Page 27 of Hypothetical Heart
“I would. Want to bet?”
“No, not really,” I grimace at the idea. “I don’t want your kidney.”
“Fine, if I can guess what all of them say when we ask if they think we’d be friends without our parents, you have to let me read another one of your books.”
My eyebrows draw together in confusion. “You want to read another one?”
He shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Okay, deal,” I say, shaking his hand before he tells me his guesses.
Logan walks straight into the living room, and true to his word, he correctly assumeseveryone’s answer.
Jameson and Genevieve are both huge fate believers and agree with Logan. We would meet in every universe.
Eloise, on the other hand, doesn’t think so. Her reason is similar to mine; we’re all too different to make the bond on our own.
And Luke, he doesn’t seem too worried about it and asks why we care because all that matters is the fact we’re all friends now.
Remind me never to bet against Logan Callaghan again.
8
My first ballroom dance practice with Winnie goes about as well as a bull in a China shop.
Seriously, thank God there was nothing of value anywhere in the rehearsal room, because I would have found some way to trip and fall over it.
Between the too-fast music and the amount of steps involved, I’m moments away from calling myself a lost cause by the time we leave.
Winnie can move with such grace and fluidity, while I dance like I’m stepping barefoot on gravel with two left feet.
“That wasn’t… awful,” Winnie says as we walk out of the studio. I’m carrying her pink ballet duffle back to the car because she claims it’s just too much work–and also because I just like doing things for her.
“Are you kidding?” I ask, completely out of breath. “Winnie, that was terrible.”
If I thought I was athletic before, I take it all back, because Winnie’s athleticism showed me up today.
“Yeah, it was pretty terrible.” She laughs. “But it was onlyyour first practice. You can only get better from here on out.”
“I’m trying, Win. I’m really trying.”
“I can tell. You were working up a sweat today.”
All throughout practice, I could feel myself trying to overcompensate, to make it seem as if I wasn’t worried about my ability to ballroom dance, but in reality I’m scared out of my fucking mind.
If I screw this up, the person I’m hurting is Winnie, and I would rather put my arm in a blender and put it on the highest speed than cause Winnie any type of hurt.
“Thank god we don’t have to do any lifts, you would slip right out of my hands,” I joke.
“I don’t think I would let you do lifts at the state you’re in,” she teases.
“What days are we practicing again?”
“Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
“And when is the gala?”
“The beginning of May.”
