"It's not a work ethic. I'm too stupid to know when to stop."
"Trust me, it's a work ethic that not a lot of people possess. And I'm stupid with a lot of things, but I know the value of hard work."
I look around the room. Everyone here busts their asses to make this place the success it is. "I think everybody does."
"That's why they're here. And that's why I want you to stay during this interim."
"Stay?" I can't be hearing this right. "And do what?" As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. No one will ever accuse me of being too delicate or polite, that's for sure.
"We can definitely put you into the ensemble forRock of Agesif you feel like busting your ass again and learning a number or two. After that, we haveSomething Rotten. Definitely ensemble for that, and I think you should be dance captain for bothRottenandAn American in Paris. Obviously, there's a stipend for being dance captain."
"I can't tap. Isn't there a lot of tap inAn American in Paris?" My mom wanted me to stick with tap lessons, but I only got through grade three before I gave up. It wasn't my jam.
Also, why do I have to open my mouth and be so brutally honest? This is a chance to stay here and get paid for it.
"We can figure that out. You in?"
I glance across the room to see Josh, his wide smile laughing.Hell yes.
"I think I can make that work. Thanks, Grayson."
He squeezes me on the shoulder and then stands. I stare into my plastic cup at the dredges of chardonnay, amazed at the turn my life just took.
I stand up, unsure of what to do with myself. This is good. Really good. Yet somehow, I'm not doing the internal cartwheels I expected to be doing. Instead, I feel … out of sorts. I walk outside.
Maybe I'm tired and need some air. Maybe it's the wine. I'm not used to drinking. Maybe it's—
"Hey." Josh is there, walking beside me. "Where you going? It's pretty dark out here."
Instantly, I feel better. Also, he cut his hair, and I like it. A lot.
I look around. The grounds are shrouded in blackness. I hadn't even noticed. "I dunno. I wasn't paying attention."
"Hicklam's pretty safe, but still, you shouldn't be wandering out here alone in the dark."
"If I can survive Brooklyn, I'm sure I can survive here."
Josh looks around. "But you're almost never going to get attacked by a bear in Brooklyn. Here?" He raises his eyebrows, glancing around.
"For serious? A bear?" I face him, my hands on my hips.
"Totally. They have them here. Not to mention coyotes and foxes and other things that seem cute but could be rabid."
I consider him for a moment. "Okay, you can stay with me."
He stands a little taller, puffing out his chest. "So you think I can protect you from a bear? That's a nice confidence boost."
I pull my lips tightly together, not wanting to laugh. I'm not successful. There's a chance I'm tipsy. A good chance.
"What?" he asks, not getting the private joke I have in my head. "What's so funny?"
"I wasn't thinking you'd protect me, per se. I was thinking more along the lines that I can definitely outrun you, so if a bear is chasing us, he'll get you first and I can get away." I laugh a little more than I should. It's official. I'm definitely tipsy. Otherwise, I never would have actually said that out loud.
His mouth drops open for a moment, and then he starts to laugh. Standing here in the dark, we're the two teens who became fast friends and faster lovers. None of the drama of the past decade exists. "I doubt that."
When I'm with Josh, I'm the freest Leslie I can be.
Once we start laughing, neither of us can seem to stop. Wetness runs down my cheeks. It's so nice to be crying this way, rather than out of anger or sadness.
