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“What took you so long?” he says into his phone. Then he ends the call and slips it into the pocket of his sweatpants, pulling me into the hallway. His lips meet mine demandingly, and a rush of heat floods my body.

“Hi,” I murmur against his mouth.

“Hi,” he whispers, and we both have to smile. For a moment, I forget why I came and why I couldn’t stand being alone in my bed, even after I wrote everything down and burned the note. That always helped me before. Except lately, talking to him helps even more, and that’s more than a little worrying. At the same time, it also feels very right. I’m confused.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his fingers intertwining with mine.

I take a deep breath, my stomach tightens, and the rush of heat disappears. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“And I thought you missed me,” he says playfully, but the teasing undertone in his voice can’t hide the watchful expression in his eyes. He leads me into the apartment, straight into the bedroom. It smells like him, and all at once, I feel a little bit lighter inside.

“Actually, I did,” I say. It’s not even hard to admit it.

Surprise flashes across his face, followed by pain, and I wish I could take my words back. I really shouldn’t have said that. We’re not ready yet. He’s not. He was just joking, and I made too much out of it.

“I missed you too,” he says softly. All at once there’s a fluttering warmth in my stomach and chest.

The corners of my mouth go up, and my shoulders sink in relief. “Good.”

He smiles briefly before becoming serious again. “But you didn’t come here to tell me that, did you?”

With a sigh, I shake my head. “No.”

“What happened?” Phoenix sinks down onto the bed and pulls me with him. But I remain sitting with my legs drawn up, while Phoenix lies down. A little distance won’t hurt right now. Still, his fingers are touching mine.

I hesitate for a moment. Maybe I’m wrong; maybe what I saw wasn’t what I thought it was. But there’s also the not entirely unlikely possibility that it was exactly what I thought it was, and I need to talk to someone about it. Phoenix is the only one I can talk to. No, that’s not true. He’s the only one I want to talk to.

“It’s about Susannah.”

“Susannah?” He sounds like he didn’t expect this at all, and if I were in his place, I would probably have the same reaction. I don’t talk much about my friends because there isn’t much to say. Or maybe there is, but I’m just not ready to.

“I was practicing tonight, and when I was about to go back to the dorm, I saw her in the bathroom.” I hesitate again. I straighten my shoulders and then just say it. “She was throwing up.”

“On purpose?” A look of worry crosses his face, his thoughts immediately going the same direction as mine.

“I’m not sure.” I nervously wrap a strand of hair around my finger. “She lost weight over the summer, but I wasn’t there, so I don’t know. Katie didn’t say anything, and she’s been eating over the last few weeks, I’ve seen her.”

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a problem.”

“Of course not, but . . . why would she do that?” I ask, wringing my hands. I don’t get it. Not with her. She was always the one who lectured the rest of us when we didn’t have an appetite. She always said we need the energy to dance. If you don’t eat, you’re not strong enough. If you’re not strong enough, you’ll get hurt. And if you get hurt, you may never be able to dance again.

“There are a lot of reasons people do things like that, especially in ballet. You know that.”

“Yes, of course, but not for Susannah. She has . . . I don’t know.” I groan and bury my face in my hands. “Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I shouldn’t be worrying.”

“Did you talk to her about it?”

“Yes, but not for long.”

“What did she say?”

“That she felt sick after dinner and I shouldn’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Maybe she really did just feel sick,” Phoenix says, but I can tell he doesn’t believe it either. When someone tells you not to make a big deal out of something, it’s usually something that’s a very big deal.

“What about Katie? Are you going to talk to her about it?”

“No,” I admit. “I wanted to but . . . I don’t know. They’re best friends. They grew up together, like sisters. If I talk to Katie about Susannah, she’ll run straight to her and tell her that I did.”