Chapter Ten
Sophie
Returning to the real world after spending the weekend with Harlan is a brutal kind of cruelty. As soon as I step into the studio in the morning, I want to turn right back around and leave again.
"I hope you didn't overeat on your little vacation," Greg snaps, eyeing me up and down. "We have a complicated lift, and my back is still fucked up from lifting you last week."
He's a liar and we both know it. Never once has he gotten injured lifting or dancing with me.
He just hates being the man in photographs beside a fat ballerina.
He'd kill for his girlfriend, Jessa, to be in my place.
But even if I left today, she wouldn't replace me.
There are three other ballerinas in line ahead of her, and he knows that, too.
"Hey, Greg?" I bat my lashes at him. "Why don't you go fuck yourself with that superiority complex of yours? It's the only thing on this planet that finds anything about you even remotely attractive."
He opens his mouth to say something else, but I just turn on my heel and move to the opposite side of the studio to start warming up.
Unfortunately, the choreographer is no nicer than Greg. Apparently, my face looks bloated. I'm not keeping up. I'm not arching high enough, my leg isn't straight enough, my feet aren't pointed enough. In short, I'm a disappointing mess.
Greg just smirks through every correction.
By the time we're finished, I'm sweating, and I've never wanted to quit as much as I do right now. Instead, I hang back, waiting for everyone else to clear out so I can practice on my own.
I pause after an hour to check my phone, my heart racing when I see a message from Harlan.
Harlan: I miss you already, ballerina.
I bite my tongue, tears springing to my eyes. God, I miss him, too. So much it's unreal. It feels like a weight on my chest, crushing the air from my lungs.
I try to call him, but it goes to voicemail.
"I just called to say that I love you," I murmur before hanging up. I try to pour all my feelings into the steps, but it's just not working today. To be honest, it hasn't worked in a while. Not since I slapped Greg on stage. Maybe not even before that.
Harlan asked me why I stay if I hate it here. For the first time, I don't think I have an answer. I'm dancing with people who hate me, just to prove a point…and I'm no longer even sure what that point is.
This isn't what dance is supposed to be.
This isn't how it's supposed to make you feel.
I drop to my ass beside the barre, reaching for my phone again. My hands shake as I type out a text to my mom.
Me: I need a favor.
It doesn't even take her a full minute to text back.
Mom: Name it.
I type out and delete my text three different times. And then I settle on:
Me: Can I come over?
Mom: You don't even need to ask, sweetheart. I'll be right here, waiting.
That's the thing I love about her. She's always there, no matter what.
I'm a ball of nerves as I pace the living room where I grew up, too restless to sit, too anxious to stop.
Mom just watches me from her perch on the arm of the sofa, her expression soft. "You look different, Soph."
"I feel different."
"You had a good weekend with Harlan?"
I spin to face her, suspicious. "Who ratted me out? Was it Sidney?"
"Oh, Sophie." She laughs quietly. "Your brothers didn't have to tell me anything. I know you. You were mad enough to spit nails before you left, and no one pisses you off that much unless you care."
"Greg pisses me off."
"That little worm is the exception," she growls, her eyes narrowing. "Is that why you're here now? Did something happen at practice?"
"No. Well, nothing more than usual." I roll my eyes and then resume pacing again. "I think…I guess…" I huff, trying to figure out how to say what I want to say. "I want to quit."
She doesn't say anything, and I'm a little afraid to face her, so I just don't.
"I mean, I don't want to quit ballet. I love ballet," I hurry to say. "I just…I think I need to do it somewhere else. I think…I think…"
"You've had enough," she whispers.
I nod miserably. "I realized today that I'm not supposed to feel like this, Mom. I'm supposed to feel like I did this weekend. I used to be able to block it out and just focus on the parts I loved, but…"
"The other stuff has gotten louder," she says.
"Yeah."
She pushes to her feet, padding toward me on silent feet. "I wondered how long it'd take you to figure it out," she says, pulling me into a tight hug. "I told your dad this was coming after you hit that little snake."
"You did?" I blink at her.
Her lips quirk. "I told you that I know you, Sophie Elizabeth.
You've been restless and unsettled since you hit him.
You have this look in your eyes that you've only ever had once before, back when you were a teenager and left your first studio.
It's like you know you aren't where you're supposed to be anymore, and you won't be able to relax again until you move on. "
"What…" I pause, licking my lips. "What if my place is a person and not a company?"
Her gaze flickers across my face. "You mean Harlan."
"Yes," I whisper. "I…um…I met him right after I hit Greg.
I think he's part of the reason I've felt like this just isn't working for me anymore.
It's not just all the crap I feel when I'm at the company, it's all the crap I don't feel when I'm with him.
I feel…" I trail off, not even sure how to explain it without sounding like I've lost it.
"Happy," she whispers.
"Yeah." I swallow hard. "I feel happy. And terrified. And safe. And a million other things. But I just…I think I want to be where he is, Mom. I'm not giving up on dancing. I'm just choosing me, I guess."
"Oh, Sophie." She cups my cheeks, tears in her eyes. "You can have both, sweet girl. We'll find a place in Los Angeles for you. They'd be crazy not to take you."
"You think so?"
She makes this sound that's part disgust, part disbelief, like I just said something completely ridiculous.
"Are you kidding me? You have one of the biggest fan bases in the dance world, baby girl.
People love you because you're everything they say a ballerina shouldn't be.
You're loud and bold and strong. You don't take shit, and you know what you deserve.
People root for you because they've been told no a million times, too.
But you were brave enough to keep pushing anyway.
You taught people to dream big. The world didn't know your name when you started, but they'll never forget it now.
Believe me, Soph, you'll find a company. "
I cling to her, my throat tight. "I'm scared," I whisper.
"Do it anyway," she whispers back. "Do it for you and do it for the man who put that look on your face."
"I…" I inhale a deep breath and then exhale. "Okay. Let's do it."