“It’s yours until you graduate.”
I whip my head to him. “Mine?”
He confirms.
I’ll wrap my head around that later. For now I push up my long sleeves and twist my hair into a tight knot. I need a hair tie, but the bobby pin in my pocket will do. Ah, and the leggings make sense. I hope he’s not expecting me to show off right now.
“Should I get out of here?” he asks. “Or do you want to take me up on our deal?”
“That does make for some excellent bribery.” I return his flirty smile.
I step into him, and his strong arms wrap around me again. He smells even better from here. Clean laundry and mint and boy smell. His heart beats a contented slow beat. What a dream.
“No, get out of here,” I say. “I need to acquaint myself with my studio.” Sending him out while squeezing him close—a new kind of mixed message.
He leans toward the side of my head but abruptly stops.
“It’s okay. Those don’t seem to cause trouble.”
A kiss on my temple. Bliss.
“Thank you.” I feel that old tug to pay him back, but I fight it. Appreciation doesn’t feel like enough, but it’ll have to be.
“For the kiss?” he jokes. “They’re on unlimited offer.”
I send him a goofy, transcendent smile. “Yes, please. But really, you’re amazing. I can’t believe this place. It couldn’t be more perfect.”
He brushes a wisp of hair back with whisper-soft fingers. And then he strides away with a swoop to grab his shoes. “Let’s talk Wodehouse later,” he adds. “I did my homework.” A wink, and the door clicks shut behind him.
I relish a now familiar flutter in my stomach. I can’t believe this is my life. I pan my surreal surroundings. And my studio.
Share it.
A dream floods into my mind and courses through my veins. Mayberry girls stretching before class in a circle on the floor. A Bible study before ballet instruction. A theme for each week. One for hope. One for surrender. One for courage … A floor combination with steps to echo the theme. Faith made physical.
Is that you?
A combination for hope lays itself out in my mind. Arabesque with a forward reach, step forward, drag turn. Slow fifth rélevé with port de bras and eyes to the sky. Piqué turn, chassé, grand jeté. The beauty of those precious girls acting out their faith with their bodies.
Wait, I can’t teach. And that’s too much to cover in a beginner class. And who would even come?
Right. I glance at the ceiling and breathe out a half-laugh.I’ll let you be the mastermind.
For now, it’s time to warm up. I’m dying to try that grand jeté across this glorious floor.
EPILOGUE
Fourteen Months Later
A door slamsdown the street. My heart lurches. Levi runs a thumb down my hand as he checks my reaction. My sigh of gratitude puffs visibly into the cool January air. It’s been months since my last full-on freakout.
Thank you, God.
Of course, life didn’t magically turn fluffy and straightforward when my flashbacks subsided. Sweet Levi is still an alien. Everett’s been spiraling. Grey’s dating a girl I don’t trust. People keep judging Levi for his money, and lately I’ve been lumped into that too. The whole thing with Sophie and Austin. I’m not sure if I should stick with all these math classes. Levi’s pushing Coloradoafter college—he’s amazing—but his family needs him, and he misses the ocean.
I straighten to reset. Nope—not my job.
You take it. I’m just following you.
