Page 28 of The Last Pirouette
“I feel like I’m just… a shell of who I used to be. Like I’m wearing someone else’s skin.”
Tears pricked at her eyes, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed by her sudden outpouring of emotion.
Liam reached across the table again, gently taking her hand. “Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
She hesitated, then slowly raised her gaze to meet his. His eyes were filled with warmth and understanding, with a depth of empathy that surprised her.
“You’re not a shell, Quinn,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re… you’re still Harper. You’re still talented and passionate and… and fiercely independent. And yeah, maybe you can’t dance like you used to, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find something new. Something that makes you feel alive again.”
His words resonated deep within her, striking a chord that had been silent for too long. She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw past the cocky grin and the easy charm. She saw a scared, vulnerable person who was struggling with his own demons, just like her.
And in that moment, she realized that they weren’t so different after all. They were two broken people, clinging to each other in the hopes of finding something to hold onto.
“Thanks, Liam,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I… I needed to hear that.”
They finished their ice cream in a comfortable, meaningful silence, the weight of their shared confessions settling between them not as a burden, but as a bridge.
Liam walked Harper back to her dorm, the evening air cooling as the sun dipped below the horizon. The campus was quieter now, the sounds of the day fading into the stillness of the night.
Under the soft glow of a lamppost, he stopped, turning to face her. He gave her a small, sincere smile. “Thanks for listening, Quinn,” he said. “I… I really appreciate it.”
Harper smiled back, her heart filled with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Anytime, Hayes.”
They stood there for a moment, a few feet apart, the unspoken understanding and newfound intimacy creating a palpable tension.
“Well,” Liam said, shuffling his feet. “I guess I should… get going.”
“Yeah,” Harper said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me too.”
They lingered for another beat, their eyes locked, before Liam finally turned and walked away.
Harper watched him go, her mind racing, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew that something had shifted between them, something profound and significant. She just wasn’t sure what it meant.
As she turned and walked towards her dorm, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was standing on the edge of something new, something exciting, and something terrifying. And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to take the leap.
Chapter 18
The physical therapy room was stark and smelled of antiseptic, a scent Harper had come to associate with both pain and progress. Today, the familiar space felt different, charged with a nervous energy that had little to do with the parallel bars or resistance bands. Liam stood beside her, his easy warmth a stark contrast to the clinical coolness of the room. Their therapist, Dr. Reese, was explaining the day's main exercise, and Harper's focus kept snagging on the way Liam's shoulder occasionally brushed hers, sending a jolt through her that had nothing to do with rehabilitation.
Dr. Reese’s voice was calm, but Harper could detect a subtle undercurrent of anticipation. Lately, Dr. Reese seemed to be pushing them, nudging their boundaries both physically and emotionally.
“Alright you two,” Dr. Reese began, clipboard in hand, “Today, we’re going to try something a little different. It’s called the ‘Partner Trust Squat.’”
Harper’s eyebrows shot up. A trust exercise? With Liam? Her anxiety spiked.
Dr. Reese gestured with her pen. “You’ll stand back-to-back, link arms, and use each other as counterweights to lower yourselves into a deep squat and rise again.”
Harper stared, picturing the maneuver. It sounded…complicated. And intimate. Far too intimate.
Liam, however, seemed unfazed. He turned to Harper, a confident grin plastered on his face. “Sounds…fun, right?”
Harper managed a tight smile. Fun wasn’t exactly the word that sprang to mind. Mortifying, maybe. Or disastrous.
“This isn’t just about leg strength,” Dr. Reese said, her tone professional but her eyes perceptive. “It’s about communication without words. You have to anticipate, to trust that the other person will be your anchor.”
Liam responded with a confident, “We’ve got this,” directed at Harper, his easy reassurance a balm on her anxiety. Harper’s reply was just a tight, uncertain nod.
They positioned themselves back-to-back, the awkwardness palpable. Harper could feel the heat radiating from Liam’s back, a strange contrast to the cool air of the room. They tentatively linked arms, their fingers tangling.
