Page 25 of One Short Summer

When she’s finally about to open her beautiful lips, her phone buzzes next to us on the counter.

The noise pulls us out of the moment as we both glance over, just in time to see Alex’s name flashing with an incoming text message.

The preview of it shows up on the screen.Great talking to you earlier. Keep up the good work, and please, please, please try to dance!! I’ve waited long enough to have you dance in circles around me.

I let her hand slip out of mine and shove it into my hair instead, barely refraining from pulling it out at the roots.

Releasing a frustrated breath, my jaw clenches so hard, it’s almost painful. “I hate to say this, but I have to agree with him. You need to dance again.”

She jumps off her chair, hands on her waist, and looks at the ceiling. After sighing loudly, she focuses back on me.

The words that come out of her mouth are weaker than her stance. “What if I don’t want to?Nobodyever seems to care what I want. Plus, what if I simply can’t? I mean, has anyone ever thought about that? It’s always just, ‘Mo, you have to dance again, just try, you can do it.’ But maybe I’m incapable ofeverdancing again. And then what? I’mnothingwithout dancing, absolutelynothing, Gabe.”

Her voice has taken on a panicky edge as the words tumble out in one big whoosh, and she seems to visibly shrink from the outburst.

When she starts pacing the room, I silently watch her. Back and forth, back and forth.

I scratch the back of my neck as my eyes keep tracking her movements.

Totally unexpected.

I did not see this coming.

At all.

I’d figured she was scared, but I didn’t realize her fear was so deeply rooted. No wonder she hasn’t tried dancing yet. The way she looks right now, wide eyes and tight shoulders, her breath bursting in and out. It must have been paralyzing.

For a moment, I’m at a total loss for words as my brain goes a million miles per hour, trying to figure this out.

Trying to fix this.

And it’s quite obviously too sensitive a subject to screw up with the wrong words.

All I know is that I want to help her.

Badly.

After walking back and forth a few more times, she throws her hands up in the air. “Why are you looking at me like this? What is it?”

I rub my hand over my rough jaw while my brain is still going. “I’m just trying to figure out what it would take to get you to dance again.”

That stops her in her tracks. “What do you mean? This has nothing to do with you, Gabe. This is one hundred percentmyproblem, not yours.”

Since we haven’t done enough finger-pointing today, my index finger points straight at her face. “What will it take for you to try to dance again? Tell me.”

She’s stunned for a moment. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

I only shrug my shoulders, a new determination settling deep in my bones. “Maybe, maybe not. It’s worth a try though. Perhaps you just need the right incentive.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times but still nothing. She picks up her water bottle, playing with it, screwing and unscrewing the lid a dozen times.

“So, what’s it gonna be, Monica?”

“I can’t really think of anything right—” Before she can finish her sentence, her phone lights up again, reminding both of us once more of Alex’s unread text message.

My eyes stay glued to the phone screen before focusing back on her. We’re both quiet for a moment before I close my eyes and let out a long breath.

Brushing my hand over my face, I rub both of my eyelids with my thumb and index finger.

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