“There’s not much to tell.” I take a seat at my desk and start organizing the piles of papers I need to grade. “He’s a childhood friend who recently moved back.”
“Wait. Is this Covey?”
“Um… yes?” How does he know Covey? Silas moved here after college, so we didn’t grow up with the same people. There’s no way they’ve met.
“You’re fake dating the guy you’ve been in love with for half your life?” I don’t like his pointed tone. Or the accusation.
“I’m not in love with him. Why would you even say that?”
“Every other story you tell starts with Covey. It’s always Covey this or Covey that.”
“That’s not… no.” Can that be right? Sure, every good story from my childhood starts and ends with Covey. That doesn’t mean I’m in love with him. It’s a product of a close friendship. And now that he’s back, is it too much to hope that maybe he’ll become that for some of my adult stories?
“This is a terrible idea.” Silas pushes himself up, kneeling on the ground before managing to stand. Those things are not built for adult knees.
“It’s not. It’ll be fine. It’s a few events.” At least, I think that’s what this is. I should probably ask for more specifics.
“Aidan, I’ve never seen you date anyone without throwing your heart into it. At the end of this, you’re going to be heartbroken.” Silas stands in front of my desk, concern spreading across his face.
“That’s the thing, this isn’t dating. At the end of it, I’ll be fine, and Covey and I will still be friends.”
Silas shakes his head. “Aidan?—”
“No, it’s fine.” There’s no way I’m letting him fill my head with doubts. “Now, are we getting drinks?” It’s tradition for us to go out for drinks after faculty meetings, half commiseration and half gossip.
“Give me twenty minutes to pack up my stuff.”
COVEY
“You know it will never work, right?” Maddox says, rummaging through his bag. That thing is straight out of Mary Poppins. No matter how much shit he pulls out, there’s always more. Need a snack? Ask Maddox. An extra outfit? Maddox has you covered. Just don’t ask when it was last washed.
“It will,” I say with far more confidence than the statement deserves. It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. That great honor goes to the time I brought home a frog I found in the woods and secretly tried to keep it as a pet.
It took three whole days before my parents found out. And then, only because my dad came home from work early and caught me giving it a bath in the tub.
“You’re a terrible liar. They’ll work it out by Thanksgiving. Guaranteed.” He holds up the sock he’d been searching for triumphantly. I wrinkle my nose, unsure how long it’s been in that bag or the last time anything in there has been washed. I adore Maddox, but he’s not exactly the cleanest or most organized. How he’s managed to make it this far, I’ll never know. He’s an incredible dancer, but building a career takes a lot more discipline than skill. What it does not require is a penchant for cleanliness. Or laundry.
“Nah, it’ll be easy. Aidan and I were best friends. That counts for something.” I always thought it would be nice to date someone who was a friend first, but it never worked out. As a rule, I don’t date other dancers. Working together and competing for roles against one another makes things way too complicated. It’s been my only rule since I started pre-professional training. I love hearing the gossip, but I prefer to stay out of it.
“Emphasis on the wordwere. Do you even know what he does for a living?” Maddox grabs his foam roller and shovesit under his leg, wincing when it hits a tight spot on his hamstring.
“He’s a…” Shit, I have no idea. I mentally add it to the questions I need to ask. “That doesn’t matter.” Bending over my leg, I try to hide my disappointment at not knowing the answer to that question. I really have been a terrible friend.
“You don’t think you’d know what your boyfriend does for a living? What about his favorite color?”
“Shut up. It’ll be fine.” I switch sides, barely bothering to look up. “And his favorite color has always been green.” My mind flashes back to his bedroom, covered in anything and everything green. Sometime around second grade, he convinced his parents to paint the walls of his bedroom seafoam. Thankfully, they had enough sense to pick a muted shade, but the rest of the room more than made up for it.
“You don’t think people’s favorite color changes as they get older?Really? So even as a young child, gray was your favorite?” He pulls on his ballet shoes, wiggling his toes a few times before making a couple of adjustments. It’s still thirty minutes until class, but the room is full of company members stretching and getting set up.
I wrinkle my nose. “It’s not my favorite.” It’s easier to mix and match clothing if everything is in the same palette. Years ago, I stopped buying bright colors and picked only grays, blacks, and dark blues.Shit. Gray might be my favorite color. That’s a sad statement. And, to Maddox’s point, it wasn’t my favorite color growing up. “Point made.”
I pull on my dance booties, a pair of slipper-like shoes that help keep my foot muscles from tensing during warm-up. They’re light gray, with black stripes, and Maddox gives them a bit of a head nod. “It’s going to be fine. With some people, you can pick up where the relationship left off. No questions asked.” That’s always how we’d been together. Nomatter how long it had been, we’d hug and jump right back in.
“Good luck with that.” He pulls on a pair of black leg warmers. They stand out against the ruby red tights he has on today. Some places I’ve been would never allow something so… bright. Lucky for us, Green Mountain Ballet doesn’t care about dress code as long as we’re on time and work hard.
I spread my legs on the floor and lean over, stretching my hands out in front of me as far as they’ll go. After a few seconds, the tightness in my muscles dissipates a bit, and I get comfortable in the position. Leaning on my elbows, I grab my phone and open up my text chain with Aidan.
Me
