Chapter 17 #2
Avery repeats her instructions, stepping with me as we begin again. Her hips press forward in an exaggerated motion to show me exactly how we should be moving together. “Follow my lead. Eventually, you’ll be the one leading, but until then, just leave it to me.”
Silently, I try to mirror her, stepping when she does, which leads to a couple of ungraceful toe-smashing moments. Eventually, I kind of get the hang of it. We go on like that, neither of us speaking, for a few more counts—as she calls them—before she has another challenge for me.
“Okay, Ty! I see you! You are honestly… You’re not bad!” Her eyes drag up to mine, bright, shining, expectant. And then she says. “Okay, you won’t be doing this with your mom, but you might be with your wedding date.”
“Don’t plan on having a date.”
“Don’t deprive some girl of a night out just because you aren’t confident with your dancing,” she says sweetly.
“That’s not why. I—”
“I want to see you add some hips! Just so I know full-well what you’re capable of.”
“Hips?”
She nods, staring up into my face with those eager hazel eyes.
I clear my throat and glance off toward the kitchen. My gaze falls on a bottle of bourbon sitting on the counter. Why didn’t I crack that open before she turned her speaker on?
“I’ll lead again,” she says, lowering her voice.
In an instant, her hips are pressing into me, moving from side to side. I try to empty my mind, to remind myself that this is a lesson, nothing more, but my body won’t listen. It wants Avery. I want Avery.
She breaks my spiraling thoughts. “Good, Ty. You’re doing really well.”
Avery steps back, still peering up at me.
I scan her face from her full lips to her upturned nose, the cute little apples of her cheeks that rise up so cheerfully and nearly block her vision half the time.
She’s precious, like something small and delicate that I want to coil up in my hands and protect.
She’s all things good in a world where there’s so much bad.
She’s sunshine embodied. In a place where there’s so much darkness, Avery is a light.
And that’s what she deserves. That’s not something she’d ever find with me.
She smiles at me, and I have to walk away.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Thought a nightcap might be in order since—” I direct my attention to the microwave over the oven. “Since it’s getting late and we both have our first days of the season tomorrow.”
She grits her teeth, her dark brows knitting. It’s impossibly cute. “And just when I was forgetting, you had to go and remind me.”
She trudges to the kitchen, and I follow her, keeping my eyes locked on the bourbon bottle ahead and not on the spandex she insisted on wearing for our lessons.
I pull two rocks glasses down from a cabinet beside the sink. Then I open the fridge and grab the jar of maraschino cherries, dropping a cherry into each glass before covering them with a few fingers of bourbon. Handing her a glass, I raise the other one. “To new friends.”
“And new skills,” she adds.
“To a fresh season,” I say before knocking back the whole glass.
She arches a brow, sipping from her own cup before lifting the cherry out of the cocktail.
“I take it this isn’t really your drink of choice.” I watch as she plucks the fruit from its stem with her teeth.
“I don’t drink much, but if I do, I usually grab for some kind of wine. A red blend or Moscato.”
“So juice?”
She shakes her head. “No. Wine.”
“Those are hardly wines.”
“So if it’s not straight bourbon, it’s juice?”
I nod. “Basically.”
“That’s such flawed logic.”
I smile and pour myself another glass.
“You should smile more,” she finally says.
I turn and peer down at her, willing my face to stay relaxed. “I smile.”
“Not enough.”
“Not everything is worth smiling for.”
She grins up at me, the round part of her cheeks bobbing up. “But I am. Don’t you forget that.”
I smirk. “I’ll try not to.”
She presses her lips together, then heads to the fridge and pulls out a can of ginger ale. “Don’t tell my directors.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
I watch as Avery pours part of the can into her glass before placing the remainder back in the fridge. When she closes the door, I notice two strips of paper flapping with the movement. “You decorating the fridge now?”
“What?” She turns to see where I’m pointing.
“The papers.”
“Oh… They’re tickets. Larissa printed them for me. If I don’t put them somewhere obvious, I’ll lose them.” Avery bites her bottom lip, but a little squeal leaks out before she says, “I’m going to a ball, Ty. A double date. But I’m mostly just going for the vibes.”
“The vibes?”
“Yes! It’s an autumnal ball. Masquerade. Already have my costume picked out. Gonna dance the night away! Practicing that waltz might have been a little for you and a little for me.”
“Sounds fun.” My grip tightens around my glass as I imagine Avery doing all the things we just did with someone else.
I prop myself on the island as she finds a barstool on the other side. We both perch, sipping in silence for a few minutes. It’s been a while since I’ve been up this late with a girl that makes me feel… Well, makes me feel the way that Avery does. Comfortable. Like everything is so easy—even dance.
Finally—and not surprisingly—Avery breaks the silence. “Thanks, by the way.”
“For?”
“For… a lot. Taking me in. Making me feel welcomed in a new place, letting me use your kitchen, not screaming at me when I do something stupid like start a small fire.”
“It’s not stupid. It was an accident.”
She sips again. “It was stupid. Preventable. And you were way more chill about that little screw up than you should have been. Half my exes would have lost their minds over it. Called me dumb, at least.”
The idea of some man calling Avery any type of name riles something up in me that I try to only unleash on the field. Channeling every ounce of zen I can muster, I shrug. “Accidents happen.”
She turns to face me, and for the first time, there are daggers in her eyes. “Ty, don't do that. It was a stupid mistake. Preventable. And I’m sorry.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine. It was preventable, but don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s fine. I already ordered a new pan.”
She stares out into the living room, shaking her head. I follow her sightline. I’m not sure where she’s looking, but something snags my eye. A woven throw blanket. It’s yellow with white daisies stitched all over it.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing.
She scans the room, starting with the window. “Well, that one that you have there is a Moth Orchid, the one to the left of it is a Lady Slipper orchid, and then on the end there…” Her brow furrows. “I could have sworn you had another—”
“No. The thing on the couch,” I quickly add, cutting her off.
“It’s a blanket.”
“Yeah, and what’s it doing out here? I didn’t put it there.”
She shrugs. “This place feels so dismal with all the neutrals. I thought the space could benefit from a little dollop of color.”
“A dollop?”
She nods.
I sigh, not exactly upset that Avery has left her mark. “So you are decorating my place.”
She giggles.
An hour passes before I check the time again, and I realize just how quickly it’s flown by. We’ve discussed everything from her “meh date”—her words, not mine—with whoever this Ryan guy is, to the suit my mom has picked out for me. Which Avery approves of, by the way.
We both stare at my screen at the series of bowties my mom has suggested I choose from. I’m almost lying on the island as I stretch across to show her.
“Yeah, and I’ll have to do this all over again for my sister’s wedding too. If she’s talking to me then.” I scoff. My sister’s silence isn’t pleasant to think about, but bringing it up is like a weight lifting off me.
“Your sister’s not talking to you? Why not?”
I trace a finger around the sticky rim of my glass.
“Because I… I yelled at her. Found out she’d talked to our dad, and I just kind of lost it.
Not something I’m proud of, but it is what it is.
” Am I really going to tell her all this?
When her eyes soften, and she leans forward, I have my answer.
“He’s been gone long enough, I don’t think about it much anymore.
We made it just fine without him, but it still felt like a betrayal. ”
“I’m sure it did.” She shakes her head. “I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to handle that kind of thing. All I know is I’d be mad too. And I may not know her, but I know she loves you. She’ll come around.”
Avery’s words are a reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed. Maybe they’re empty, but she says everything with so much conviction—so much positivity—I can’t help but believe her.
“You said Maggie’s engaged, right?” Avery asks.
“For like the hundredth time to the same guy, yeah.”
“Do you think that maybe she just wanted—I don’t know—what she thinks is a normal wedding? Like with her dad walking her down the aisle and all that.”
Avery’s eyes are full of sympathy but fresh betrayal crackles awake inside me. “We haven’t needed him all these years. Feels a little wrong to have him suddenly show up and walk ten feet to an altar on such a big day for Maggie.”
“Maybe to you.” She lifts her hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to look at it from all sides.”
“Regardless, I now have two weddings I need to make arrangements for and two suits to order. And two presents to choose…”
“Two family weddings to plan for? How exciting! It’s a good thing you’re taking dance lessons then.”
I finish my glass and set it in the sink, the warmth buzzing down my throat and into my system.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s how open and unassuming Avery is, but it’s like I could pour out the darkest part of my soul and she still wouldn’t judge me.
I don’t know if that’s true, but I hope it is.
Having that kind of effect on people is rare, and I find myself wanting to divulge everything that comes to mind straight to her.