Chapter 15
Jase
What do your parents think about you wanting to dance?
They hate it.
—J
Congratulations, you moron. You just blew your chance at a scholarship.
I could have said yes. Charlotte is a good dancer, and she can definitely do the pas de deux better than Zoe.
Unfortunately, Charlotte is a total bitch, and my dislike of her far outweighs my dislike of having to dance with Zoe.
I’ve never liked Charlotte. She’s a nasty person who’s just good at covering it up.
So good that maybe she should be an actress instead of a dancer, but I could see through her relatively quickly when I first got to know her. She’s selfish, manipulative, and mean.
Still, it might have been smarter to say yes. Zoe obviously has a problem, a pretty serious one, and I have no idea how we’re going to fix it. And we have to, because otherwise I can forget my scholarship. That’s not something I can live with.
The note that I gave her was a start, but I don’t really believe it’s the solution. Her answer was waiting for me on Friday night when I got back to my room. But her words didn’t actually tell me much.
What happened?
I had a totally horrible year.
—Zoe
I want to ask her why, but that goes against the rules of the game that we silently agreed on over a year ago.
I know if I ask that question, I won’t get an answer.
If she had wanted to tell me the truth, the whole truth, she would have done it already.
The old Zoe always wrote down anything that was bothering her, no matter how small.
I was the one whose answers were so short they barely counted.
The Zoe I know now is about as communicative as a rock. She looks like she hasn’t slept properly all weekend. I don’t want to make an issue out of it, but I can’t help it. We’re partners, and I need this damn scholarship.
I have to do something, whether she likes it or not. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure I can do something that will help get Zoe out of her shell. I just don’t like it very much.
“You’ve already found your partners. You’re now a pair, a team,” Francesca says, bringing me back to the present.
“Use that to your advantage. Get accustomed to one another—build trust. And now: position!” She points to the middle of the floor, and we follow her instructions and take our places.
Zoe looks at me in the mirror with a mixture of mistrust and skepticism.
Her hair is up in a tidy bun, as usual, and all at once, my fingers are tempted to pull out every single hairpin just to see how her red locks tumble over her shoulders. I clench my hands into fists before my body can act on its own and get me into trouble.
Zoe is still staring at me.
“What’s wrong? What are you looking at, Pixie?
” The nickname comes out of my mouth before I can stop it.
She turns red, and I know that we’re both thinking of the same thing.
She signed her last note with her name. Not P, not Pixie.
But Zoe. And now I just reminded her that she was always Pixie for me and still is, no matter what else has changed.
Fuck.
“Why don’t you want to trade?” she asks, her chin jutting out defiantly. “With Charlotte, you’ll definitely have it easier than with me. I totally suck.”
“You don’t totally suck,” I object. But I save myself the trouble of pointing out that I never said that she sucked. Only her pirouettes.
“That makes me feel so much better.” Her eyes narrow to slits. “So? Why didn’t you change partners?”
“Because Charlotte is Charlotte,” I reply resolutely, as though that explains everything. And in a way, it does.
Zoe bites her lower lip and nods, and I can’t help but stare at her mouth. My mood darkens as I grasp her waist, turning her back toward the mirror and actively ignoring how small and light she feels between my hands.
What I can’t ignore is the trembling that runs through her body. She goes pale, her eyes widen, and all at once, she’s rigid.
“More dancing and less chat,” Francesca says, popping up behind me, her reproachful gaze going from me to Zoe.
We nod simultaneously, and I repress the question that’s burning on my tongue. Now is not the time for questions or secrets.