Chapter 15 #2
“Oh my God,” I mumbled around it, looking to Cooper. He glanced away, cheeks coloring, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.
“He makes them exactly like Mom did,” Benji piped up beside me. My attention swung to him, heart plummeting at the mention of his mom.
He didn’t seem upset, though. He was happily chewing a bite of his pancake, wriggling in his seat.
I wasn’t the only one who’d reacted. Tension hung over the table for a beat, then broke on the next breath, a collective sigh Benji didn’t seem to notice.
“She taught me,” Cooper put in. It was quiet, but not as raw as he’d sounded last night talking about his sister.
“She was obviously a culinary genius,” I said, glancing around the table nervously once the words were out. Was that the right thing to say?
Cooper’s mom smiled. “She was.”
His dad nodded.
The conversation moved on to town gossip, recent weather, what Benji was looking forward to at school next week. Normal things. I learned who was pregnant, who’d gotten new jobs, and that Benji loved math to the point of adorable deviancy.
Cooper glanced at me from time to time, the most gorgeous little smile on his face, eyes as warm as I’d ever seen them.
When breakfast was over, Cooper’s dad shooed the two of us out of the kitchen, telling Cooper to open up the shop ahead of him while he washed up with a meaningful look at me.
Cooper led me out onto the little porch, closed the door behind us, and stood in front of me like a nervous teenager on his first date.
“I had a good morning,” I said, reaching out to catch the tips of his fingers and hold his hand between us. Cooper glanced down at that, then back to my face, a smile spreading over his lips.
“Good,” he said. “Sorry it was crowded.”
“I loved it.”
I love you.
“Seriously,” I added. “Benji remains adorable and I think your folks maybe don’t hate me?”
“They adore you,” Cooper said, no hesitation. “Genuinely, they think you’re amazing. You have no idea how Benji’s improved since you arrived. Did you hear him talking about Laura?”
I nodded.
“That’s the first time he’s mentioned her without crying,” Cooper said, toying with my fingers. “You’ve been incredible for him. Seriously, thank you. I owe you a lot more than a couple of pancakes.”
My heart leapt into my throat, making tears sting at my eyes as I tried to swallow it down. Even when I managed it, it felt a size too big under my ribs, overfull.
“You’re welcome,” I said, squeezing his fingers back. “He’s been good for me, too.”
Another smile spread over Cooper’s lips as he looked over my face. “I really am glad you came.”
“Me too,” I said. I held his gaze for a heartbeat, and then I couldn’t hold back anymore.
I only meant to peck him on the lips, a quick thank you, but the moment our mouths touched, I wanted more. Heat surged through me, the urge to be closer to Cooper making my fingers curl around his neck and my body sway toward his until there was barely an inch between us.
I love you was on the tip of my tongue, and I wondered if he could taste it there, if he could somehow know. When I finally pulled back I took a breath to say it aloud, but a twitch of movement in the lace curtains distracted me.
One of Cooper’s parents?
Or maybe my own imagination, paranoid after years of being a semi-open secret. Of having to keep plausible deniability in the front of my mind.
“I do actually have to open the shop,” Cooper said before I could gather my thoughts, clearly regretful. “But I could bring you a coffee later? After Benji’s class?”
I’d tell him later.
I was running an extra pre-competition class today, since the competition itself was next weekend. There was no such thing as too much practice.
“Almond milk?” I asked, smiling up at him.
“Almond milk,” Cooper confirmed. “I’ll see you then.”
I kissed him again, this time managing to keep it quick and light, and stepped away, letting my fingers linger against his until I was completely out of reach.
We shared a wave goodbye before I turned the corner, grabbing my phone out of my pocket to text Avery about what a magical night and morning I’d had.
Which was when I saw the notification.
Avery: do not look at Instagram this morning
Felix: too late
“What are you scowling about?” Amelia asked the moment she stepped into the studio. I offered her my phone, watching as her brows made a break for her hairline. She glanced at me, then back down at the phone, nose wrinkling.
“Felix, I’m—”
“Don’t,” I said, accepting my phone back and tossing it in my bag so I wouldn’t be tempted to toss it out the window. I’d only just kind of figured out how this one worked, I didn’t want to start over.
Kieran fucking Hendersen. Of all the people who could’ve replaced me.
“He’s—”
“Less than half the dancer I am,” I spat, marching to the barre. “And a fucking weasel. You know it was him who told everyone about Jeannie’s nose job?”
“I know,” Amelia said.
“And who got Maria fired over her side gig,” I added, moving into first position. I wanted to hit something, but this would have to do. “She had to go home to Poland.”
“I know,” Amelia repeated.
“And who’s been sidling up to Piotr for years,” I said.
Fucking Kieran, who was five years younger than me. Who’d always treated me like an obstacle in his way, even when I’d tried to be his friend. Who wasn’t nearly as talented as he thought.
Who was in a dozen photos on the company’s Instagram announcement of their new principle dancer. One of which featured Piotr’s hand so close to his ass he might as well have been fucking him on stage for everyone to see.
I’d been replaced. Of course I had, I had to be. Piotr had his new rising star. I had no doubt Kieran’s career would take off from here.
Like mine had.
But I wasn’t good enough anymore.
Had I ever been?
I shook my head to clear it, taking a breath as I moved into second position like I’d been taught.
Familiar movements. Deep breaths. My class was starting in just a few minutes, and I didn’t want to lose my temper with the kids.
They deserved better than an instructor who snapped at them, especially if it wasn’t because of anything they’d done.
Pain shot up my thigh as I moved into fourth position, a cold spike of agony that made me stumble as spots swam in front of my eyes.
Amelia was beside me by the time my vision cleared, hand on my arm, moving me toward the barre. I grabbed it with both hands, tears stinging at my eyes as I panted for breath.
“Felix?”
“I’m fine,” I gritted out between breaths.
“You’re not,” Amelia said. “You’re pushing too hard. I’m cancelling the class, the competition isn’t—”
“No,” I snapped, louder than I meant to.
The competition was that important. Hadn’t I been thinking that less than an hour ago?
It was Amelia’s future and I owed her for bringing me here, for everything I’d had in this little town. It was also Benji’s, and Aisha’s, and Sarah’s, and Kayla’s, and Ye-jin’s. All the kids in my class. My kids.
I hadn’t come here expecting to care so much, but I did.
“I can do it,” I added, getting my tone halfway under control as the pain started to fade.
“Felix, you’re—”
“Fine.”
I was fine. I’d be fine. I could do this. I’d never dance professionally again. I knew that. But I could do this.
“Felix,” Amelia said, in a tone my mother could only have dreamed of perfecting. “You listen to me. The past is in the past, and you can’t get it back. All you can do is move forward. Your glory days are gone and you have to accept it or you’ll eat yourself from the inside. Look at me.”
I did look at her. I wasn’t sure I could have avoided it when she said it in that tone, firm and commanding. She could have been the Mistress of a serious company, if she wanted.
Should have been, if she hadn’t been forced to retire so early.
“I know what you’re feeling right now. I’ve felt it.
So take some advice from me, okay? You’re going to be in pain every single day of your life, forever, and you can’t just stretch it out.
This is different. If you push too hard, you make it worse.
You could make it worse forever. Is that what you want?
You got tossed in this hole through random bad luck, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep digging. ”
But I wasn’t pushing too hard. I was barely pushing at all. It had been fourth position. I was about to tell a bunch of six-year-olds to do it as a gentle warmup.
“You brought me here to win this competition for you,” I said, the words bitter as they tripped off my tongue. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t like this.
Except maybe I was now. Maybe I was bitter. Maybe I had every right to be. None of this was my fault. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t deserve any of it.
Amelia drew a breath to speak, squaring her shoulders—presumably to give me the chewing out I did deserve for speaking to her like that.
The creak of the door opening and Aisha slipping through it, skipping over to the barre in her little leotard as her mother dropped her bag on the bench, stopped her.
“I’m running this class,” I said, as neutrally as I could. My mouth tasted of ash. “I’m winning this competition. That’s what you brought me here for.”
Amelia pursed her lips, hands on hips, but now Sarah had come in, squealing in delight as she saw Aisha and bounding over to throw her arms around her friend. Argument over.
It didn’t feel at all like a victory, but I had a class to teach.