Page 41 of With You

“But,” I add, and River perks up, sitting up slightly straighter. “I think we can still enjoy ourselves. Dancing with you has been fun for me, too. And I haven’t felt like that in a long time.”

“How about this?” he says. “Let’s not rush anything. When you’re ready for another date, I’ll be here. When you want to spend time with each other outside of practice, I’ll be here. Anything you want from me, you can have it, Amelie.”

I don’t say anything in response; I just bring his hands up to mine so I can kiss the backs of them and pretend it’s his lips instead.

Chapter 17

River

When we get to the restaurant, we’re shown to a table near a window, giving us a view of the streets of Milan. It’s not a particularly famous place, and there’s more of a homely feel to it, which is what caught my eye last week. The tables are all different shapes and sizes, the chairs don’t match, and the walls are covered with family photos of the different generations that have worked here. Maybe I should have chosen somewhere more fancy for our first date, but this felt like the perfect place.

Amelie takes charge of ordering the food, picking out a few different choices because there’s too many we both want to try. The old gentleman taking our order grins from ear to ear as we list off the dishes we want, nodding agreeably as he writes it all down.

“Would you like to move to a bigger table?” he asks.

“We’re fine here, the window is nice,” I reply with the basic Italian I know.

I’m not fluent in many languages, but I know enough to get by in various different countries, especially European ones.

“I’ll bring them out for you slowly,” he says, tucking his pen behind his ear and taking the menus from us.

“Thank you so much,” Amelie tells him, and he gives her a fatherly smile before leaving.

“When did you learn Italian?” she asks, reaching across the table to fiddle with the cuff of my shirt.

“I never really learned it properly. Kinda just picked it up from being here a lot with my parents,” I explain, lifting my fingers slightly so my knuckles brush against her palm.

“You do the accent well,” Amelie says. “In French, too.”

“That one has come with practice,” I admit. “Never wanted to embarrass myself in front of you during ballet class.”

“In front of me?”

French was one of the first languages I picked up after English due to my parents spending a lot of time in Paris. At first, I settled for the basics, not caring that my heavy Americanised British accent would come out. But when I enrolled in ballet classes and properly met Amelie for the first time, I didn’t want her to hear me speak like that. It’s not something I’d get embarrassed about now. It’s only natural to not have a perfectly fluent accent when you barely know a language, but back then, I wanted to impress her.

“For some reason, younger me was very concerned about what you thought of me,” I confess, as her fingers curl under my cuffs and press against my skin, her palm resting against the back of my hand.

“And what about older you?” She tilts her head to one side, offering me a soft smile.

“Still am.”

“Why?”

I flip my hand underneath hers, intertwining our fingers together on the table.

“Do you know the first time I saw you?” I ask, ready to share something I’ve kept alone in my head for years.

“When you joined my class,” she says, matter-of-factly. It’s a testament to her character that she calls it her class, even when other students were there.

“My parents took me to watch Swan Lake right before I joined. It’s what made me want to learn ballet in the first place. We were in the lobby getting ready to go back in after the interval, and I heard a girl laugh so loud that it grabbed my attention straight away.”

Amelie’s eyes narrow as she thinks back to that moment, before we even knew the other existed.

“I noticed Evie at first, she was jumping around the place, imitating the dancers we’d seen. But then I saw you.”

Something clicks into place for her with that single sentence, and her mouth drops open slightly, as her fingers tighten around mine.

“You were there,” she says, half question, half statement.