Page 70 of With You

We continue through the routine, and I try to do it just as we’ve practiced, to show Amelie the most perfect version of me, the one that I’ll show to everyone tonight. But there’s an ache in my chest, and my entire body feels weak at not being in sync with her anymore. To anyone watching, there’s no doubt that we’re a perfect pair. Our moves flow perfectly, neither of us missing a single beat or step as the music draws to its close.

The climax approaches, Amelie prancing away as I chase after her, Romeo reaching out for his love. My hand wraps around her wrist, and she stops moving, releasing a heavy breath before she turns to face me, her hand resting in mine. We face each other, and while this moment should be full of excitement and anticipation, Romeo and Juliet finally taking that step together to solidify their relationship, it’s the opposite.

There’s a crease between Amelie’s brows, her fingers curled into her side instead of relaxed. She holds her breath, a sheen in her eyes, and as I step closer to her, it wrecks me completely. I place my hands on her waist as she rises en pointe, supporting her weight as her face comes almost level with mine. We’re supposed to kiss now, supposed to perform the part of the routine that everyone looks forward to the most. But when I dip my head to meet hers, I get her cheek instead of her lips, and a shaky exhale that makes me fall apart.

There’s more we’re supposed to do; Amelie is meant to race off stage, and I follow after her seconds later, but instead we stay in that same spot. My hands still on her waist, fingers digging into her sides because I don’t want to let her go. She goes weightless, her body collapsing against mine as the music ends.

My eyes sting as I cling tighter to her, the stage lights lowering until there’s only a faint glow over us. This was our final stage rehearsal, and I’m worried it was our weakest performance, worried that I’ve completely ruined everything for her, for us.

“I hate you so much.” She punches at my chest.

It doesn’t hurt at all, each beat feeling like CPR as she restarts my heart, bringing life back into it just by speaking to me again.

“I know.” I wrap my arms around her, holding her closer to me as she starts to cry.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“My phone died. And by the time I charged it, it was too late.” I run a hand across her back, the other moving up to cup the nape of her neck.

“Not that,” she sniffles before tilting her head up to look at me, her chin digging into my chest. “Your dad’s been bothering you?”

I haven’t told her anything about that. I avoided saying anything that might make her worry I’d mess up the performance, for fear she’d lose trust in me. I didn’t want her to think that anything would get in the way of us dancing together.

“I didn’t want to make it your problem,” I tell her.

“It should be my problem, too,” she says, punching me again.

“Why?” I ask, moving my hand from the back of her neck to cup her cheek, swiping my thumb across it to wipe away the tears that have settled.

“That day in Milan, you said we were partners.”

“Yes, and you said that made us sound like we were on a mission,” I remind her, and she lets out a soft laugh.

“Forget what I said then.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Partners are meant to support each other, bear the heavy things when the other feels too weak to carry it all alone. You should have let me bear it with you, River.”

A heavy sigh escapes me as her hands come to cover my wrists, her thumbs running back and forth across them.

“Next time, if your dad is bothering you, or if there’s anything else going on with you, I want you to tell me. Whatever happens from now on, River, we deal with it together.”

“Okay,” I tell her, a smile finding its way onto my face as one blooms on hers.

She tucks her head under my chin, her arms wrapping around my neck as I press our bodies together, not wanting any space between us.

“I still hate you,” she mumbles into my skin, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Hate you, too,” I tell her, and this time, when she looks up at me and my head dips closer to hers, she doesn’t move away.

After we’ve cleared the stage and changed back into our normal clothes, I take Amelie’s hand in mine as we leave the theatre. We’ll have to be back here in just a few hours, but for now I want to be alone with her.

Our steps are hurried as we go back to my room, every second before the performance tonight feeling precious. Amelie practically drags me along, staying ahead as she guides us there, not a care in the world about who might see us.

She opens my door, and we bundle into the room, my arms instantly wrapping around her so I can hold her close to me, breathe her in, feel every beat of her heart.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

Amelie lets out a small scream and I whip around to see my dad sitting at my desk, his hands over his eyes.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”