“Sure, but Simon wasn’t my recommendation.”
I pause, meeting Leah’s excited gaze. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Really? Me?” My bag spills to the floor when I rocket to my feet. “But why?”
“What do you mean why? You’re the most beautiful dancer I’ve seen in years, Jennie.”
I gesture lazily at my face. “It’s the Beckett dimples and charming grin. We’re irresistible.”
Leah snickers and swats my shoulder. “You know what I mean. You dance flawlessly, like you were born to do it. You’re also hardworking, determined, kind, and always willing to help others learn. You’d make an amazing teacher, Jennie, and the opportunities for you there as a professional dancer are endless.”
A professional dancer? In Toronto? My heart patters with excitement and pride that she thought of me, but dread twists my stomach.
“I don’t know…” Turning away, I scoop my things off the floor, tucking them in my bag.
“Jennie.” Leah rips my bag from my hands, stealing my attention. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
With a sigh, I meet her stare. For the first time in my life, I tell someone the truth. “I’m not sure it’s what I want. My family is here.”
“Families live apart sometimes. Your brother isn’t even in the country for half the year. They won’t hold it against you if you take this.”
Of course they’d want me to follow my dreams. But I’m not sure my dreams involve me moving away from the only people I’ve been sure of my entire life, the only ones I trust to love me for me. Vancouver is part of me, this incredible place that’s shaped my life. No matter how much I loved Toronto, I’m unsure it’s where I belong.
“I really appreciate you thinking of me, Leah,” I tell her. “When would I need to decide by?”
“You’d have to fly down in the spring to meet with the faculty. They’d need your decision by the end of term. They want someone there for the summer semester, Jennie. You’d be starting right after graduation.”
“So I have time to think about it?”
“Of course.” She tilts her head, smile curious. “Are you really not sure about this?”
“Just getting a little anxious, I think. About everything, you know? Graduation, getting older, moving…it feels like a new life.”
“Sometimes a fresh start is exactly what we need.” Leah squeezes my shoulder. “Promise me you’ll give it some serious thought.”
I promise I will, but it’s not a safe place for my mind to get stuck right now; it can be easy for me to get lost up there. So when Leah leaves me in the studio, I throw on my headphones and turn the music loud enough to drown out incessant thoughts about a future I’m not sure of.
There’s a certain freedom that comes with dancing when nobody’s looking. Every worry about choices I’m not ready to make melts away as the beat carries me across the studio, my body moving effortlessly in tune with the music. A heavy weight seems to lift from my shoulders as my eyes close, and the tempo pushes me forward, letting me chase freedom at my own pace.
Large hands circle my waist, startling my breath from my lungs. My heart settles back in my chest when Simon’s eyes lock with mine as he gently shifts my headphones off.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “Just me.”
“I thought everyone had gone home.” I start to dislodge from his grasp. “I’ll let you have the space.”
His grip tightens as he pulls my back flush with his chest. “Dance with me.”
Before I can decline, Simon queues my favorite song.
“C’mon, Jennie. Let me have you once more before the weekend.”
“You’re not playing fair with the song choice,” I mumble, his hands guiding my hips, the rhythm of our bodies moving as James Arthur’s smooth voice drenches the air around us, singing about how fast he and his lover are falling in love.
“Don’t think I know how to play fair with you.” He sweeps my braid over my shoulder, fingers brushing across my skin, making it pebble.
Look, I might be immune to his charms, but I won’t deny that—despite the epic level of douchebaggery this man exudes like a horny teenage boy who thinks dousing himself in cologne is the equivalent of a shower—the guy is attractive. Simon is tall and lean, impeccably toned from a life of dancing and intense workouts, of disciplined eating and never taking a break. His light brown hair hangs longer on top, always perfectly styled, blue eyes forever smiling in that boyish, mischievous way that has you wondering what he’s up to.
If we hadn’t been partners for the last four years and I’d been emotionally available, I might have made a decision of horrendously epic proportions and let him into my pants. There were times I’d been horny enough to consider it.
Then I shook the stupid away, loaded up my favorite Lovehoney cart with some exciting new toys, and reminded myself I could fuck me better than any guy could.
And trust me, I do.
“I’ve been thinking about the Valentine’s Day show,” Simon starts.
“Valentine’s Day? It’s November, buddy.”
His chuckle rolls down my neck. “I think we should use this song.”
“You hate this song.”
“Not true. I like it because you like it.”
I slip away from him, fingers trailing down his arm to where he holds me. I can feel his eyes on me as I spin, and then he’s there, pulling me right back in. With ease, he lifts me above his head, fluid like always. We’re one on the dance floor, Simon and me.
I prance across the floor, Simon trailing me as I quietly sing along with James Arthur. I love the picture this song paints of a love so irresistible it’s like gravity doesn’t exist in their world, demanding they fall hard and fast, just like the name: “Falling Like The Stars.” And yet, despite the fall, the way they can’t avoid it or slow it down, they’re safe.
I know that type of love exists; I’ve seen it with my own eyes.
I’m just not sure it exists for everyone.
Simon pulls me against him, lips at the shell of my ear as he whispers lyrics that feel too intimate, leave me feeling uneasy, and I don’t know why.
Then he twirls me around, fingers curling around my hips as he forces me backward. Blood drums in my ears at the feral look in his eyes, and when I stumble over my feet, he presses me against the cold wall.
“Simon, what are you doing?”
Cupping my jaw, he tilts my face to his. “What does it look like?”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I try gently, palms on his chest to keep him at bay. “Let’s say good-bye.”
“You think too much, Jennie. That’s your problem. Just this once, let yourself feel.”
I feel just fine, that’s exactly why I know this doesn’t feel right, and when his lips descend, brushing across mine, I lift my knee, accidentally shoving it in his balls.
Oops.
Simon cries out, grabbing his crotch. “What the hell, Jennie?”
“I said no,” I grind out, shoving against him. One hand is still gripping my waist, and I go tumbling with him, tripping over his legs on my way down. I yelp at the sharp sting radiating through my ankle, clutching it as I spew a record amount of curse words.