“You can major in dance?” I’m not being an ass. I’m truly shocked.
She smiles, loving my surprise. “Yep. It’s a Bachelor of Arts.”
My lips quirk as I nod. “Nice. So why the ‘was’ part of your statement? Your passion for dance is all over your face, so why did you give it up?”
She taps her knees as if it’s the answer to everything. It isn’t. She has a nice kneecap, but I’m not seeing the issue.
“I had a knee reconstruction two years ago. I was landing the most perfect grand jeté when my knee gave out from underneath me.” She’s not being showy. I can’t see anything but genuine honesty in her eyes. “I spent a week in hospital and another six on crutches, then. . .” Her words drift off when disappointment takes them hostage.
I’m not as willing to end our conversation. This isn’t the first chat we’ve had today, but it is the most interesting. “That was two years ago, so what’s stopping you now?”
Willow’s brows stitch as she stares at me like I’m a moron. “I had acompleteknee reconstruction.”
“So?” I reply, unsure why that would stop her. I broke my back, yet, here I am, playing the game I love. “Wasn’t it you who said ‘fuck consequences, they’re barely a blip on the radar when you’re endeavoring for greatness’? Maybe you should listen to your own advice?”
“My knee can’t withstand the endurance needed for ballet.” She looks like she wants to say more, but she holds it back—barely.
“You can’t say that if you haven’t given it a chance. Besides, even if that were true, when one part of your body can’t stand the pressure, teach the ones around it to take up its slack. Your thighs, your ankles, train them to support your knee, then, over time, give your knee a shot to prove its strength.”
I take a mental note to kiss the shit out of my physical therapist for her once unwanted advice when a staunch glint forms in Willow’s eyes. She’s not entirely with my proposal, but she’s not shutting it down either. That’s good enough for me—for now.
“Okay. I’ll give it a go. There’s no harm in trying, right?”
My heart tap-dances on my ribs as excitement roars through me. I never realized how good it feels to help someone. It’s nearly as rewarding as achieving the seemingly impossible yourself.
“Until then. . . what’s occupying your time?”
Her first reply is unvoiced. Her glance at me through lowered lashes adds an extra beat to my already thumping heart. Her second reply shocks me, “If I play my cards right, by the end of this academic year, I’ll graduate with a bachelor in sports medicine.”
“Sports medicine?!”
I apologize to anyone within a ten-mile radius of the parking lot of Willow’s school. I just damaged your hearing, didn’t I?
“Yes!” Willow leans over to whack me in the arm. “Why are you so surprised by that? Sports and dancing are one and the same.”
Spit gargles in my throat when I fake a gag. “That’s not true, because youhatesports.”
“I don’t hate them! I just don’t love them. Those are two entirely different things.” After smacking me for a second time, she sinks into her chair before folding her arms over her chest. “I didn’t have the means to throw two years of study down the drain. It was either pick a major that worked with the credits I already had or quit altogether.” I chuckle under my breath when she murmurs, “It was a close call.”
The playfulness fueling our conversation does a complete one-eighty when she discloses, “I’m unlikely to graduate anyway. If I don’t find a placement next month, I’ll lose fifty percent of my grade this term.”
“You need an internship to graduate?”
She jerks her chin up. “Yeah, and no one is eager to let a novice get within an inch of their ‘superstar client.’” She air quotes her last two words. “I’m weeks from setting up a massage table outside my local gym and requesting volunteers on their way out.”
I’d laugh if she didn’t sound so serious.
“Do you want me to have a word with some contacts I have in the industry?”
She peers at me in shock. “You know people in the sports industry?”
“I can if you need me to.”
Asking favors in my field is the equivalent of signing a verbal contract to be their ass-kisser for the remainder of the season, but I like Willow, and I really like the flavor of her mouth, so I’m more than willing to put in a word for her if it brings back her smile and increases my chance of kissing her a little more.
Like she can hear my private thoughts, she leans over to press her mouth to mine. Her kiss is as innocent as I wish her face wasn’t, but it’s full of tenderness. After drawing back, her grateful eyes dance between mine. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll find a placement. You can only be knocked back so many times before you eventually get what you want, right?”
“Right.”
