, he walks toward me, the same fiery passion in his eyes as when we first met. "I'm sure she will," he says.
My heartbeat quickens, and I lose control of my breath. Yet I step forward to meet him. There's about three yards between us. We lock eyes.
Two yards.
A longing fills my body.
One yard.
Suddenly, he comes to a halt. "No," he says.
"Why?" I whisper even though I know exactly why. Even if he doesn't want to show it, I'm sure he feels the same magnetic pull that draws us together.
"Your dream is too big to risk," he says, clenching his fists. At that moment, I realize I might not be the only one here with dreams.
"And yours?" I ask, looking into his eyes with intensity. Something is hidden behind that attractive face, I can sense it. "What do you dream of, Maxime Rousseau?"
He swallows hard. "The break is over," he says, exhaling sharply, then turning away.
