Page 60 of One Short Summer

My word vomit finally stops, my voice trailing off at the end.

His gaze is scrutinizing, like he’s trying to figure out the deeper meaning behind my words. Because of course, there is one, and he knows me well enough to realize that.

The question now is if he continues to prod to get the answers out of me, or if he’s going to let it go.

When he opens his mouth, I’m absolutely sure it’s the former.

I’m saved by the bell though, or in my case, my phone as it vibrates on the table. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved to take a phone call.

That is, until I see the name flashing on the screen.

Ivan.

FreakingIvan.

My ex. Myveryunwelcome ex.

The timing could have not been worse. Or more ironic, for that matter.

“I—” My hands pause mid-reach before continuing. This man is not one to give up easily if he wants something, and I know he wouldn’t just call for no reason either.

Plus, it’s not helping he also happens to be the star of my dance company, including being buddy-buddy with the director and whatnot.

“Sorry, but I better take this.” Unable to glance at Gabe right now, I snatch the phone, murmur a hasty, “One second,” into it after answering, and rush to the double doors to slip out back.

There’s no way I can take this phone call with Gabe around.

Once the door is safely closed behind me, I blow out a deep breath before putting the phone back to my ear. “Hello?”

“Mo. How are you?” Ivan’s voice is gravelly, the same way it’s always been.

A magnificent dancer with the utmost talent, who also happens to look like a supermodel and sound like a porn star.

No wonder he’s the star of the show. Everyone wants a piece of that man.

And I had it, not too long ago.

Not that I want it anymore after what happened.

Memories of Ivan assault my mind as I sit down on one of the chairs, pulling my legs up under me, trying almost desperately to get comfortable. After a while, I give up, seeing as I’m so on edge I can’t settle down right now, no matter how hard I try.

“Good. How are you?” Small talk. I hate it.

“Great. So, listen—”

My knee keeps hitting the side of the chair from bouncing so hard, but it barely registers with my occupied mind. I still can’t believe I’m on the phone with Ivan, that he’s actually trying to have a normal conversation with me.

After everything that went down between us.

But I guess that’s Mr. High-and-Mighty right there.

“So, what do you think?” His voice cuts into my thoughts.

“Sorry. Think about what?” I must have completely spaced out while he talked.

He sighs, but it’s not as exasperated as I’ve heard it sound plenty of times before. “Are you listening now?”

“Yes.” Not that I want to.

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