Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Hollie
Seventeen years old
Sweat glistened on my skin as applause rippled through the auditorium. Under the roar and blinding light, Jade squeaked in excitement, gently squeezing my arm. “We did it, Holls!”
When the beat of the curtain call dropped, the varsity troupe at Eclipse Collective stepped forward to mark the end of the winter showcase.
My closest friends and I held hands, bounding forward to receive our due praise.
Lee started the bow stage right and we continued the wave until all of us were laughing, bent at the waist—the rush of adrenaline racing up my spine.
Even though I smiled, a lump of emotions rose to my throat.
All we had left was regionals and the senior recital. Maybe state, if we qualified.
And that was it.
My dancing career would be over.
In the last three months, dancing had become everything to me.
These friends became my family—my safe place—because I couldn’t stand being at home.
The temperature between Mom and Dad oscillated between arctic cold and lava hot.
There were days they tried to hold hands or sway together in the kitchen to a song on the radio, days they couldn’t even look each other in the eye, and on other days you could slice the anger and tension with a knife.
I hated pretending I had no idea what was going on.
I hated when my siblings asked why Mom was crying and I had to blame Peter’s white blood cells.
And the worst part? I hated watching them try.
Seeing them hold hands, sit at the table with their schedule books, or drink decaf coffee on the porch while Dad smoked his cigar made bile climb my throat.
He should be punishing her. Cutting her off.
Teaching her a lesson. No, I didn’t want my family to fall apart, but I wanted justice for my father.
He was being a pathetic doormat.
I couldn’t believe I used to call that conniving, self-centered woman my idol.
That was the part that damaged me the most.
Maybe my dad could be noble and forgiving, but I had no such plans.
Which was why my entire family—save Mom—sat in the audience that night.
When we bowed a second time, my dad’s distinct finger whistle cut through the auditorium like a fog horn.
A chorus of children’s voices singing “Hollie! Hollie!” made me smile.
I didn’t know where they were sitting and couldn’t see past the light.
So I turned my head toward the sound—stage left—and blew the audience a kiss.
My firetruck red, sparkly dress swished around my hips as my troupe disappeared behind the curtain again, whooping and hollering with excitement.
Once the curtain closed and muted the din of our electrified audience, the ten of us gathered in a group hug like a cluster of cherries, our sweaty bodies smushing together.
Tears drummed hot in my eyes until I swiped my fingers over my cheeks.
High heels clipped over the backstage floors as Mrs. Kay, our dance teacher, approached us with open arms—her eccentric personality shining as bright as the stage lights. “Lord have mercy! That was phenomenal. If you all dance like that at regionals, we will go to state no doubt about it.”
After dismissing us to our families, she sidled up next to me, linking her arm through mine. “So, have you thought about what I told you?”
I tried to smile at Mrs. Kay. “Yes, but I haven’t mentioned it to my parents yet.”
She took a sharp breath, her eyes going wide. “Competition is thick. I wouldn’t wait, Hollie.”
“I know.” I looked down, dreading to tell her what I should’ve told her months ago. “I don’t think my grades are good enough. I started the year strong, but there’s a lot going on with my family, and I just…” I shrugged. “I’m trying.”
“Don’t give up. You let me know when you’re ready and I’ll send a reference to Coach Melinda, alright?”
“I know. Thank you.” Dancing with the Denver University Dance Team was a dream of mine—and my grades were good enough to get in, but nowhere close to good enough for a full, or even partial, scholarship. I had about forty dollars and an old beat-up car to my name.
Student loans were an option, but…I shrunk at the idea of incurring that much debt when I didn’t even have a career passion.
All I wanted to do was dance.
Jade’s parents were good people and often hosted parties for the dance troupe.
For a bunch of dancers sugar-spiked on Mountain Dew and Skittles, a party included dance routines, stunts on their trampoline in the bitter cold, board games, a lot of laughter, and Dance, Dance Revolution on the Wii.
Jade’s siblings were present, as was her young and extremely attractive blond uncle, who kept looking my way.
I tried not to notice him as I munched my chips near the game table, but his gaze was heavy.
He sat in the living room, nursing a Yeti cup against his chest. When her parents left the room and went into the kitchen, he stayed.
When my gaze lifted to him, he didn’t look away.
Just raised his glass and tossed me a smile that stole my breath away.
My heart fluttered and my hands grew sweaty.
Lee and Jade finished their turn on the Wii, then squished me between them on the couch.
They immediately launched into conversation but I didn’t say much because her uncle was still watching me.
I should’ve been afraid, but his smile redeemed his shameless staring.
It was a cute, almost guilty smile. My cheeks turned hot red and I hoped no one would notice how flustered I felt.
When I got up to refill my soda, he met me at the table.
“Hollie.”
My gaze snapped to his, my heart jumping to my throat at the sight of his winter blue eyes. He knew my name? “Uh, hi. And you are?”
“My apologies. I’m Jade’s uncle, Garrett.”
I shook his offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He smiled again, endearingly embarrassed. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable with the staring. Um, you are…” His eyes skimmed down my polyester tracksuit before popping back up to my eyes. “Absolutely beautiful.”
My heart tripped in my chest. A man thought I was beautiful? I had no idea what to say. I could hardly think. “Oh. Thank you.”
“And your solo tonight was stunning.”
I dared to glance at him again. “Thank you. I—I love to dance.”
“I came to watch my niece, but…” He scrubbed a hand over his face as he huffed a soft laugh, the sound so self-deprecating that my heart melted a little. “I couldn’t look away from you.”
A deep blush rose in my cheeks. “That’s—very kind.”
“Your passion for dancing is obvious. I hope this doesn’t come across too forward, but I noticed you were crying during your solo.”
I laughed, spreading a hand over my face. “Oh, gosh. Yeah, that’s kind of embarrassing.”
“No, it was incredibly moving. Honestly, you made all the other performances look rather…stiff and lifeless.”
I couldn’t hold my smile back if my life depended on it. “I do get emotional when I dance sometimes. It feels silly, but…I don’t know…” I shrugged. “I guess it helps me process or feel or something.”
“That’s not silly at all.” He smiled. “Taking a nice, long run helps me process. We all need something that helps.”
I let my gaze run over him. He was lean and the edges of his shoulders pulled against the navy Ralph Lauren Polo sweater he wore. He noticed my perusal, smirking slightly when my eyes met his again.
“Do you also cry when you run?” I asked.
He laughed, a sound as rich as dark chocolate. “Only after leg day.”
I laughed then. “I hate leg day, too.”
His attention dropped to my legs, the micro-lift of his eyebrows sending heat barreling through my midsection. Dragging his gaze away, he asked, “So, did your boyfriend get to see you up there tonight?”
I bit the inside of my lip, not missing his cue. “Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Really? That surprises me. I figured these boys would be all over you.” His gaze cut to my friends, specifically Lee—the tall, dark and handsome one.
Finding some courage, I said, “Nope. I’ve never had a boyfriend, if you can believe it.”
He stilled, his expression blanking. But he suddenly smiled again, his tone teasing. “You’re lying.”
I laughed, lifting my drink to my lips. “Think what you want, I guess. But I’m being honest.”
His gaze cut away from me, his cheek feathering. For a moment, he stared off at my friends, like he was making some sort of calculation. In the beat of silence, I didn’t know what to say. I took a long sip of my drink, hoping he would ask something before I finished.
His eyes were serious when he looked back at me. “So, tell me about yourself. When did you start dancing?”
“I was six. My parents started me in ballet, but I learned pretty soon that I preferred jazz and contemporary better.”
“Were they there tonight?”
I looked to the ground. “Just my dad. And my siblings.”
“Your Mom really missed out.”
I laughed, waving off his concern. “No, I asked her not to come.”
He swallowed, his eyes boring into mine. “Sounds like a story.”
It was after midnight when I left the party. A soft beanie squished down my curls, and my heavy duffle strap pressed between my breasts. My tracksuit couldn’t protect me from the bitter Colorado winter, and the cold wind pushed through my skin like daggers.
As my cold hands fumbled with my key chain, someone called out, “Hollie!”
I looked over my shoulder, stifling a smile at the sight of Garrett jogging out.
I pocketed my keys, turning to face him as his steps slowed near the trunk of my car.
He took a steadying breath. “I—wanted to say goodbye.”
Even though I was shivering head to toe, my smile beamed.
We had talked for almost two hours and I learned so much about him.
He was ambitious, kind, and smart—working in finances at a bougie company in downtown Denver.
He listened attentively and asked me questions about my dance, my siblings, and my parents’ marriage issues—which for some reason I told him all about.
If I didn’t know any better, I would think he legitimately liked me.
But he had to be way older than me, right?
When he revealed that he had an undergrad in finance and business management, I figured him to be twenty-three, at least.
Now, his warm breath billowed in the cold. “I hate you have to go.”
“Yeah, it was great getting to know you.” I had to force my teeth not to chatter.
“Don’t go just yet.” He glanced back at the house then took another step toward me.
Shrugging out his coat, he tossed it around my shoulders, pulling it closed.
The fabric smelled like sweet tobacco and spice.
His knuckles brushed against my chin and my heart beat like someone had shot adrenaline into my veins. “I want to talk to you again soon.”
“I’d like that, but…”
He waited.
“Aren’t you a bit older than me?”
His face twisted like my concern was childish. “Not by that much.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
My heart fell in disappointment. “Oh. I’m only seventeen.” Losing the battle against the cold, my teeth clacked between words. “I–I’m the y–youngest in my c–class.”
“When’s your birthday?”
My lips were numb. “C–Christmasss D-Day.”
His gaze sharpened on me. “Here, give me your keys.”
Once I dug them back out, he dropped into the driver’s seat and started up my car, fiddling with the heat until it blew at high speed, whipping my dangling tree air freshener in wild circles.
He stood and popped the collar of his coat around my chin then rubbed his hands up and down my arms, encouraging my blood to flow. “There.”
His touch and nearness scorched my insides like lava. “Thank you,” I murmured, rubbing my lips together to wake them back up.
He stepped closer until we were almost toe to toe. “How about this?” I looked up at him and the cloud of our warm breath mingled in the sliver of space between us. “I don’t want to get you into any sort of trouble. So I’ll wait to reach out until your birthday.”
I nodded.
“And then, once you’re eighteen, I’d like to take you out on a date.”
I couldn’t fill my lungs. A date with Garrett?
We’d talked like two peas in a pod all evening and he was part of my best friend’s family.
Of course I wanted to go on a date with him!
I tried to imagine what my parents would say about our age gap.
But how could I refuse him after he was respectfully waiting until my birthday to call on me?
That was so thoughtful and proved his intentions were good.
And after all, once I was eighteen, I was free to choose for myself.
A smile pulled into my frozen cheeks. “Okay.”
His grin widened, relieved. “Can I get your number?”
“Sure.”
He pulled out his phone from his back pocket and typed in my number as I spouted it off. Then he flashed another guilty smile. “Sorry I made you stand in the cold for so long.”
“It’s fine. Your coat is warm.”
“You look better in it than I do.”
The wind whisked away my breathy laugh.
“Don’t meet anyone in the next thirteen days.”
The endearing softness had vanished from his expression. I frowned. “What do you mean?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ll break my heart if you’re off the market by Christmas.”
“Oh, I w–wouldn’t w–worry about that.”
“I’m very worried.” He reached a hand up, bracing it behind me on the side of my car. He leaned closer, effectively blocking the wind. Body heat radiated from him even though he only wore a sweater. My breathing shallowed as his gaze fell to my lips. “And I have every reason to be.”
He lifted a hand, cupping my chin with his cold fingers. He skimmed my lower lip with the pad of his thumb. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. I’d never been kissed before, but I suddenly hoped with my entire heart that Garrett would give me my first.
My head spun with unreality. How could this fine, accomplished businessman want me?
I felt like I’d walked into a romance movie.
His hooded eyes drew nearer, his face pressing closer until his warm lips gently brushed over mine—respectful, quick, feather-light. I blinked in the aftermath as his minty breath washed my face. Finally, he whispered, labored and raspy. “Goodnight, Hollie.”
I couldn’t speak if my life depended on it. He opened my driver’s door for me and I stumbled into it, melting into the cracked leather seats as he lifted his hand to wave through the window.