Page 38 of Just Like Home

“She’s out with friends.”

She heard an audible sigh on the other side of the door.

“Who are you?” Julianna hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend.

“I’m her brother. Cole?”

He said it as if it were explanation enough. Charlotte’s heart pounded—it was highly unlikely he wasn’t who he said he was, but why was he here in the middle of the night?

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Not really,” he said. “I called but she’s not answering.”

“Where do you live?” She pressed her ear against the door, then looked out the peephole and watched him answer.

“Harbor Pointe,” he said. “It’s in Michigan.”

“What’s the name of Julianna’s dance teacher?” she asked.

He groaned. “I think it’s CeCe or Cecily or something.”

She pulled the door open. “It’s Celia. And you should know that—she’s only the most important person in Julianna’s life.”

He stared at her. She stared back.

Finally, he shrugged. “Sorry?”

“You can wait in here.”

“Thanks.” He held her gaze.

Her heart turned over. Sothiswas what it felt like to be attracted to a boy. She’d never quite understood it before. She didn’t meet many boys outside of dance, and frankly, none of them had ever made her feel like this.

She stepped out of the way so he could come inside. They had a small common area next to the bedroom, and she motioned for him to take a seat. She watched as he slunk down on the small sofa and raked his hands through his hair.

“Are you okay?” She leaned against the wall.

“Do you know how late she’ll be out?” he asked.

Charlotte glanced at the clock. “I think she should be home any minute. She doesn’t usually stay out too late.”

“You sure you don’t care if I wait?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not at all. The remote for the TV is there.” She pointed to it, then started toward the bedroom.

“Why aren’t you with her?” he asked.

She stopped, turning back to look at him. If he hadn’t been looking right at her, she might’ve taken a minute to admire him. He looked like someone who would play the football star in a movie, not like a boy who would be sitting on her sofa in the middle of the night.

Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t go out much.”

“How come?”

“We have a performance tomorrow,” she said. It was almost the truth. She also didn’t go out because social settings only highlighted all the ways she was different, all the ways she didn’t fit in. She couldn’t afford to get distracted, not if she was going to join a company and make it as a professional dancer.

“Doesn’t Jules have a performance?” he asked.

Charlotte nodded.

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