Page 90 of 1 Last Shot

Isabella hands me a glass of wine before sitting at the other end of the couch, stretching her legs out and setting her feet in my lap like she knows I like. Instantly I place a hand on her ankle and begin rubbing circles into her skin.

"How long have you been doing it?" she asks.

"Seven years, I think? I was nineteen when I realized I was good at throwing people around."

I take a sip of the wine, so I don’t realize at first that she's hesitating, working up to asking something. When I eventually turn to give her a curious look, she's fidgeting, spinning the wine glass in her hand.

"Have you ever thought about doing something else?" she asks eventually.

That makes me frown. I study her, trying to figure out if that question is coming from a judgmental place. I have yet to see Isabella be judgmental, even though she would've had the right to act it a few times.

"You don't like me bouncing? Or is it the strip club that you have a problem with?"

Her eyes instantly go wide. "What? No, that's not why I'm asking. I don’t have an issue with any of it."

"So then what's the question you actually want to ask?"

She sighs before admitting in a mumble, "That was my roundabout way of asking what youwantto do. But in my head, it kept sounding likewhat do you want to be when you grow up,and I didn't want to sound ridiculous."

Her cheeks pinken and she takes a nervous gulp of her wine, but I'm too busy feeling the earthquake beneath my feet to notice.

What do you want to do?

No one's ever asked me that.

I'venever thought about it.

And it hits me that at twenty-six years old, for the first time I have someone that cares enough about me to ask that question. Isabella's not asking because she's making conversation and feels obligated, she's asking because she gives a shit. Because even though she's only known me a few weeks, she sees something in me that even I don't see.

I've been stuck for so long in the now, focused so much on just survivingtoday, that it never occurred to me to look at tomorrow. Didn't think I evencould.

"Kane?" I hear Isabella's soft voice. She's waiting patiently for my answer.

I don't tell her that single question just upended my entire view of my life. Instead, I say, "I'm not sure. Why, what doyouwant to do? Did you ever think about what you'd do without ballet? Or was the dream always to be a ballerina?"

She hesitates for a moment, observing me with a knowing gaze, but in the end, she doesn't push me on my answer.

"I think I'm content as I am right now, which is a victory in itself," she responds. "With dancing it was always go, go, go, get better, be bigger. Nothing was ever good enough. There was always more work to do. But now…" She sighs heavily. "Now, I can finally breathe. Besides work, I'm not locked into anything. I can do things I actuallyenjoy, and try things I've always wanted to try. I don't have to turn down that food, or say no to an impromptu trip, or weigh everything as it relates to ballet. I love dancing, but I feel like I'm experiencing the pleasures of life for the first time. I feel… happy."

She hurriedly tears her gaze from mine and takes a sip of her wine. When she eventually looks up and meets my eyes, her cheeks are pink and the unspoken part is obvious.

I make her happy.

I don't know how to speak around my heart pounding against my ribs.

She starts to fidget with her wine glass again. "I was actually thinking about staying in Philly a little longer."

Hope expands like a balloon in my chest. "Yeah?" I ask in a rough voice.

She nods. "Yeah, I mean, my lease is month to month because that made sense when I first moved here, since I wasn't sure if I was even going to like it, but it really is a waste of money if you think about it. An annual lease makes way more sense. It would be stupid not to sign one."

She's rambling. I know she's rambling.Sheknows she's rambling.

I swallow roughly and force the words out. "You want to stay in Philly?"

Do you want to stay with me?

Her eyes are wide, and focused on me with emotions I don't dare to interpret. Wordlessly, she nods.

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