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His gaze was warm, assessing, and it made me open my mouth and just babble.
“As you can see we’re just starting. I didn’t have a chance to truly spread the word and the parks and rec department said that next session they’d be able to put some push behind it, but for now it’s just flyers and word of mouth. But—”
“It’s amazing,” he said, which was a stretch. Across the room, Phillip had barely managed to arrange the three kids in a line in front of the mirror. “The Zoe Madison Dance Academy.”
It was ridiculous. I knew that but, somehow, at this moment, Carter seemed so lonely. Or alone. Watching this clumsy dance program inspired by him, but seeming removed from it. From everything. But eager for it. Hungry for it.
It was as if he were locked deep under his skin, trying hard to reach out.
“You inspired me,” I blurted. “That night at Bola. What you said about plugging kids into things that interested them.”
“I’m glad. A dance class is an excellent idea,” he murmured, then he shook his head, as if forcing himself to be honest. “I’m moved, actually. It’s not often I get to see the immediate result of something I care about. I swear, most days I sit on the phone trying to change the city and the real work, the real change, is happening right here.”
I stared at him, trying to think of rocks and dams, fortresses and castles, things that stood firm. Unmoved.
“I guess, maybe I’m jealous,” he said, and I felt all the firm ground beneath my resolve turn to quicksand.
“Well,” I joked, “if you know how to break dance…”
He laughed, breaking the unbearable tension between us, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “If it was skateboarding, I might be able to help you.”
“What?” I cried.
“I was a skateboarder—”
“Shut up.”
“It’s that hard to believe?”
“Yes!” I cried. “It is!”
“Well.” He looked chagrined and totally adorable. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and smooth back his mussed hair. “I wasn’t very good, really. My brother, though—” his smile was distant and fond, and I held my breath, waiting for him to reveal something else, some small glimpse into his life “—he had the talent.”
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Tyler. Ty. He was one of those guys who was good at everything he did.”
“And you’re so different?”
He stared at me for a long time and I realized, my heart breaking, that he truly didn’t see himself the way I did. The way the world did.
“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject. “What you’re doing here is great. If you need help with anything. Funding or…” He paused, and his eyes began to glow with a bright speculative light that made me nervous but giddy at the same time, as if he was looking at me as a teammate. A friend. “What are you doing on Saturday?”
“Nothing that would get my picture in the paper,” I said.
“I don’t blame you,” he said. “But I got the funding for the Glenview Community Center—”
“Congratulations!” I cheered. “That’s great, Carter. You must feel so good.”
He opened and shut his mouth like a beached fish, as if unsure how to respond, and then he laughed a little. Poor guy, I thought, you’re so uncomfortable with praise.
“It does,” he said. “It feels really good. But the money comes from a local company—Lafayette Corp.”
“I’ve seen their signs,” I said, trying to remember where.
“Construction,” he said. “They’ve been a big part of cleaning up and rebuilding the state in the past few years.”
“Right business at the right time,” I said, unable to hide the darkness from my voice.
“It’s not like that, honestly. I’ve checked these guys out. They’re working as green as possible, they’ve funded half the Habitat for Humanity programs in the parish. Believe it or not, they’re the good guys. They’re throwing this fundraiser on Saturday—”
“What does that have to do with me?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Zoe—they’re giving away money to community-based organizations. What do you think it has to do with you?”
My academy. Explosions went off in my head. My dream for the academy could actually get off the ground. Now. Not ten years from now, not in that hazy future I always talked about, but right now. As soon as Saturday.
“You don’t have to go as my date,” he said, his voice cool, his face distant. “I’ll get you on the guest list. You can just show up. Ignore me if you want. It’s at the Hilton at 8 p.m. It’s a Casino night, so sort of formal. I hear there’s going to be a chocolate cake made in the shape of a house—”
“You had me at chocolate.”
“You’ll come?” he asked, his eyes sparkling, that cool facade cracking.
He baffled me, tied me in knots. The way he ran hot and cold might have been exciting to me once upon a time, but now it just made me feel foolish and weary.
