Page 38 of Undeniably

“I know, but you always love them afterwards.”

She bites on that damn lip, making me want to take it into mine. “Okay. I know I said it before, but I mean it now. The past is all out there. Let’s leave it behind us and move on. But no more talking about me behind my back.”

“I can tell everyone you have a great ass in front of you?” I tease.

She smacks me. “You’re insufferable.”

“Ah, but you love that about me.”

“Something like that. Let’s get back to the party.”

“Lead the way.”

???

Morgan

It’s another Saturday morning. Since reconnecting with Tinsley and Keaton, my Saturdays have been mostly spent with them. I’m surprised I haven’t heard from either of them yet today, but decide to focus on my homework—more specifically my lesson plans for ballet.

I realized quickly that this ballet class is what I need to heal the pain from losing ballet. Or, should I say, I found a way to keep ballet on my terms. Focusing my energy on the younger girls in my class empowers me. It reminds me how ballet once made me feel.

It isn’t just ballet either. After seeing how good I am with the students, Mrs. Caron asked me to sit in on a couple of her other classes. She thinks I could be a good addition to any studio if I can broaden my knowledge of dance.

Her encouraging me to continue with dance was what I needed.

No, I won’t be the ballet dancer I saw dancing up on stage all those years ago. But if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think I want to be her anymore, especially after seeing what it took to be her.

The ding from my phone pulls me from my thoughts.

Keaton: What are you doing today?

Me: Nothing, why?

Keaton: I wanna take you somewhere. You game?

Me: Always.

Keaton: Be there in an hour.

I bite my lip, trying not to smile as I look down at my phone and shake my head.

Friends.We’re friends. I’ve been having to give myself the reminder more often lately.

I stand up and walk into my closet, trying to decide what to wear. After a minute, I grab a pair of tight jeans with holes in the front that make my ass look great and an AC/DC shirt that I’ve altered into a crop top and a pair of black chucks. I walk back towards my bed and make sure my Bluetooth is on before I set my phone on its charging dock on my nightstand.

My phone syncs with my portable speaker on my bathroom counter, and a random playlist starts up. I head into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I grab my makeup bag out of its drawer and hop up onto the counter. Even though I have a built-in vanity, I prefer to do my makeup while sitting with my feet in the sink.

I grab my moisturizer and slather it all over my face. I reach for my foundation, but I stop when I remember how much Keaton used to love my freckles. I choose some light brown eyeshadow instead and carefully apply it to my eyelids. Then I apply some black eyeliner in a retro liner style, basically a bolder cat eye. Last but not least, I put on some mascara. After I cap it, I lean back and get a better look.

Not too bad. I look put together, but not like I spent all day putting a bunch of makeup on. Ever since I stopped dancing, I’ve tried to wear as little makeup as possible. A ton of makeup is required when you’re on stage. But now I don’t have to wear any if I don’t want to.

I hop down from the counter and sway to the tune coming through my speaker. It’s a folk song about a woman bringing a man back to life with her love. I separate my hair down the middle, and put each side into a messy bun on the top of my head.

Princess Leia was onto something.I smirk.

I grab a black 90s choker out of one of my drawers and fasten it onto my neck. I twirl before grabbing some lip gloss off the counter and slicking it across my lips. I sing into it like a microphone before tossing it on the counter.

Hearing a deep chuckle from the bathroom doorway, I jump and spin around.

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