Page 149 of Rome: The Ballerina

Drawing her neck back, his mother peered at me.

“Home, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I doubled down.

“I like that.”

“Me, too,” I admitted. “Me, too.”

“She needs to finish up in here. I’ll meet you two at our seats. Alright?”

“Yeah, son. Sure thing.”

“I hope to see you again, Rome.”

“You will.”

There wasn’t a question of if. The only question was when. Because, we’d meet again. And again. And again. And again.

Saint’s eyes never left mine. Alone again, we stood in the middle of my dressing room. Chests rising and falling. Limbs unmoving. Hearts mingling. Heads racing. Emotions in disarray.

“I was thinking that uh– if you go out there and nail that performance, a nice, nice set of wheels will be waiting for you.”

“A nice set of wheels, huh?” I kissed the skin of my teeth.

“I’m talking nice, nice, Mellow.”

“You think I’m ready for wheels?”

“I think you’re ready for anything you set your mind to. And, you haven’t hit any cones in a while. You’re ready enough.”

He was right. The last three times we’d had lessons, every cone was standing by the time our lesson ended.

“Thank you.”

“All bullshit aside, baby. You’re going to crush it. This is just the beginning for you. You’ll be great out there.”

“Thank you, Saint. That means a lot coming from you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “So many things at once.”

“What’s the matter, Mellow?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know. I have this feeling– you know– lik–”

“Like what?”

I shrugged. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

I couldn’t explain it. I hardly ever could. But, I knew the feeling.

“Shhhhhh. Tell me about it after the show. I’m going to go grab my seat so I can be front row when those curtains raise and my baby does her thing. I’m trying to fill the camera roll tonight. Fuck up the storage. All of that.”

Snickering, I replied, “I’m holding you to that.”

“Might as well give me your phone, too, cause I’m going to need all the storage Apple will allow.”

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