Page 128 of Bottle Shock
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I almost saidIlove you.
It just flew out of me so naturally even though we’ve never said it before.
My phone chimes. It’s a text from Gavin.
Gavin
I heard that.
I type back quickly.
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Gavin
Mm-hmm
We’ll talk when I get home.
When I get to the studio, rehearsal is still going, so I stay in the hallway just outside the double doors. Through the glass panels, I spot Lily immediately—hard not to, given she’s the only kid bold enough to wear leopard-print tights in a sea of pale pink. She sees me and gives me a small wave with a smile—cheesy and absolutely adorable.
I might be biased, but Lily is objectively the cutest seven-year-old to ever exist.
A handful of parents linger around me—some scrolling their phones, others watching like I am. One woman I don’t recognize stands beside me, eyes fixed on the dancers. After a minute, I feel her glance my way.
“Which one is yours?” she asks softly.
My chest squeezes. It’s a perfectly normal question. She assumes I’m one of the parents. Why would she think otherwise?
The truth rolls off my tongue a lot easier than the lie I should tell. I point to Lily. “That’s my stepdaughter. The one in leopard.”
The woman smiles and gestures to her own daughter—same eyes, same freckles, sporting some very cool hot-pink ballet slippers. “That one’s mine. We just moved here, so I’m hoping this helps her find friends.”
“It will,” I say, confident. “I danced when I was her age and made some great friends that way.”
Before she can respond, Kathleen’s voice cuts sharply through the room like a whistle.
“All right, girls, gather up!”
Her tone has that clipped, performative sweetness—the kind that isn’t sweet at all.
The dancers immediately form a semicircle, little ballet slippers scuffing softly against the marley floor. Lily’s shoulders straighten, face bright with concentration.
“That was good, but it wasn’t great,” Kathleen says as she walks the semicircle, eyes skimming over each girl in scrutiny.
Then she stops in front of Lily, and my pulse picks up.
“Lily,” she says, pursing her lips. “Your arms looked strong today, but your focus,” She taps her own temple. “Remember, ballet is about discipline. If we want to dance like professionals, we can’t get distracted by visitors.”
Kathleen’s gaze slides to me.
I didn’t realize she noticed I was here.
She’s such a bitch.
I’m a girl’s girl, but that doesn’t mean all girls deserve it. Some are just rotten to their very core. And Kathleen is one of them.
