Page 11 of With You

“I know these speeches are boring, but surely you haven’t taken to talking to yourself?”

“You kicked me.”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

And then I do it again.

“Amelie.”

I don’t enjoy the way he says my name. The combination of a British mother and American father, while living in various countries growing up, has meant that River’s accent always has a tinge of something to it. Whenever he says my name, the slightest French accent slips out, like he’s taking extra care to pronounce it properly. I don’t like it.

“You should really be quiet during these things,” I chide.

I turn my head slightly to the side to look at him, and he’s staring at me with the most incredulous expression on his face. His grey eyes lock onto mine, and I see the tiniest curve at the corner of his lips before applause erupts around us. I lift my hands to join, tapping my fingers against my palm as River brings his hands together.

After a few seconds, the applause peters out, and the General Director takes his seat, cueing the waiters to bring out our food. As expected, Zena and Layth get theirs first, but they both wait for us to get ours before they eat. The dinner is delicious, and the seven of us chat about our plans for the upcoming year. I try to avoid talking about the auditions, and thankfully no one brings them up. Grayson tells us about the many vacations he has planned, and Evie and Damien mention their formal engagement should take place this year.

I give Evie a reassuring smile, knowing that this was never the future she dreamed of. When we were younger, our heads were very much in the clouds. We decorated our rooms with posters of pop stars and actors, giggling at the thought of ever dating one of them and letting our imaginations run wild with scenarios where we’d bump into them and they would fall in love with us. One conversation with Evie’s parents changed all of that for her. She’s tried to have feelings for Damien, and although she doesn't, she’s learned to make the best of a bad situation. At least Damien is her friend, and not someone completely unknown to her.

Talking to Evie about crushes on celebrities, or real people, was never the same after that. I never wanted to bring anything like that up around her, because it would feel like rubbing salt in the wound. It’s not that I’ve had much interest in anyone, and I’ve always been far too busy with ballet to worry about getting into a relationship. I can’t have any distractions, and that would be a huge one. I think that young girl still lives inside me somewhere, though, dreaming of love but scared to reach for it. Once I’ve achieved my dreams, maybe I can think of finding romance, but until then, it’s not something I can afford to do.

The General Director speaks again, drawing all our attention as he closes the dinner now that all the food has been served and the speeches are done. We’re free to either go back to our rooms, or stay to dance. A string quartet is set up in one corner of the hall, and they start playing as soon as the General Director finishes speaking. Couples slowly make their way onto the dance floor, moving to the lively classical music that fills the room.

Evie grabs Damien’s arm as she stands, dragging him along to join the small crowd. He rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smile on his face as her hand comes to rest upon his shoulder, his arm circling her waist. I watch them for a few minutes, their steps in sync, and the quiet laughs they share from whatever whispered conversation they’re having.

I’m too used to dancing alone to ever do something like that, so I head back to my room instead of waiting for the event to finish.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell the others as I stand, smoothing out my dress.

“Stay a little longer,” Zena protests, leaning across the table to reach out for me.

“I’ve got an early practice tomorrow,” I explain, going around to her side of the table. “I’d rather go back and get some rest.”

I place my hand on her shoulder and lean down to kiss her cheek.

“Let’s go out for a real dinner this week,” I suggest to appease her. Zena raises her hand to rest on mine, patting it twice before nodding.

“Stay for a dance, Amelie,” Grayson says, flashing me a wink. I’m not sure who that works on, but it’s certainly not me.

“Unless it’s ballet, I’m not interested,” I tell him, stepping away from the table.

“Have some pity on a guy. I’ve never been to anything like this before. It looks fun.” He glances at the dancing couples and lets out a heavy sigh. “Guess I’ll have to try again next year.”

He shrugs, pressing his lips into a flat line, and for a split second I actually feel bad for him. He taps his fingers against the table, eyes dejected, and I know this is all an act, but he looks too pathetic to be left alone.

“One dance,” I tell him quickly, before I can regret saying it out loud.

Grayson springs up from his seat, his expression completely changing as he comes to stand by my side.

“This is why you’re my favourite,” he says as I let him lead me over to the dance floor.

“If you step on my feet, I will put you in the hospital,” I warn him.

“Understood.”

We take up our positions, Grayson’s hand hovering right over my hip as he uses his other hand to take mine. I use my free hand to press his against my waist, and the touch feels foreign. I’m not used to dancing with anyone, or being touched by anyone that isn’t Evie or Zena. I push the feeling down, knowing that it’s nothing against Grayson in particular, and I don’t want him to think it is either. The music shifts to a slower tempo, our steps becoming more relaxed, and making the whole thing feel easier.

“Thanks for doing this,” he says, a shy smile on his face that looks entirely at odds with the Grayson I know that’s usually full of confidence. “It really means a lot to me.”