Page 70 of The Sky Between Us

I blinked in confusion, before a grin broke across my face and took it. Hazel glanced at me with a small, encouraging smile and nodded.

“I will,” I said with full confidence.

I had every intention of staying up and learning every single word by heart and knowing how to block and anticipate his every move. I held the book of Kellerman’s play in my hands and there was no way in hell I was going to lose to him. I’ve never done it before, there was no reason to start now.

Chapter 16

“Would you like more pie?”

Staring at the half-eaten piece in front of me, I shook my head, while Sky eagerly asked for more. A laugh bubbled up in me, but I suppressed it as Sky stood from the chair and reached for an extra piece. He looked handsome and grown up in his white shirt and black dressing pants as well as having a cute bow tie around his neck. I found myself watching him more and more, my heart bursting with happiness.

But it wasn’t like before. Admiring him took up some of my thoughts while the others were occupied with how quickly he was growing. In September, he would start first grade, and he already loved kindergarten and his friends. My parents kept him home instead of sending him to preschool so we could spend more time together before I moved on to my adult life, which I had no plans for.

That was one of the reasons I hated Thanksgiving. During that time, my family always decided to grill me about important things. I missed the time when their complaints were as small as my non-existent social life.

“Have you thought about what you might like to do?” sounded the diplomatic question from my mother’s mouth as I played with the remaining pie on my plate.

“Actually,” I started, debating my own words before speaking further. I haven’t even told Aiden what Coach Emmerson said to me in private last week. She was our jazz teacher and she talked about my talent, passion and drive when I danced. Something I haven’t heard in a long time. “Kelly, our jazz coach, asked me if I’d like to volunteer to help her out with the local dance studio. Teaching kids.”

“Hazel,” mom exclaimed, her face lighting up as a Christmas bulb creating a contrast with her dark hair and long, one-shouldered black dress. I loved how she always looked as if she walked out from a magazine. Being an ex-model does that to people. “That’s amazing! Are you going to take the opportunity?”

“I’m thinking of it, but I think I might do it. I miss dancing and teaching might be fun. Plus, I have no desire to be a cheerleader for the San Francisco Gold Rush nor any other NFL team, and most of the girls are going on tryouts soon.”

“I always thought you looked cute with pom poms,” my mom shrugged, making me want to roll my eyes.

She always loved me in tutus and with poms, hence why I danced as soon as I broke my arm and stopped doing soccer. I knew she was terrified I might grow to like kicking a ball and she was devastated when dad didn’t allow me to do beauty pageants. Instead, I became a hell of a dancer. But I never considered dance as a career, not even with my options spread thin, yet I couldn’t deny how my body became alive the moment there was music and I could finally move with it. It was a part of me for a long time, it sank into my blood and there was no escaping that I loved dancing. Maybe there was a way I could turn my lifelong passion into a real job. My other options included working for a marketing agency and that wasn’t too appealing. I’ve spent the last five years lying to all the people around me, I didn’t want to get paid to lie to everyone in the world. That wasn’t me.

Offering a polite smile, I nodded. “I might give teaching a shot.” My eyes met my fathers, and I saw the slightest smile I’ve seen in years.

“I’m glad you are exploring other options,” he said with a cautious tone. “This year you have really… grown.”

“Gotten out of your shell,” my mom added.

Sky squinted. “What shell? Like snails?”

“Exactly like snails!” My parents both agreed, making me laugh.

“But she is not a snail, where is her shell?” he shook his little head and the brown curls flew. I’ve never thanked God for the fact that Sky looked more like me and not like Jake. To be fair, we both had brown hair and Jake had brown eyes hence Sky’s eyes, but his features were more resembling mine than his. I’m not sure how I would have handled looking into Jake’s face every single day.

“It’s a metaphorical shell,” I explained, and his brows connected in a confused line.

“What’s a meta…meta….for?” he asked, staring at me.

My dad laughed. “Good job, Hazel.”

“I know what it is, but I can’t explain it,” I muttered with a grin. “It’s when you say something that doesn’t mean what it means word to word, but the overall meaning kind of is.”

“What??” Sky stomped his hand on the table.

“Like shell in this case means I was shy, but when I came out of my shell, I became less shy,” I tried to explain such a simple thing to a five-year-old.

Sky frowned; his cute face morphed into something ugly. “You are not shy.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I go watch the next soccer game?” Sky decided to change the topic as he returned to his pie. “Aiden said they were playing… soon… next week?”

“They are,” I replied, glancing at my dad.

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