Page 8 of Part of Forever
I want to dance.
He wants to sing.
“It’ll be amazing,” I say, and then we fall into a comfortable silence, chiming in occasionally to whatever Grace and Nathan are talking about next. Leo drives, singing along to every song on the radio. I smile, but I can’t help but feel that familiar tug that makes me wish I was still dancing in the studio.
My brother disappears almost as soon as we get to the beach, calling out to us that he’ll catch up with us later, but that he wants to meet up with his new boyfriend first. Grace suggests we head over to the fire, which I readily agree with because the slight ocean breeze makes me shiver.
She grabs Leo’s hand and we follow them across the darkbeach; when they stop to talk to one of Leo’s surfing buddies, we continue to the fire.
“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Tucker says. He’s got his hands in the front pockets of his jeans again, and my heart speeds up as I look at him. I think about Shawn as I scan the beach, all too aware of how closely Tucker stands by me. Even if Shawn could have come tonight, I probably still would have come with my friends and he would have shown up with his. That usually happens when my mom forces me to attend an event with him.
“Wanna sit?” I ask and wring my hands together, trying to ease my nerves about being alone with him.
It’s not like we’ve never been alone before. But there’s an energy between us that feels different tonight. It’s felt like this since the end of last school year when we somehow became more than friends after he went to prom with someone else. It’s like that date made him realize he wanted to be with me. I’d been mostly keeping my feelings pushed down up until that point. We started flirting then, and he gave me the perfect first kiss on the Fourth of July, but then I went to Paris, and everything changed. Maybe it’s because my audition is over. Maybe I could be with him for real if I wanted to now. But I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I’m not ready to mess up our balance of being friends who flirt sometimes, because if something went wrong, I’d lose one of my best friends. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
“Sure,” he says, and I follow him to the benches surrounding the huge fire. The sun has set, and the sky is now a deep purple. My classmates are everywhere, most of them carrying red cups that are probably full of cheap beer.
“So this is the big senior bonfire.” He gestures around us, taking it all in. “And your mom let you come?” he asks as we sit on a large log near the fire.
My leg brushes against his, but neither of us moves away from the other. I wish it didn’t feel so comfortable being here with him, but I can’t help how I feel when I’m around him; it’s like myrational brain decides to quit. At least I can somewhat keep up with the small talk.
“Yeah.” I watch the flames, trying to get Mom’s face out of my mind as I look down at my hands. “Mom is dedicated to me becoming a great dancer, and, I mean, I am too. But she has me practicing at five most mornings, so going out late isn’t usually an option.”
“But tonight?”
I glance at him as he asks me this, and when his blue eyes meet mine, I feel that familiar lurch in my stomach—the one that makes me want to be more than friends with him, even if that’s not a good idea.
“My audition was this morning, so I don’t really need to be practicing tonight.” I watch the red and orange flames; that same flicker of guilt that I felt in the car flashes through me again—that even though my audition is over, I should still be dancing. Training. Doing something to make sure I’m actually ready to dance in Paris if I get in.
“Well, I’m glad she said yes. We’ve all been a bit worried about you. Grace says you’ve become obsessed with perfecting your routine.”
“I have not.” The words come out snappy, but I don’t take them back and apologize. “Not that it matters. My audition is done.”
He lifts his hands in surrender. “Hey, just repeating what she said. But I do think you could use a break, you look exhausted.”
I look at him then, because Ihavebeen feeling more tired than usual. Mom chalked it up to having four-hour rehearsals most days after school, but there’s a feeling in my gut that makes me wonder if it’s something more. Like all the times before, though, I brush the feeling aside. I’ve been tired because I’ve been practicing so much. “I’ve been working extra hard since I got back from Paris. This audition determines everything about my future.”
His jaw tightens at the mention of my Paris trip last summer,but a split second later, the tension is gone—possibly imagined—and he gives me his famous half-smile. “I don’t think that one moment could have such a powerful impact on your future.”
I let out a slow breath. He doesn’t understand. “It does.”
“I mean, don’t get me wrong”—he bumps my knee with his—“I feel that same way every time I send in a song to a different record company, but it goes away. Because I know that even if it’s not this one, maybe it’ll be the next one. I just keep trying.”
“It’s not like that with ballet,” I tell him, pulling on my fingers, which I’ve noticed I do every time I start thinking about the possibility of not dancing in Paris. “If I want to get into the Paris Academy, this is my only shot. They rarely take students who don’t make it on the first try.”
He whistles. “Sounds rough.”
“It is,” I say, and we fall into a silence that makes me wish we were still talking, because now I’m feeling jittery about not dancing, even though my audition is over.
Tucker reaches across my lap and separates my anxious hands, threading his fingers through mine. “I know you did great,” he tells me, squeezing my hand. When he pulls away a second later, the loss of heat is all I feel.
“Hey, Rosie!”
The bubble I always find myself in when he is around pops as I see Meg, Shawn’s younger sister, walking toward us. This might be theseniorbonfire, but I forgot that most of the school shows up.
“Meg. Hi,” I say too brightly, and she gives me a weird look. I’m thankful that the sun has set, so the chances of her seeing how red my cheeks are are slim.
“You still coming to dinner on Sunday?” she asks, and I watch as her eyes move between Tucker and me. Even before Mom thought Shawn would make a perfect boyfriend for me, since our families have been kind of close all my life. We occasionally do dinner’s at each others houses. Which is fine, but not my favorite. I’d rather be dancing or withmy friends.
