the Dance

by Alison G. Bailey

  “I’m not in the mood for a greasy hotdog and cotton candy.”

  “The food choices have come a long way since the last time you went to a game,” I said, working hard to amp up the excitement so she’d climb onboard. “And cute guys in shorts will be running . . . will be around.”

  “Correction. I’m not in the mood for greasy hotdogs, cotton candy, or inexperienced prepubescent tally whackers.”

  I gave her a sideways glance. “It’ll be fun. Besides, it’s not college boys playing. ”

  At least I assumed all the players would be around our age. But what did I know. Up until this morning, I wasn’t even aware that a wheelchair basketball league existed.

  “You’re shitting me, right? This is one of your weird little jokes.” I pulled into a spot, turned off the car, and took the key out of the ignition. “Oh! My! God! You’re serious! We’re actually going inside!”

  “You need to open your mind to new experiences,” I said, getting out of the car.

  Sophie was closing the door as I walked up to her.

  “I’ll have you know my mind is plenty open to new experiences. Just last week I let a guy fuck me hanging upside down in a pair of gravity boots.”

  Sophie and I had been friends since childhood. You’d think nothing she said or did would shock me at this point.

  Wrong!

  “I stand corrected. You’re wide open. Who wore the boots?”

  Tilting her chin in the air, her eyes narrowed. “We each had a go at it.”

  I pivoted and walked toward the coliseum. The crunch of gravel got louder as Sophie caught up with me. I glanced over at her walking on wobbly legs. As usual she looked stunning in her burgundy sweater dress and matching three-inch heels. Maybe I should have given her a little warning.

  Clutching my upper arm for dear life, she grumbled, “You could at least have given me a slight heads-up about this little swit-cha-roo. My heels weren’t exactly made for rock climbing.”

  Sophie complained incoherently all the way across the parking lot. As we approached the ticket window I was surprised to see such a long line. Hart told me this was the final day of the tournament. I just didn’t realize the fan base was so big. Luckily the line moved quickly and there were still a few tickets available when we reached the front.

  Sophie glared at her ticket as if it were an electric eel. “Question. What in god’s name are we doing at a wheelchair basketball tourney? And don’t give me this new experience crap.”

  Sophie and I shuffled inside along with the rest of the crowd. “A friend of mine is playing.”

  “A friend? I know all your friends and none of them are in wheelchairs.”

  Ignoring her, my gaze darted around the huge facility as I pretended to search for our seats. Two teams were already on the court warming up.

  The power and strength the players displayed was incredible. It was like they floated on air, gliding and spinning across the shiny hardwood as they passed and shot the ball. The chairs were different than what I’d seen Hart use on a daily basis. The framing was more intricate and colorful. The footrest consisted of one solid bar across the front with straps across the upper thighs as well as the calves. In addition to the front casters and large side wheels, which were angled in toward the player, there was a caster wheel in the back. The chairs looked lightweight and lower to the ground, which appeared to aid in speed and agility.

  I recognized the team jerseys at the farthest end of the court. Within a second, I spotted him. His biceps flexed and relaxed as he pushed across the floor. Black fingerless sports gloves covered his hands. As the ball barreled toward him, Hart released his grip from the wheel. In one smooth continuous motion, he skidded across the court, caught the ball, and shot.

  Nothing but net.

  A sense of pride and admiration for my new friend washed over me. Hart was an impressive example of strength and courage, not just as a man but as a human being. I thought about the questions he asked me last night. I gave up on my dream so easily just because Will deemed it to be stupid and unnecessary. Our hearts were already separated and soon we would be physically as well. I couldn’t blame Will any longer for my apprehension. Hart’s life had been shattered by his accident as well as the death of his mother. He managed to rebuild and reinvent himself in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. All I had to do was push myself to take a step out my comfort zone.

  Sophie popped my arm, jolting me from my thoughts. “Earth to Bryson.”

  “Let’s go find our seats,” I said.

  She looked down at her ticket and then up into the stands. “Jesus Christ, Bryson. These are in the nosebleed section.”

  I tugged on her arm, pulling her toward the stairs. “That’s all they had left.”

  Before hitting the first step a vaguely familiar voice hit my ears.

  “Bryson, baby! I knew you couldn’t stay away from me.” Doug shoved his way between me and Sophie, draping his meaty arms over each of our shoulders.

  Sophie grunted, ramming her elbow into the side of Doug’s ribs. She then grabbed his wrist, twisted, and shoved it behind his back. “On your knees motherfucker!” Doug dropped to the ground wincing in pain. “Bryson, go get security now!”

  Waving my hands in the air, I yelled, “Sophie, stop! I know him!”

  She tightened the twist.

  “Ow!” Doug groaned.

  With a firm grip on Doug’s arm, Sophie said, “You’re kidding?”

  I shook my head. “We met this weekend.”

  Sophie refused to loosen her hold. “Is this . . .” She glanced down. “. . . Why we’re here?”

  “No,” I said.

  She took a few more seconds deciding whether or not she was ready to release Doug back into the world. After what felt like several hours, she finally relented and let him go.

  Doug stood rubbing his arm. “You’re lucky you’re a girl, otherwise your ass would be mine.” Rolling his shoulder backward and forward, his gaze dropped to Sophie’s ass. “Damn, I would so like that ass to be mine.”

  Peering at me over Doug’s shoulder, Sophie pleaded, “Angel Fish, please.”

  Out the corner of my eye, I noticed someone walking toward me. I turned to find Colin with Ronnie only steps behind.

  “Hey, lady,” Colin said, coming in for a hug.

  “Hey!”

  Even though we’d just met and spent a brief amount of time together, there was a familiar warmth and kindness about Colin that made me feel comfortable.

  Ronnie, who looked to be still in recovery mode from his bachelor party, sent a smile and a wave my way.

  Gesturing, I made quick introductions. “Sophie, this is Colin, Ronnie, and you’ve met Doug.”

  Sophie politely smiled and nodded toward Colin and Ronnie. With crinkled nose and squinted eyes, she begrudgingly acknowledged Doug.

  Colin shifted his gaze toward the court. “Hart didn’t mention you were coming today.” “It was kind of a last-minute thing.” The nervous tickle in my throat caused a slight shake in my voice. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”

  Continuing to look straight ahead, Colin nodded as if to let me know he had no intention of outing me.

  Suddenly, the booming voice of Doug broke through the air. “Hartford!”

  I snapped my head toward Doug as he raised both hands high and pointed to me.

  My gaze darted to the court in time to see Hart turn, wearing a big smile. Our eyes locked and his expression went blank. He was so distracted by my presence that he didn’t see the ball flying through the air until it bounced off the side of his head. My muscles flinched, my mouth dried up, and my stomach bottomed out. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, angry, or happy to see me standing courtside with his friends.

  Admittedly, I hadn’t thought my plan through in detail. I’d gotten as far as sitting in the stands watching the game. Whether or not I was going to reveal myself to Hart had still been up in the air until a second ago. It was stupid of me not to think t
he guys would be here to support their friend.

  With my back to the court, I grabbed Sophie’s hand, and tugged.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I muttered in her ear.

  Sophie was in mid-turn when his deep rasp cut through the noisy crowd.

  “Bryson?”

  I froze, closing my eyes and tightening my grip around my best friend’s hand. To her credit Sophie acted unfazed as she waited for my next move.

  Since disappearing in the crowd was out, I let go of Sophie and turned to face Hart.

  “Hi!” My pitch skyrocketed up eight octaves.

  “Way to look alive out there, man,” Ronnie said, joking.

  Never taking his eyes off me, Hart ignored his friend’s comment.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Fidgeting with the end of my sleeve, I said,“I wanted to come see you.” He just kept staring at me. “And I brought Sophie.” I pulled her beside me.

  Sophie raised her hand and gave a slight wave. “Hi.”

  I thought I detected a weak smile and a small tilt of his head in acknowledgment. But the movement was so imperceptible it was hard to be sure. The only thing that was definite was Hart’s gaze stayed on me. His odd reaction led me to believe this was a monumental bad idea. From Hart’s perspective, I was probably coming off a bit stalkerish, inserting myself in his life uninvited.

  Finally Hart found his voice and said, “The game’s about to start.”

  Taking in a deep breath, my chest and ribs felt like they were being squeezed. “Good luck.”

  A quiver began to brew and was headed straight to my bottom lip. I didn’t want Hart to know how upset I was by his reaction. It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I shouldn’t have come, or at the very least, I should have asked him if it was okay.

  With pinched brows, Hart shook his head as the edges of his lips drifted into a grin. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  All the air and anxiety left my body. “Really?”

  “You’re my good luck charm.” He winked, rolling backward until forced to turn away.

  A warm sensation spread throughout my body as I watched Hart join his teammates for the start of the game.

  Cupping his hands on either side of his mouth, Doug yelled, “Kick some ass, Hartford!”

  “What just happened here?” Sophie asked.

  The buzzer sounded, the opening tip-off performed, and the game started.

  Tears of relief and happiness seeped from behind my eyes. Trying to keep my emotions a secret, I quickly wiped them away before anyone noticed. Ronnie was several steps away watching the game. Doug’s focus was split between Sophie’s ass and her chest. Colin’s eyes zeroed in on the court action but he seemed to be getting closer to me.

  When we were shoulder to shoulder, he asked, “You okay?”

  I glanced over at him. “Yeah.” The word came out as half sigh, half whisper.

  Colin still didn’t look at me. “I’ve known Hart my entire life.”

  “He mentioned you guys had been friends since you were kids.”

  “You’re the Bryson from Garrison.” My widened gaze shot to his profile. “Yesterday, when you appeared in the office doorway and I saw the look on Hart’s face, I had a hunch it was you.” I was stunned into silence. “When he said your name then I knew for sure you were the girl from senior year.”

  I attempted to blink my confusion away. “Hart told you guys about me?”

  “Hart talks to me. He doesn’t tell those other guys everything because . . . well, you’ve met them.”

  A slight chuckle escaped me.

  “So, what has Hart said about me?”

  His bright green eyes met mine followed by a sweet grin. “Bryson, there’s a reason why Hart confides in me.”

  “Because you’re like a vault?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Can I ask you one question?”

  “You can ask but I can’t promise I’ll answer.” His grin faded as he turned back to the game.

  I appreciated Colin’s honestly and was glad Hart had a loyal friend like him.

  “What caused the accident?”

  “A broken heart.”

  A stab of jealousy pierced the center of my chest. I had no right to feel this way. But the idea of Hart being so tangled up in another girl that their breakup caused him to lose control bothered me. Since I got the impression from Colin I had one shot at getting a little information, I stayed quiet. After a few seconds of us watching the game, he elaborated.

  “Hart’s mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer the year we turned sixteen. She was the cool mom of our group.” A wistful tone laced his words. “Hart took care of her, going to every doctor’s appointment, chemo treatment, and even physical therapy sessions. They were trying to keep her strength up as long as possible.”

  As I listened it was like a bubble formed around Colin and I, blocking out everything and everyone except Hart. I watched as he whipped around the court, living his life to the fullest. My vision got blurry with misty eyes.

  “That’s why he chose PT as a career,” I whispered loud enough for Colin to hear.

  “Yeah. He started taking college level courses the summer before junior year. He was a mad man. I don’t know how he did it. Hart got it in his head that if he could keep her strong, she’d last long enough until they found a cure. By the end of junior year he’d enlisted their neighbor, Miss Polly, to cook three meals a day even though by that time his mom was barely eating. When she was admitted into the hospice house, Hart had to go live with his dad.”

  “His mom died the day of the motorcycle accident, didn’t she?”

  When Colin didn’t answer, I knew I was right.

  “In a single day everything was ripped away from Hart. His control, his ability to walk, and the one person he loved more than anything in this world. It left him completely broken. His dignity and self-confidence took a massive hit. For a while I was afraid he’d give up and not make it.”

  It was hard for me to imagine a different Hart other than the confident and self-assured one I’d experienced. The snap of my heart breaking echoed in my ears knowing how much he’d struggled.

  “He fought long and hard to get back control.” There was a slight quiver in Colin’s voice.

  This glimpse into Hart’s past helped me better understand the way he operated. His directness, the orderliness of his home, the aversion to relationships, and the Amber arrangement. Even the questions he asked me last night about why I wasn’t following my passion.

  I suddenly felt Colin’s eyes on me.

  Facing him, I said, “Thank you.”

  “Bryson, Hart’s a good man. He’s guarded but not impenetrable. I don’t know all the details of your situation.”

  “I’m getting a divorce and forming a new friendship.”

  He gave me a knowing smile. “Call it what you will. But the way he looks at you . . . I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  And with that, the bubble popped and Colin turned his full attention back to the game.

  I wasn’t sure how to feel after our talk. Part of me wanted to enjoy the fact that those closest to Hart had noticed something between us. That this pull, this attraction wasn’t my overactive imagination. The other part of me couldn’t ignore the concern in Colin’s last comment. I didn’t blame him for looking out for his best friend. In fact, I liked him even more for it.

  The roar of the crowd caught my attention. I’d been so focused on what Colin had to say that I hadn’t been keeping track of the score. Sophie and I never went up to our seats in the nosebleed section. Since the game held little to no interest, she spent most of her time on the move dodging Doug. Ronnie left early to meet Julie, his fiancé, for an appointment with someone who had something to do with their wedding. Colin and I stayed put courtside.

  The Steelers ended up winning the tournament. I beamed with pride, watching the fans crowd around congratulating Hart and the team. Not wanting to distract from his mom
ent, I decided to quietly slip out. I’d give him a proper congratulations tomorrow when I saw him at the rehab.

  Sophie was relatively closed lip as we walked back to the car. She really was an amazing best friend. She knew when I needed an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, or a moment of silence. But I knew this wouldn’t last long and her curiosity would get the better of her.

  She waited until we’d pulled out of the parking lot before firing off her first question.

  After applying a fresh coat of lip gloss, Sophie ran her fingers through her hair and flipped the visor back up. “So, you wanna talk?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good then I will.”

  I cut my eyes in her direction and gripped the steering wheel.

  “I’m pissed off at you . . .”

  “For what?”

  “Um . . . for lying to me, for taking me to a basketball game, for making me walk across gravel in these fabulous heels, for Doug . . .”

  “You can’t blame me for Doug.”

  “I can and do.”

  I simply shook my head.

  “For not telling me how into Hart you are.” Crossing her arms, she snapped. “I thought we were best besties.”

  “We are.”

  “And he’s obviously into you.”

  I glanced over at her. “You think?”

  A smile started to creep over my face.

  “Puul-lease. I craved a cigarette and a shower after the credits rolled on the eye porn matinee y’all performed. Although the shower may have been brought on by how icky that Doug guy made me feel.”

  “If it helps, he seems pretty harmless.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip for a few seconds before apologizing. “I’m sorry. If I’d told you where we were going you wouldn’t have come and I needed you for moral support.”

  “I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you were looking at Hart. I felt like a peeping Tom watching the two of you.” She paused, leaning her head against the headrest. “God, I wish you had dumped Slimy Bastard right after prom.”

  “I can’t go back and change the past.”

  “If you had taken a chance with Hart back then things might be different now.”