Chapter 2
i am cursed
RILEY
Now
Leaning against the wall, I whisper, “One, two, three. One, two, three.”
Some of my five-year-old students are putting their all into following the counts to “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” from The Nutcracker.
Others are fully immersed in their own world.
As they chassé across the floor in pairs, tiny arms flailing, heads held high, I swear, they think they’re dancing at the Lincoln Center.
When Amari tries a piqué turn and nearly crashes into the mirror, I fight back a giggle. When Rina and Elma do grand jetés that are mostly enthusiastic leaps of faith, affection floods me. Honestly, it’s pure glittery chaos with this bunch, but that’s what makes it perfect.
The last notes fade, and I clap. These little ladies deserve praise for all their hard work. It’s fascinating to watch them as they learn to pirouette, plié, and passé, probably because it brings back childhood memories and memories of watching Story dance.
A mental note to myself: I need to call my niece. It’s been ages since we actually talked.
A little body launches itself at me, and the movement tears me out of my thoughts. Sofia, a little blonde-haired devil, wraps her tiny arms around my legs.
With a pat on her back, I scan the class. “You were incredible. I’m so proud of every one of you.” I brush Sofia’s curls from her face with my fingertips, and with a big smile, she releases me. “That’s it for today, sugarplums. Shoes off, stickers up front, and don’t forget to thank your parents!”
The group breaks into a collective squeal, and then they stampede toward the sticker bin.
I can’t help but laugh. This right here is why I became a teacher.
Sometimes, I miss being on stage, sure, but the satisfaction and fulfillment I get doing this outweigh that sadness.
I may not perform anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t dance.
I’m only twenty-four. When I dance these days, it’s without the weight of expectations or jealousy.
“No wonder it’s so loud in here,” Nastya says from the doorway. Kids usually call her Miss Ana or Anastasia, but when we met shortly after she moved to the US from Belarus, I asked her what name she prefers, and I’ve stuck with it. It’s the one her parents and friends use.
She’s dressed in black leggings and a loose tee, her red hair in soft waves over her shoulders.
“I’m being attacked by glitter and giggles.”
“Aww, death by cuteness. Could be worse.” She gives me a quick hug and plants a kiss on my cheek. Then, she settles beside me, her back pressed to the wall and her arms crossed. “So?”
I arch a brow, pretending I don’t know what she wants.
“I need the details. Spill. Finance Guy. Third-date guy. Whatever we’re calling him now.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. “He has a name, you know.”
“This early on, I don’t care about his name. I’d rather not overload my poor brain with useless information if you give him the boot.”
Snorting, I brush sparkles off my leggings.
“Did he talk about crypto again, or has he moved on to NFTs?” She presses her hand to her chest. “Or wait—did he give you investment tips?”
“Goodness, why are you always so negative?”
“It’s easier this way. Less disappointment, since I never expect anything good in the first place.” She winks at me. “You’ve known me for six years. Why are you still surprised?”
“I love you.” I blow her a kiss. “Actually, Will was nice. We talked for a few hours, and he spent most of that time asking about me. What I do for a living, what my interests are. He even had opinions on Broadway musicals, and they were valid. Pretty sure there will be a fourth date once he comes back from his business trip. I’m into him, and it’s real this time. ”
“Wow. Love the progress.” She gently pats my shoulder. “Did you have a chance to ask about his past relationships? He’s ten years older, right? I can imagine he’s got a good amount of baggage.”
“You’re gonna love this. I think I finally found a guy who isn’t allergic to honesty when I ask the tough questions.” I grin. “He’s divorced and has a daughter. When he talked about his little girl, his eyes lit up. The man loves his kid. In my book, that’s a green flag.”
Nastya stares at me, her expression giving away how unimpressed she is.
I roll my eyes. “You don’t even have to speak. Your face says it all.”
“My face?” She feigns offense. “Ry, I’m from Eastern Europe. Rumor is, we never smile. We’re always grumpy because we’re never happy.”
“Ha,” I say. “That couldn’t be farther from the truth. You’re just selective about who you give your smiles to. And your face has its own subtitles, even when your mouth is shut.”
“And now, Piper thinks I’m rubbing off on you.” She winks at me.
The ruckus in the room grows louder as parents file in and the girls take turns telling me goodbye. It’s utter chaos, but I’ll miss this energy during summer break. I love my job, and I love these girls more than anything.
So, I kneel and say my goodbyes. I revel in the warm hugs the girls give me and remind them of how wonderful they are, making sure they know I can’t wait to see them again.
Nastya observes silently, like she often does. The friendship we created our freshman year at the New York School of Performing Arts means more to me than I ever could’ve expected.
Just as the last of the families have gone, the door swings open again, and I see him: Finance Guy, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his dark brown hair slicked back. He stands in the doorway with Rosie, a student who joined my class about a month ago.
He rests a hand on her shoulder, and the movement draws my attention to the gold band he must have forgotten to wear on any of our dates. He freezes, his light-blue eyes widening in shock.
“Erm, hi,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Rosie wanted to introduce me to her favorite teacher.”
Rosie’s mom, who must be this asshole’s wife, appears at his side and wraps an arm around his torso.
Her curly blonde hair spills over his shoulder as she sets her head on it.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Evans. Rosie’s super busy dad finally found time to come pick her up, and she was so excited for him to meet you. ”
I force a smile, keeping my attention on her.
“That’s absolutely okay. Rosie is wonderful, and she learns so quickly.
I’m sure she’ll catch up to the girls who started at the beginning of the year in no time.
” I meet the fucker’s eyes. “And it’s so great to meet Rosie’s dad.
Thank you for finding time in your super busy schedule. ”
His mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, keeping my tone so sweet, it makes my teeth hurt.
With a steadying breath, I crouch and hold my arms out for the little girl. “You were amazing today, Rosie. Your turns are getting so good.”
She rushes to me and squeezes me tight. Her mom can’t stop smiling while her father looks downright uncomfortable. Once they finally leave and the door closes, I let out a deep sigh. My shoulders droop, the heaviness in my chest growing tenfold.
Another disappointment. Am I really surprised, though?
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shudder involuntarily and snap my head up. I’ve been so caught in the moment, I totally forgot my best friend is still here.
“What’s wrong?” Nastya struts over to me, her brows pinched in concern.
“I guess there won’t be a fourth date.”
Her mouth forms a little O. “No way. That was him? Finance Guy?”
Lips pressed together, I nod.
“The ‘divorced’ one? With the little daughter he loves so much?”
“Mm-hmm.”
She mutters in Russian. “Ya v ahue.”1
I’m one hundred percent sure she’s cursing. She never slips into her native language otherwise.
She throws her hands in the air. “Dammit, Ry. What are you, a magnet for liars with commitment issues?”
“I think I’m cursed.” I sink to the floor and slump against the wall. “At this point, I’m one heartbreak away from adopting ten cats and starting a podcast about my nonexistent dating life.”
“Oh, please.” She huffs. “You know you’d get a Pomeranian. You can’t handle cats. You’d never survive the hairballs. I’m talking from experience, and you know I love my cat.” She sits beside me. “I’m so sorry, babe. I’m so fucking mad this shit keeps happening to you.”
“I haven’t been in a relationship since…junior year. And even that wasn’t anything more than a three-month stint of hooking up and going out for pizza and drinks.” I will myself not to cry. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Hey.” Nastya shifts and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Look at me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from falling apart in front of her.
“There is nothing wrong with you. You are brilliant. Smart. Beautiful. Talented.” She rubs her hands up and down my arms. “You’re kind and compassionate.
The person who sees all of you, who appreciates you the way they should, will be the luckiest in the world.
Don’t waste your time or energy thinking about the finance idiot.
He doesn’t deserve it. Thank God you’ve only been out with him three times.
Imagine if you’d been together for three months?
Or three years?” She pulls me in for a hug.
“Because some people, my girl, hide their true nature way too well.”
Despite the way my chest aches, I can’t help but smile as I bury my face in her hair.
“You’re my best friend in the world,” I whisper.
“And you’re mine.” When she leans away, her green eyes sparkle with mischief.
Knowing that look all too well, I ask, “What do you have in mind?”
“We’re going out Friday.” She stands and holds out a hand to me. “You. Me. Tequila. And someplace we can dance the night away.”
“Grant won’t mind?”
“My husband knows how important you are to me, and he loves you too.” She helps me to my feet. “And since when do I need his permission? We’re partners; forbidding each other is not our style.”
“I admire your marriage so much. Yours and Piper’s.” I sigh. “You make me hopeful that maybe one day, I’ll meet my person too.”
Head tilted, she gives me a sympathetic smile. “You will. I wholeheartedly believe it.”
My phone buzzes on the desk, snagging my attention, so I shuffle across the room and pick it up.
Piper:
Hey. Can you do me a favor?
I talked to my sister this morning on my way to the studio, and she didn’t mention needing a favor. This can’t be good.
Buzz.
Piper:
Could you go check on Hade? We’re worried. He’s not picking up again.
I stare at the screen.
Usually, I wouldn’t mind. Hade is not only my sister’s best friend, but he’s also her husband’s brother. Plus, I’ve known him since I was a little girl. Finding his friend, his bandmate, Owen, dead after he committed suicide four months ago has taken a toll on him.
But Hayden is the last person I want to see tonight. I’m already a mess, and being near him will only make it worse.
“What is it?” Nastya asks.
“It’s Piper. Hayden isn’t picking up again.” Sighing, I turn to face her. “She asked me to check on him.”
Nastya narrows her eyes. “He’s still struggling?”
There’s no judgement in her voice, only concern.
“Yeah, and the media frenzy only made it worse. All the articles and pictures…” I shudder.
Celebrities really have no privacy, not even in death.
Pictures of Owen’s hotel room circulated within hours, and the photos from the cemetery were so hard to look at.
How insensitive. I was sick to my stomach after seeing them online.
“I could never be as cool with all the attention as Piper was when she and Hunter got together, and I can’t imagine living under a microscope the way Hayden does. ”
“Being famous is great until you become the paparazzi’s target,” Nastya comments. “Their hunt for Hayden after was fucking disgusting. I can’t imagine how it was for him, but…I’m worried about you.”
I hold her gaze, not letting my apprehension show. “I’m fine.”
“We both know you’ve had a crush on him forever. And with how often you see him, I’m afraid you’ll get hurt.”
I rub my hands down my thighs, looking away. The empty feeling in the pit of my stomach anytime Hayden is involved only spreads, making my skin itchy.
“He’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. But I don’t think of him in that way, and he doesn’t see me in that way either. I’ll always be Piper’s little sister to him.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m skeptical.”
A short laugh escapes as my nerves get the best of me. Her skepticism isn’t a good sign. It never is. Nine times out of ten, she ends up right.
“You always are.” I collect my things from the desk and head toward the door. “Let’s go change. I don’t want to get to Hade’s place too late. I have an early morning class tomorrow.”
Lips pursed, Nastya studies me for a moment then nods. “If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re stubborn. I should know by now not to try to convince you of anything.”
I shoot her a wink over my shoulder. “True.”
We head to the locker room, chatting about our plans for Friday. I’m grateful for the distraction from thoughts of Hayden. I’ll be consumed by them soon enough.
When I’m alone, they’ll come rushing back. Because with the way my heart flutters when he’s around, it’s clear the feelings I’ve had for him since I was ten never dampened.
Hayden Hale was my first unrequited love, the object of all my affection for far too long, while I’m the girl he’s never noticed.
1 I’m in shock (cursing)