Chapter Four
I’m lying on our rock, overlooking the river.
My wet skin is an eruption of goosebumps.
The warm slab, baking in the sun, is a relief.
A shadow interrupts the sun, and I instantly feel its absence.
I squint my eyes open. Jonathan is propped on his hand, looking at me.
Really looking at me, for the first time in my life.
The way I’ve forever been looking at him.
“What?” I ask, not trusting that I truly see the glint in his eye.
“Today’s been fun.”
“Um, yeah,” I answer. My stomach is a fluttery mess.
I’m hoping my fantasy isn’t distorting my reality.
But he’s right. Today has been fun, cliff jumping in the river.
Talking. Laughing. Having lunch on our favorite rock.
It’s not because we never do this. We pretty much live here during the summer.
But this is the first time it’s been just the two of us.
Collin’s always with us. Which I love because I love him.
He’s the other half of me in a way only a best friend can be.
But today, he had to help his grandfather install new AC units, and that left just Jonathan and me.
And, well… something shifted. It’s like without Collin here to add his humor to every moment, we were left with the truth of what we could be. What I’ve wanted us to be. And I think—I hope—he sees it too.
The way he’s looking at me right now, he has to know.
I sit up. He doesn’t lean away to make space for me. He stays where he is, and we’re inches apart.
I look from his dark eyes to the water dripping from his mouth. His lips part just enough for air to enter as he inhales deeply.
I slowly lean in, giving him a chance to choose. To stop this before it happens.
He doesn’t. He meets me in the middle. Lip to lip. Breath to breath. His hand slides over my slick skin to the small of my back. Mine is pressed to his warm chest, his heart beating as quickly as my own.
We’re slow. Careful. Lips pressed together, pulling apart. Finding each other again. Then our mouths connect until we can’t breathe. I don’t need to breathe. Ever again if I can just stay here, captured in this moment for all time.
When we part, my eyes are reluctant to open, still convinced that I’ve fallen asleep on the rock and this is just another dream to add to the library of moments we’ve never shared.
He’s still in front of me when I blink back to reality. Grinning. “That was fun too.”
“Definitely.”
Why do you look like that?”
“Um… what?” I blink back to the mountain of pink and purple tulle covering my lap.
Danika raises her brows, setting down the costume she’s been bedazzling for the past half hour. “You’ve been weird for a while now. What’s going on with you?”
I bite my lip, debating if I should finally tell her. She’s going to figure it out eventually. I’m actually surprised Danika hasn’t already—but then again, she’s been pretty distracted with Oren since they started dating last month.
Danika’s the only person who knows how I really feel about Jonathan. Other than Collin. But he doesn’t count. He does. But not really because it’s like he’s a part of my brain at this point in our friendship.
“Jonathan and I kissed.”
Danika collapses dramatically to the side, splayed on the costume closet floor, lost in a mountain of tulle. “Finally.”
I roll my eyes.
“When did it happen?”
“This summer.”
Danika shoots up. “And you didn’t tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wasn’t sure what it was. It felt… breakable. And I didn’t want it to shatter before I knew.”
“And? Did you kiss again?”
I nod.
“Is it still breakable?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, I think we’re together.”
Danika closes her eyes and shakes her head, like she’s conjuring her patience from somewhere deep within. “You two are the most frustratingly confusing people on this planet. You’ve been best friends for forever, but you can’t seem to talk about things that really matter.”
“That’s not true.” I’m defensive. Overly defensive. Probably because it’s true and I hate that it is. “We talk.”
“No. You and Collin talk. You and Jonathan feel.”
“And that’s bad?”
“Only that you don’t really tell each other how you feel.
And that’s why when you finally express it with something as simple and meaningful as a kiss, it becomes breakable.
Don’t you know communicating is the foundation for anything truly lasting?
It’s the bane of every movie and romance novel—if only the couple talked, then there would never be a reason for all the misunderstandings. ”
“Or for the story,” I add unhelpfully.
“Do you want to be a heartbreaking romantic tragedy that fractures because you refused to talk to each other?” Her voice is breathy and melodramatic.
“No.” And mine sounds like a petulant child.
I’m sulking because I know she’s right. But how do I do this?
Talk to him in a way that will make him want to talk back.
Sounds pathetic when I think about it. In my defense, we’ve always had this connection without words.
Words never felt necessary because we always just understood.
But we obviously didn’t. Otherwise, we’d have been together six years ago.
Maybe we weren’t meant to be together then. Maybe that was when we would’ve been too fragile. And we needed these years to create this bond that can never be broken. Or maybe I’m unwilling to face the truth.
We need to talk.
“He’s calling me tonight.” I’ll just straight-out ask him if we’re a couple. I groan and flop back against the pile of repurposed dance costumes behind me. That sounds so stupid.
“Oh, wow. You’ve made so much progress.”
I startle back to sitting. Nina stands in the doorway of the costume room, appraising our work with a smile.
“We’re nearly done,” Danika reports, holding up her costume for inspection, making sure the gems are spaced evenly.
“This is wonderful. Truly.” Nina looks to me. I smile back. We offered to repurpose tutus for the upcoming showcase, and Nina loved the idea of promoting substantiality. I didn’t realize what I was committing to at the time. “The studio is free for you now.”
“Go ahead,” Danika tells me. “I’ll finish up here. There’s only a few left.”
I stand, stretching my stiff legs. “Thanks.”
“Call me,” Danika says before I can leave.
I nod and follow Nina into the hall.
“Place the key in the office before you go. You may be closing up tonight. Are you okay with that? The door will lock automatically behind you.”
“That’s fine,” I tell her, taking the studio key from her.
I’m already in my dance leotard, so I can take advantage of every second of studio time now that it’s available. I grab my bag from beneath the bench in the hall and say goodnight to Nina before entering. I inhale the scent of polish, hardwood and magic.
My shoulders naturally relax, and calm sweeps over me. Plugging my iPod into the audio outlet for the speakers, I select the playlist and begin preparing my feet to slip into the pointes.
I spend the next two hours in a blur of glissades, jetés and pirouettes.
I requested an hour. But knowing I’m the only one here, I take advantage.
I dance until my muscles burn with a blissful ache.
And my skin is shimmering with sweat. I’m glowing with elation when I fold over my extended leg on the floor, my heart beating as fast as a hummingbird’s.
Nothing makes it react this way. Well, almost nothing.
Jonathan’s never seen me dance. He and Collin have asked, but after being denied year after year, they stopped asking.
It’s not that I’m embarrassed. When I dance, I’m transported.
I live within the movements. Float between the notes.
And if I knew Collin and Jonathan were sitting in the audience, I’m afraid I’d be so preoccupied with their attendance, I’d lose that magic. I’m too afraid to risk it.
That’s what I always thought about Jonathan as well, before we kissed this summer.
I didn’t want to risk us. And I’m still deciding if that was the right choice.
If it’s changed us too much. That’s not saying that kissing him is torture.
Far from it! But we haven’t been the same since. And I miss how easy it was to be us.
Where have you been?” my mother asks before I can close the door.
“At the studio. I told you this morning.” I hang my jacket and drop my bag on the floor.
“But you were supposed to be home an hour ago.”
I falter in my steps when I see the elaborate table setup. Crap. I forgot we were having Dad’s partners over for dinner tonight, as a sort of send-off before his campaigning begins.
“Hurry up and change. They’ll be here soon.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I completely forgot.” I sweep a quick kiss across her cheek as I bustle by, racing to my room.
I don’t have time to shower, so I wash my face, keep my hair in a neat bun on the top of my head and throw on a dress, not bothering with makeup.
At this point in my life, having experienced way too many dinners, I know I’m just decoration.
An accessory. Not more useful than a clutch purse.
Something that makes the outfit, holds a few essentials, but doesn’t have any real function.
The two other partners and their wives are already in the sitting room with glasses of wine when I come back downstairs. As if my presence is the cue they’ve been waiting for, Magda whispers to my mother, who announces dinner’s ready.
Magda gives me a small smile, knowing what this is like for me. She’s been working for my family my entire life—actually before I was born. She knows everything. Or pretty close. I honestly wouldn’t want to know half of what she’s witnessed over the years.
“It’s so nice to see you again, Sadie,” Jocelyn says, her face tight and lips swollen from whatever treatment she recently had done. “You look so grown up. Makes me feel old.”
How does someone respond to a comment like that?
No, you look amazing. Your plastic surgeon is a genius.
I just smile politely in return. The less I say, the better.
Silence is like wearing a cloak of invisibility.
The clutch purse isn’t held all night. Eventually, it gets left on some table or stashed in a dark corner.
“I hope you don’t expect us to continue on with your pro bono cases, Eli,” Kenneth says with forced humor, but we all know he’s totally serious. “Heard the police are asking about Reeves again, something about breaking a kid’s arm.”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” my father answers and immediately opens his mouth to change the subject.
“You’ll need to make some new friends, Sadie, now that your dad’s going to be in the public eye,” Kenneth continues as if my father never spoke. “Don’t want to be associated with the unsavory clientele we represent.”
My mother covers her mouth to stifle a cough. A signal to my father to redirect the conversation immediately.
I swallow the food in my mouth. It’s lost all flavor.
Every set of eyes is on me, except for my parents’.
My stomach feels bottomless and swirling with nerves.
I shouldn’t be surprised that they all know about Jonathan and Collin.
They work together. But I guess, naively, I hoped my dad had protected the guys from being discussed in the weekly meetings.
That it’s something he does because he cares about them as much as I do.
And he believes they’re really not bad. They just have the worst luck.
Always in the wrong place, pulled into the wrong situations a little too often.
But now I know, it was never just between us.
“I like my friends,” I say with a note of cheer to let him know he can take his statement and shove it.
“As do I,” my father adds, giving me a wink. “More wine, Shamus?” My father picks up the bottle and tops his former partner off, effectively ending the conversation.