“Man, you’ve been out of it all day, what’s with you?”
I looked away because I knew he was right but I didn’t want to explain that all day all I’d been able to think about was Collette. I couldn’t stop thinking about last night and this potential deal I’d proposed to have access to some studio space.
I hadn’t even realized how much I wanted it until I’d put it out there. And now—now it was everything I wanted. Just a place where I could go and…do my thing, as Collette put it.
Last night with Collette had been…well, it had been intense. But it had also been real. This might sound a tad pathetic but last night I’d felt like myself for the first time that I could remember.
For years now I’d been going through the motions—being the teammate and leader I was supposed to be, the son I’d been raised to be, and the student my teachers expected me to be.
It was killing me. I didn’t realize how much I’d been creating the life my father wanted me to create until last night when I’d stopped. And I’d talked. And I’d told someone what actually made me happy.
Not someone—Collette.
Andthe crazy part? She hadn’t laughed.
But she hadn’t said yes to this crazy plan either, so…I was stuck in limbo, I supposed. And until I saw her, until I talked to her—I was pretty much useless.
“Does your weirdness have to do with your meeting with the coach?” Ryan asked.
“Nah, man, it’s just a bad day, that’s all.”
He didn’t say anything, and I was glad he hadn’t tried to cheer me up. The whole team had heard the coach ream me out about my lack of focus on the field today. When he was done publicly humiliating me, he’d called me into his office. I would’ve preferred more red-faced hollering instead of the talk we’d had. I’d seen actual pity in his eyes when he told me how he’d gotten a call from my dad. Seemed my father hadn’t taken my word for it that I’d handle the whole ballerina situation and he’d gone ahead and taken matters into his own hands.
“So, you’re going to pull me from the ballet classes?” I’d asked.
Coach had snorted with amusement. “Heck, no. I explained to that hothead father of yours that college scouts would love the fact that you were going above and beyond to improve.” Coach had waved a dismissive hand. “He came around eventually.”
I’d been oddly grateful. I still was as I sat here hoping to catch a glimpse of Collette. I mean, I still didn’t love the idea of putting my body through the torture that was ballet class, but I did love the idea that classes could be theperfect excuse to escape my house and take a little time to do something for myself.
“So, what do you think, man?” Ryan asked.
“What do I think…” I repeated stupidly.
He groaned. “You’re not listening at all, are you?”
I didn’t try to deny it as I dropped my head, forcing myself to stop staring at the door. She wasn’t coming. I tried not to be too disappointed. I mean, she hadn’t saidwhenshe’d let me know, right? But even so, I’d snuck my guitar out to my car this morning before I’d left the house. Tonight would be the perfect night to start our practice sessions since my parents would be out until late. I’d hoped she’d have given me an answer by now, but then again I was the idiot who hadn’t given her my number so she could text me, or?—
Ryan smacked my arm. “I said, weneedyou.”
I looked over at him and blinked. “Um…need me for what, exactly?”
Ryan rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall, not even pretending to stretch. “You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you? I was saying that Keith had to bail on the gig at The Tailgate next month. We need a stand-in guitarist.” He arched his brows. “You in?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t have to. My heart had started pumpingat the very idea of playing in front of people. And to play with Ryan and his crew? At The Tailgate? This would be epic. No way I’d missit. “Of course, man. Absolutely.”
He grinned at my enthusiasm and I tried to focus on the details he started rattling off rather than what lies I’d have to come up with to get out of the house.
“Ms. Boucher can’t make it.” Bianca the uptight blonde stood over me and Ryan, her hands on her hips as she scowled down at us.
“Great,” Ryan said in his laziest, I-don’t-give-a-crap tone. “Does that mean we get to go home?”
Bianca kicked his foot. “No, moron. It means that I’ll be leading class.”
“Where’s Ms. Boucher?” Eve asked. She was hovering beside Cooper, who looked like he wasn’t even aware of her existence as he checked something on his phone.
During the first class, Collette’s mom had paired us up, assigning one of the ballerinas from her top class to each of us football players. They were supposed to help us, and none of the ballerinas tried to hide the fact that they viewed this as an extreme form of punishment.
Bianca had been the loudest of them all with her complaints so it must have been killing her to not only have to participate in this class, but lead it.
