Bear: Give me attitude and I’ll give it right back, ur choice.
Me: Don’t threaten me with a good time.
Bear: I’ll be out front at 5, sunshine.
I don’t know much about Garrett, but I do know a switch has been flipped, one I don’t want him to turn off.
“Gosh, you know, I really hope this baby doesn’t take after Carter in the size department,” Mom’s busy saying, jotting down notes in her planning journal as I sip my drink and rejoin the conversation. “Poor Ollie will be split right in half.”
My cappuccino slides down the wrong tube, scorching my windpipe. I slap a hand over my mouth to catch the sputtering liquid.
“I think that’s exactly what Carter’s hoping will happen,” Hank supplies. “Nothing would make him prouder than making a monster-sized baby to match his monster-sized—” Hank cuts himself off, skin around his eyes wrinkling as he tries not to laugh. “Sorry, sorry. That boy’s really rubbed off on me after all these years. My Ireland would be washin’ my mouth out with soap for that kind of language.”
I snicker, breaking off a piece of my apple pie muffin.
“Wow, Jennie, are you having lunch with your grandparents?”
My skin prickles at the voice I’ve come to know well over the last four years. Krissy stares down at me with the same self-absorbed grin she always wears, along with her two blonde lackeys, the Ashley’s. Yeah, they’re both named Ashley. Well, technically, one is Ashlee, two E’s.
“That’s so cute,” she continues. “My grandparents used to be my best friends, too, when I was a kid, but I’m older now.”
I sling one leg over the other. “And now that they’ve gotten to know you, they realize they don’t like you all that much?”
Krissy gives me a smile nearly as tight as the ridiculous buns on either side of her head. “You’re so funny, Jennie. We should hang out sometime.”
I hate the way my face lights with intrigue. If I can feel it, she can see it, and I don’t understand my reaction. No part of me desires being part of this clique. Every compliment is backhanded, every conversation a whisper while they’re tucked in the corner of the dance studio, a secret I’m not in on. And yet all these years I’ve struggled with envy for the relationship they share.
Because they have each other, and I have no one.
I don’t need the negativity people like them would undoubtedly bring, but I wouldn’t mind having some people in my life that haven’t come via my brother, ones that’ll take me for me.
Mom’s gaze follows as Krissy and A? sashay away. She blinks at me in silence, several times over, before her expression morphs into outrage. “Did she just call me a grandma?”
“You’re about to be a grandma,” I point out.
“To a baby, Jennie, not a twenty-four-year-old woman!” She swivels in her seat, and I hide my face in my cappuccino. She’s about to demonstrate that she can be as embarrassing as Carter, though she claims he didn’t get it from her. “Hey! Yeah, you there, with the Princess Leia buns! I’m young, okay? I still get my period!” She stands, sweeping both hands down her body. “You wish you could look this good when you’re my age!” She plops back down, slicing an aggressive hand through the air. “Pfft. Grandma.”
“They thought Holly and I were married?” Hank’s grin is so wide as he dusts off his shoulder. “I always knew I was hot stuff.”
And, you see, I’d rather have a thousand Moms and Hanks than one Krissy and two Ashleys.
“Missed you last week, Jennie. Glad you’re back.”
My fingers trail down Simon’s arm to his hand, where he takes mine as I spin away before he pulls me back in.
“C’mon.” He grips my waist, lifting me into the air. The landing feels all wrong, but I push through it. I’m desperate for this to end so I can go home and make Garrett flick my bean. I’m also hoping for snacks. “You really not gonna talk to me?”
I’m really not gonna talk to him.
“No, no, no, no. Stop. Stop the music.” Mikhail, our dance coach, buries his face behind the wad of papers in his hand as silence fills the studio. Eyes closed, he holds one hand up, waiting, and I stand with my hands on my hips, trying to catch my breath. With a heavy sigh, he flings his arms wide, tossing the papers in the process. “What is happening? What is going on? I call you two my diamond dazzlers for a reason. You were born to dance together, and when you do it right, you—” clap, “both—” clap, “dazzle—” clap. “I don’t know what that was, but it was not dazzling.”
Mikhail expects perfection; it’s what he always gave. Born in Russia some fifty-odd years ago, the man’s been dancing since he could walk, and on stage at a professional level for forty-two of those years. He’s magical and terrifying all at once, like a mythical creature, and when he walks through the hall, every voice falls silent. Most people stay in his good graces by simply keeping their mouths shut and doing what they’re told. I’m one of the few that gets to work my charm on him every now and then, but whether it works is a crapshoot I never know the answer to until I’ve given it my best shot.
“Jennie, your ankle looks great, but you’re stiff out there. You’re like a…” He lifts his arms, waving them awkwardly. “Like a damn puppet. It’s horrifying, utterly horrifying. It’s like you’re not comfortable with Simon.”
Correct.
He drums his fingers against his pursed lips, then shrugs. “Should we increase hours this week? Maybe the two of you can book the studio and do some after-hours bonding.”
“I think that’s a great idea, Mik,” Simon eagerly supplies.
“Uh, no.” Oops, meant to think that one, not say it. “I’m just not feeling my best today.” Hand on my stomach, I pull a sick face. “Went to this sketchy sushi place last night and—”
Mikhail holds his hand up. “Was it Sushi Paradise? On Mainland? I swear, that place is the worst.” He claps twice. “Say no more. Let’s call it an early night. Jennie, go home, hydrate, and get an early sleep. Take it easy, you hear? Let someone else do all the work tonight.”
“Can I get that in writing?” I joke, then wave off my own laughter at his expression. Today’s not the day. Garrett would’ve laughed though. I can probably still convince him to do all the work anyway. He likes a full to-do list. I scoop up my things before Simon can say anything that might get him kneed in the nuts, and wave over my shoulder. “Night!”
We’re done a half hour early, so I text Garrett, letting him know I’ll grab the bus. I get a photo of the front of the building from behind a wet windshield, and the words already here, so I make a beeline there, ignoring my name as Simon hollers it.
The snow is heavy and wet, the kind that melts and turns to slush as soon as it hits the ground. My feet slip through it as I make my way to Garrett’s car, and I roll my eyes as Simon bursts out the doors behind me.
“Jennie! C’mon! You can’t ignore me!”
“You know, when people tell me I can’t do something, it only makes me wanna do it harder.” I turn, jabbing him in the chest with my finger. “I’m gonna ignore the fuck outta you, you twat-waffle.”