Chapter 3 #2
It’s not like we’ve never been alone before.
But there’s an energy between us that feels different tonight.
It’s felt like this since the end of last school year when we somehow became more than friends after he went to prom with someone else.
It’s like that date made him realize he wanted to be with me.
I’d been mostly keeping my feelings pushed down up until that point.
We started flirting then, and he gave me the perfect first kiss on the Fourth of July, but then I went to Paris, and everything changed.
Maybe it’s because my audition is over. Maybe I could be with him for real if I wanted to now.
But I don’t want to ruin our friendship.
I’m not ready to mess up our balance of being friends who flirt sometimes, because if something went wrong, I’d lose one of my best friends.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
“Sure,” he says, and I follow him to the benches surrounding the huge fire. The sun has set, and the sky is now a deep purple. My classmates are everywhere, most of them carrying red cups that are probably full of cheap beer.
“So this is the big senior bonfire.” He gestures around us, taking it all in. “And your mom let you come?” he asks as we sit on a large log near the fire.
My leg brushes against his, but neither of us moves away from the other. I wish it didn’t feel so comfortable being here with him, but I can’t help how I feel when I’m around him; it’s like my rational brain decides to quit. At least I can somewhat keep up with the small talk.
“Yeah.” I watch the flames, trying to get Mom’s face out of my mind as I look down at my hands. “Mom is dedicated to me becoming a great dancer, and, I mean, I am too. But she has me practicing at five most mornings, so going out late isn’t usually an option.”
“But tonight?”
I glance at him as he asks me this, and when his blue eyes meet mine, I feel that familiar lurch in my stomach—the one that makes me want to be more than friends with him, even if that’s not a good idea.
“My audition was this morning, so I don’t really need to be practicing tonight.
” I watch the red and orange flames; that same flicker of guilt that I felt in the car flashes through me again—that even though my audition is over, I should still be dancing.
Training. Doing something to make sure I’m actually ready to dance in Paris if I get in.
“Well, I’m glad she said yes. We’ve all been a bit worried about you. Grace says you’ve become obsessed with perfecting your routine.”
“I have not.” The words come out snappy, but I don’t take them back and apologize. “Not that it matters. My audition is done.”
He lifts his hands in surrender. “Hey, just repeating what she said. But I do think you could use a break, you look exhausted.”
I look at him then, because I have been feeling more tired than usual.
Mom chalked it up to having four-hour rehearsals most days after school, but there’s a feeling in my gut that makes me wonder if it’s something more.
Like all the times before, though, I brush the feeling aside.
I’ve been tired because I’ve been practicing so much.
“I’ve been working extra hard since I got back from Paris.
This audition determines everything about my future. ”
His jaw tightens at the mention of my Paris trip last summer, but a split second later, the tension is gone—possibly imagined—and he gives me his famous half-smile. “I don’t think that one moment could have such a powerful impact on your future.”
I let out a slow breath. He doesn’t understand. “It does.”
“I mean, don’t get me wrong”—he bumps my knee with his—“I feel that same way every time I send in a song to a different record company, but it goes away. Because I know that even if it’s not this one, maybe it’ll be the next one. I just keep trying.”
“It’s not like that with ballet,” I tell him, pulling on my fingers, which I’ve noticed I do every time I start thinking about the possibility of not dancing in Paris. “If I want to get into the Paris Academy, this is my only shot. They rarely take students who don’t make it on the first try.”
He whistles. “Sounds rough.”
“It is,” I say, and we fall into a silence that makes me wish we were still talking, because now I’m feeling jittery about not dancing, even though my audition is over.
Tucker reaches across my lap and separates my anxious hands, threading his fingers through mine. “I know you did great,” he tells me, squeezing my hand. When he pulls away a second later, the loss of heat is all I feel.
“Hey, Rosie!”
The bubble I always find myself in when he is around pops as I see Meg, Shawn’s younger sister, walking toward us. This might be the senior bonfire, but I forgot that most of the school shows up.
“Meg. Hi,” I say too brightly, and she gives me a weird look. I’m thankful that the sun has set, so the chances of her seeing how red my cheeks are are slim.
“You still coming to dinner on Sunday?” she asks, and I watch as her eyes move between Tucker and me.
Even before Mom thought Shawn would make a perfect boyfriend for me, since our families have been kind of close all my life.
We occasionally do dinner’s at each others houses.
Which is fine, but not my favorite. I’d rather be dancing or with my friends.
But, that’s why pretending to be interested in him made sense logically.
He is trying to make a girl jealous, and I’m trying not to fall harder than I already have for Tucker.
My dad can see right through us, though.
He knows this isn’t what I want, but he hasn’t said anything to me, and since Mom hasn’t asked me about it, I assume he’s kept to himself what he knows—or thinks he knows.
“Probably.” I’m grateful that my voice sounds normal now. “My mom said she’s going to make her famous chocolate cheesecake.”
Meg smiles at me, and from down the beach, one of her friends calls her name. “Awesome! I’ve got to go, I just wanted to say hi.”
“Have fun tonight,” I tell her.
“You too,” she says, glancing between the two of us again before heading off.
With Meg gone, Tucker and I fall into an awkward silence again.
I intentionally stare at the fire for a few minutes before I look at him.
Things have been weird between us ever since I got back from Paris, and I miss how things used to be.
“Wanna dance?” I blurt, startling both of us.
“What?” he asks.
I point to the people I noticed dancing by the water when we arrived. It’s too cold to swim, but some boys pull the girls close to the water, trying to hear them squeal.
“Want to dance?” I ask breathlessly, as if I’ll lose my nerve if I don’t. “With me?”
“Won’t Shawn mind?”
I shrug. “Who’s he to tell me I can’t dance with one of my best friends?
Plus, sitting here is making my mind only think about my audition which is stressing me out because I can’t change anything, and I know dancing will help, especially if it’s not the kind of dancing I normally do.
Especially if it’s with you.” All the words tumble out in a rush.
I need to tell him the truth about how my mom wants me to date Shawn, not me, but I can’t bring myself to say the words .
I can’t read him, even though I’m watching the light of the fire skirt across his face.
I stand up and hold out a hand. “I don’t care what he thinks. I want to dance with you.”
He looks torn for a moment before he jumps up and reaches for my hand. “Let’s do it.” He doesn’t let go as we walk across the sand, and right now, I don’t care if anyone sees.
There’s loud music from a portable speaker when we get to where the people are dancing. I laugh as Tucker throws his arms up in the air and starts jumping up and down.
The rest of the night, we’re like this; a little out of breath, touching each other too much for people who are just friends and for someone who’s supposed to like someone else.
But part of me loves the thrill and fireworks of it all.
I love watching his eyes light up when a song he likes starts playing, and how he keeps purposely bumping into me during fast songs and holding me close during the slow ones.
“I’m really glad we’re friends,” I say as he pulls me into him as “I’ll Be” starts playing from the speaker.
“Me too.” He breathes against me. My head settles against his chest. He’s got one hand on my lower back, the other wrapped around my hand, and I listen to his heartbeat and breathe in the salty air.
Grace finds us after that, saying it’s time to go, and we’re both quiet the whole way home. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about.
Later, after I get upstairs, I finally pull out my phone. I have three texts from Tucker. Two were from earlier in the evening, and one was from just a few minutes ago.
Tucker
We’re here.
NVM, I’ll just come in to get you.
10:35 PM
“I Belong” by Tyler Hilton
I pull up the song on Spotify and close my eyes while I listen, my heart beating wildly.
The last time he sent me a song was back in May of last year.
It’s been nine months, and he’s still sharing his feelings through songs.
My heart nearly stops as I realize his feelings are exactly the same as they’ve always been.
And so are mine.