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I shook my head. “I’m good.”
Again, a mixture of disappointment and annoyance was in his eyes.
“Well….” My voice squeaked… squeaked! Like a damn duck. Coughing, I cleared my throat, trying again. “Thank you, Theo. Honestly, the last couple of weeks have been a lot of fun—”
“I’m not going to kiss you goodbye, Felicity,” he whispered, his lips so close to mine they were all I could see.
“I understand. I—”
He held me in place. “The moment you realize you want me to kiss you, that you want to kiss me back, call me.”
He got back in his car, pulled out, and then drove off without looking back at me.
“You’re an idiot, Felicity Harper.” There was Mark, dressed in jeans and red V-neck shirt, shaking his blond head at me.
“I know.”
He didn’t have to say anything more; he just took my things and walked up the stairs into our condo.
The fact that I waited for one more second, wondering if he would turn around again, proved how big an idiot I really was.
Why? Why won’t I let myself be with him?
The condo was the same, like nothing had been moved out of place, not even a single pillow, yet it felt completely different.
“Drink wine, eat kettle corn, and remember, Felicity, he’s just a guy.” Cleo came out of the kitchen, her hair dyed back to her natural brown for the first time in a long time, holding up the wine for me.
“Heartless.” Mark frowned at her.
“Over-emotional pansy.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
I smiled, though I didn’t really feel it. “You guys will never change, will you?”
“Nope. Come on, The Notebook is about to come on—”
“Guys, I’m tired. I’m just going to rest.” I walked up to my room. Dropping my bag on the floor, I crawled into my bed. My brain ached so badly it felt like the room was spinning, and I was going to be sick.
Theo
Stopping at the red light, I gripped the steering wheel. I didn’t get her at all. She liked me. I liked her. What the hell where we doing?
“Darcy,” I answered via Bluetooth on my phone.
“We have a problem, Theo,” Walt said on the line.
“What type of problem?”
“How close are you to Mercy Hospital?”
I was already making a U-turn. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“It’s not me, Theo. It’s Violet. Did you know she had a bad knee?”
“What the hell do you mean, bad knee? She took a physical before signing the contract.” I sped down the highway.
“Whoever it was lied, or she faked her documentation. She has both an ACL and Meniscus tears. She had surgery last year, but from what the doctors are saying, she should never have been allowed to dance. But she’s been taking oxycodone for the pain and dancing anyway.”
In my mind I replayed every time she’d fallen during practice, all the complaints he had made about her dancing, the fact she’d left her dream stage to dance in the States. It all made sense.
