Page 28 of Until We Come Home

“I’m not making a production, I’m documenting a miracle.” He leans down, plucking my oversized gray sweatshirt off the mattress, and holds it up by the shoulders. "You never leave home without the lucky hoodie."

"You know me well. She's the first thing I pulled out to pack," I say, taking the sweatshirt back from him with a laugh.

He smiles. "So what's with three months? I thought you were going to shoot the Lark stuff and then fly back for some random gigs. Weren't you thinking about doing a few of those shows at Sarah's, New York or here?"

"Yeah, that was the original plan, but I got a good opportunity. Lark's project is huge, and then Meridian asked me to teach their summer intensive." I fold the sweatshirt and set it on the pile, mostly to have something to do with my hands. "And a lot of my people are going to be up there. Lark and Jack will be in and out. Mateo's going to be in Seattle too, he took a contract with a crew up there for the season."

"Oh, right. Mateo. How's he doing?"

Derek isn't the jealous type, so my friendship with Mateo has never been a threat to him. It's one of the qualities I've always liked about him. No possessiveness, no keeping score.

"He's good," I say. "Really good, actually."

"That's great. I'm glad you'll have a friend up there." He smiles, and I know he's sincere about it.

Derek's good like that.

He settles onto the edge of the mattress, careful not to crush my folded crop tops, and looks around the room as if taking a nostalgic tour.

There’s the scuff along the baseboard from the time we attempted to move my heavy dresser, the fairy lights he strung up for me two Christmases ago that I’ve never bothered taking down, and the chipped blue ceramic mug on the drying rack that he always claimed as his own whenever he stayed over.

He glances up at me with a lopsided smile. “So if you’re going to be tucked away up north for the whole summer, I guess it was a little foolish of me to drop by trying to win you back with grocery store blooms.”

“Your timing’s always been a little off,” I say, letting out a soft laugh as I sink onto the mattress beside him.

Our relationship is slightly unconventional. We’re more like an indie band that goes on an extended hiatus. One of us books a tour or takes a month-long choreography job on the opposite coast, and we say, okay, let’s take our space while you’re out, and we’ll figure out where we land when you’re back. And in the meantime, we’re free to date around and do our own thing.

It keeps us from suffocating each other. We enjoy each other’s company, but we’re both deeply allergic to the whole heavy, traditional, you belong to me forever routine. Guys who act territorial give me immediate hives. Though we’re usually fairly respectful about seeing other people during breaks, and him hooking up with a girl I dance with right after our latest split was pushing it a bit.

I didn’t mention to Mateo that she was an acquaintance of mine. He already thinks Derek’s a bit of a flake as it is, so there was zero reason to add fuel to that fire. Mateo is strictly monogamous to his core. When he falls for someone, he’s all in. Lindsey was it for him, and his occasional hookups since are few and far between.

Maybe Mateo’s attitude is rubbing off on me, because this latest stint with Derek actually got under my skin.

“Didn’t you start seeing someone practically five minutes after we called a hiatus?” I ask, cocking a brow at him. “A dancer I literally run into in rehearsals every week?”

“That didn’t mean anything, and I didn’t know she knew you until after.” He laughs, and his hand lands on my thigh, thumb moving in slow circles on the bare skin below my shorts. “I actually ended it because I was hoping to see you while you were in town.”

He smiles at me, his hand sliding a little higher, the same way it always starts with us. Ordinarily I’d be pulling his shirt off by now and we’d be having ridiculously hot make-up sex, then lying tangled up together for a while after.

But this time feels different. I don’t want to. I’ve been looking forward to this summer for weeks, a whole season single and unattached, hanging out with Mateo, figuring out Seattle, no one to text when I land. Reopening the door with Derek just feels exhausting.

“Derek, I’m sorry, but I don’t think so this time.” I shift so his hand slides off and turn to face him. “I really want this summer to just be mine. I think we should stick to the off-again plan and see how we feel once the dust settles in the fall.”

“Alright, fair enough.” He raises both hands in peaceful surrender. “I’ll put the sunflower budget on ice.”

“Appreciate it.”

“I’m going to miss you, though,” he says, his eyes searching mine. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

I smile at that. “I’ll miss you too.”

And I will. Irritation aside, he really does have such a big heart. I love his terrible cheesy humor, and the devotion he has to his choreography is something I’ve always admired. We’ve been doing this, on and off, for almost four years.

We built our careers side by side, his choreography and my dancing, two broke dancers pooling gas money and splitting studio rentals, and we’ve always found our way back to each other.

“Well,” he says, standing up. “I wish you the best summer, Mia. I mean it. Meridian is about as legit as it gets. I can’t say I ever pictured you teaching there, but I know you’ll be wonderful.”

“Thanks, Derek.” I smile and stand to see him out.