The truth settles in a way I didn’t expect, because ballet had once been everything to me.Not just something I did.It waseverything.The feeling of becoming art instead of simply observing it made me feel invincible.I loved it enough to build my entire adolescence around it.
And then one day I had to stop.I tore my Achilles, playing tennis of all things, not even while dancing, the summer after my senior year of high school.
I was supposed to go to Northeastern in Boston, who partnered with the Boston Ballet to offer intensive classical training.Instead, I ended up at Northwestern, a semester late due to my recovery, and instead of making art, I studied it.And, it’s where I met Hayden.
I suppose I put the dream of dancing up on a shelf, and now, years later, I realized that I had lost something that once was my whole existence.All reasons that sound logical until years later when it dawns on you that you quietly abandoned something that once made your soul feel alive.
“You never talk about it,” Hayden comments as we climb the stairs toward our seats.
“I think maybe it hurt too much afterward.”
His gaze shifts toward me with curiosity.“Why?”
I offer him a sad smile with my explanation.“Because stopping wasn’t something I chose, it was something that happened.”
Something flickers across his face then.Understanding.Maybe even recognition.Because I know Hayden understands what it means to lose things that once made you feel whole and not have any control over that.
The orchestra begins tuning louder inside the theater as an usher guides us toward our seats near center stage.Of course, they are excellent seats.Hayden waits until I’m seated, and then settles close enough that his leg brushes against mine.It’s not accidental, it’s never accidental with him.
The lights begin to dim around us, and somehow the entire world narrows.Music swells and with it, the curtain rises.And for the next hour, I forget everything else.I forget distance.I forget any doubts and fears I have.I forget every carefully constructed wall I’ve spent the last week rebuilding around my heart.
Because Hayden’s hand remains tangled with mine.Because every time I glance toward him, he’s watching me instead of the stage.Because during one particularly emotional sequence, his thumb brushes across my knuckles like he can feel every reaction moving through me.
And maybe worst of all; I realize halfway through the first act, that Hayden doesn’t hate ballet at all.He just hates not understanding things.And tonight, he’s trying to understand this piece of me because he knows it matters to me.That in itself is enough to wreck me.
By intermission, the theater lobby buzzes with conversation and champagne while snow continues falling outside massive windows overlooking the city.Hayden leaves to grab us drinks, and when he finds me again, I’m standing near the balcony railing staring out at downtown Chicago glowing beneath the snowfall.
“You disappeared,” he murmurs while handing me a glass.
“I was admiring the city.”
His eyes stay on me over the rim of his whiskey.“Pretty sure the city’s losing that competition.”
Heat rises to my cheeks.“You’re laying it on thick tonight.”
“Am I?”
“You took me to the ballet, Hayden.I’m already emotionally vulnerable.”
A low laugh escapes him.And God, I’ve come to love that sound.We drift through the crowd afterward, people moving around us in elegant gowns and suits.And then I feel Hayden go still beside me.
It’s subtle, but I notice it when his hand falls from my lower back.My brow furrows as I follow his line of sight across the lobby.I recognize Mikey from pictures of the band.And I’m assuming the woman with him is his girlfriend, Quinn.Hayden’s speaks of them both often.
They’re standing near the opposite staircase laughing together, Quinn’s hand wrapped around Mikey’s wrist while he says something against her hair that makes her grin.For one suspended second, warm hope blooms in my chest.Finally, a chance to be a part of something else in his life.
Hayden leans closer before I can even fully turn toward him, his mouth brushing against my ear.“Not tonight,” he murmurs against it.“Tonight is just for me and you.”
His words twist inside my chest in confusion.On the surface?What he said should be beautiful and romantic.Possessive in the way Hayden always is when he cares too much.But all I hear underneath them is; private, secret, hidden.
Doubt flickers through my mind.Because this night has been perfect.Truly perfect.But somehow, standing here in the middle of a crowded theater while snow falls outside with Hayden’s hand no longer against my lower back, I realize perfection with him only seems to exist behind closed doors.Private dinners.Private apartments.Private nights.Private love.My throat tightens as I look over at him.
“You, okay?”Hayden ask, concern evident in his tone.
Of course he notices.I force a small smile quickly enough that maybe he believes it.“Yes,” I lie.“I’m okay.”
And because I love him enough not to ruin this night, I let him guide me back toward the theater when the lights flicker for the second act.But somewhere beneath the orchestra and drinks, something inside me has started breaking quietly apart.
Chapter Twenty-Five
