Page 36 of The Breaking Pointe
I look at her, casually letting our eyes meet.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about what made you be with the likes of that.” I finally say what I had wanted this whole time.
She’s beyond the state of being too good for him.
“I’m not,” she says, fast and sure. “Not anymore, I mean. Never again.”
I nod, standing from my seat and collecting our plates. “Watching you crush him, Colton.I can’t explain what it was like, watching—I was so blown away,” she says, standing up to follow me to the sink.
“Enough about me,”I say, once I finish cleaning her plate.
Setting both of them in the sink, I rinse them, then turn to her. “I wanna hear about you.”
“I dance,”shesays, asifit’sa secret.
She takes a deep breath, continuing. “I dance, and I teach dance.Little girls.They mean a lot to me,” she says with a
littlegrin.
“You know, some would say that dance is equivalent to football,” I comment, looking down at her little figure being eaten by my clothing and smiling at the sight.
She puts her hands on her hips. “Oh yeah?Maybe I should try to get drafted then, huh?I got a pretty high kick,” she says, turning on her toes before walking to the table to grab her wine.
I softly laugh, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a beer. I then follow her to grab the bottle.
“You’d probably get devoured by the safety equipment alone.”
She gasps,turning it into a laugh.“Okay,laugh all youwant, but the money would help me. I want a studio apart- ment,” she chimes, walking down into the conversation pit.
I carefully follow behind her, setting everything on the coffee table.She’s so bubbly when she doesn’t have her guard up. It’s adorable.
“Seriously, though, it would be a dream.It’s just so expensive to maintain an apartment, a dance studio, and everything else. Renting the place I currently have is scary enough,” she expresses.
“It seems like you got the first part down.It’s all about patience.You could try giving the owner an offer, when you’re ready?” I ask her, trying to assure her as I sip more of my drink.
I plop on the couch, watching her pace around.She stops in place and looks at me, smiling slyly. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s just not in the cards for me,” she says, mocking my earlier statement.
“Verynice.”Ichuckle.“Butyoucan’tdothatforeverand
be happy.Settling can’tbegood.”
“Maybe not.I’ve made it this far, though,” she says, sitting beside me.“It’s easier not to face disappointment. That’s mostly why I’ve stayed where I am.I’m scared of dating, and I’m more scared of disappointing the girls.”She stares at the table in front of us, sighing.
“You know,” I lean forward, bumping her shoulder softly, “denying yourself love, and valuing loss and loneliness is the worst kind of poverty.”
Her head spins to look at me.“Colton, how old are you, exactly?” she asks, seriously.
“I’mtwenty-seven,why?”Iask.
“Because you speak like you have the wisdom of someone, much older.” She giggles, grabbing my arm and squeezing it.
My gaze falls to her thin fingers, holding me like I might get away. She makes me completely and utterly defenseless. I’m such a nervous wreck, it’s a joke.My hands are even beginning to unmask my ugly, nervous tic.
Nervousshakes.
“Are you cold? You’re shaking?” she asks, grabbing my hand with the both of hers around my beer.
“It’s nothing.I’m fine, don’t worry.”I rest my other hand on hers, causing her to look at me.
