Page 17 of With You

“I wouldn’t ask again if you don’t want me to change my mind.”

“Thank you, River. This means a lot to me. I’ll repay you however you want once we’re done.”

“I’d better get thinking then,” I say with a wink. “The great Amelie Devereaux owes me a favour. What a world we live in.”

“This is going to be hell,” she mutters under her breath, loud enough for me to hear. “Meet me here at seven tonight. I’ve reserved the studio for the rest of the evening.”

She doesn’t wait for a response before she turns on her heel and leaves the studio. As soon as the door closes behind her, the weight of what I’ve just agreed to begins to sink in. I’m going to perform with Amelie, the girl who hates my existence just as much as I don’t hate hers.

Time seems to pass quicker than it ever has before. I’ve spent the past few hours thinking of excuses and ways to tell Amelie that I’ve changed my mind. This is a terrible idea. We don’t like each other enough to dance together. It’s only going to make her hate me even more than she already does once she realises we’re not compatible in that way—in any way. But for how long I spend thinking of reasons not to do it, they all pale in comparison to the one reason I should. This showcase means a lot to Amelie, and I can’t let her down.

When I reach the studio, the lights are already on, and Amelie is in the middle of warming up.

“You’re late,” she says, lifting her leg up onto the barre before bending to touch her toes, her nose flat against her knee.

I check my phone; it’s only two minutes past seven. I don’t say anything but hold up the screen so she can see when she lifts her head.

“Surely you know how to tell the time by now, or did you miss that class in elementary school?”

“Ha ha.”

I put my phone into my bag and throw it on the floor next to hers. I take my hoodie off, the thin white shirt I’m wearing clinging to me. Amelie still has her warm-up gear on, pale pink leg warmers over white tights, and a short pink cardigan covering her—you guessed it—pink leotard. It’s a miracle I haven’t grown a complete aversion to the colour yet.

I take a spot on the barre a few feet away so I can warm up, only finishing when she does. I should tell her that I’m having second thoughts before we get too far into this.

“I think⁠—”

“River, please.”

My words catch in my throat at the desperate plea in her voice. Amelie stares at the ground, her arms crossed around her stomach like she’s holding herself together.

“I know you don’t want to do this,” she continues, “but please.”

I swallow hard, a lump forming in my throat. I’ve never seen this side of Amelie before in our entire lives. She’s never been the type to ask for anything, always working hard to get what she wants on her own. But she’s asking me. I can’t say no.

“I was just going to say I think we should figure out what piece to do,” I lie.

I can’t let her know I had any doubts, especially after the way she just said my name, like it was the solution to all her problems.

“There’s one I think we should try,” she says, putting her walls back up and easily transforming into the professional I know her as.

She grabs her phone from the floor and sits with her legs crossed. I settle down next to her, keeping as much distance as possible while still being able to see her screen.

“This is one of my favourites,” she says, tapping on to a video.

From the costumes, I already know it’s a pas de deux from Romeo and Juliet. It’s a truly masterful ballet, and the pas de deux are famously romantic. Amelie shows me the balcony scene; the intensity and chemistry of the two dancers are visceral even through the small screen. It’s a show I’ve seen many times before, and I know what’s coming at the end. Romeo and Juliet’s first kiss.

The video nears its finale: Romeo reaches out for Juliet after he chases her and takes her hand. The kiss happens right after he pulls her close, but I don’t see it because Amelie stops the video.

“If we spend the next few hours here, I think we can perfect at least the beginning,” she says, turning her head to look at me for confirmation.

I nod, all words escaping me as reality finally hits me that we’re actually going to do this.

“Let’s start then.” Amelie stands, connecting her phone to the speaker before asking for mine. She leans the two up next to each other by the mirror, hers showing the video we just watched, and mine open to the camera, recording the two of us on the small screen.

Amelie moves to the centre of the room, holding herself in first position as she waits for me. I get up, loosening my limbs one last time before I stand behind her. I lift my hands, hovering them at her sides, but don’t put them on her just yet. She stares at me in the mirror, her eyes catching mine as she nods, giving me permission to touch her.

As soon as my hands find their place on her waist, it’s like a match strikes within me, the spark I’ve lost flickering back to life.