Hunter looks thoughtful at that, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Okay, I can see that. But maybe she needs to learn to share. Besides, it’s not like I’m demanding you only hang out with me. And what happens when she gets a boyfriend of her own? Is she going to stop you from being with someone who makes you happy just until she gets her own person? How is that fair, to you or to me?”
“As my sister, she should want me to be happy, right? And as your best friend, she should want you to be happy too. Well, being with you makes me happy. You’re smart, funny and I think you’re secretly a way tougher badass than anyone realizes.” I can’t help the blush and the giddy swoop of butterflies that take flight in my belly at his words. Really?
As quickly as the butterflies came, a lead lump follows. What about what Hannah told me? About Hunter and Olivia. “I think she’s scared of what happens if it doesn’t work out, like with you and Oliva,” I blurt out. The second the words are out I regret them. Everything was perfect, why did I have to go and ruin it?
“Me and Olivia?”
“Katy told Hannah about last Halloween.” I can’t meet his eyes. “Hannah told me the other day.” I plow on, not letting Hunter interrupt me, I need to be honest with him. “Also, I’m scared of getting flak from girls at school. Jordan was talking about how you and Jack are the hottest guys at school since Tyler is off the market. They all stare at me in Chem. I don’t want to be the object of their gossip.” Finishing in a rush, I look up to find Hunter’s gaze trained on me, a sad look in his eyes.
“First of all, for the record, there’s nothing between Olivia and I, never has been. I’m pretty sure she was just using me to get Frankie Gonzalez to leave her alone that night.” Tentatively, he reaches a hand up to graze my cheek. I lean into his hand, seeking his touch. “But that’s really what scares you, isn’t it? More than the time, more than Katy, you’re scared of what people will say at school?”
I shrug, pulling away. When he says it out loud it sounds dumb. I hate sounding dumb. “A little. I’m more worried about Katy. It’s one more reason to be scared. I like being invisible at school. Dating you is painting a target on my back.”
“I didn’t take you for a coward, Sport.”
I don’t have anything to say to that. Neither did I.
“Lisa,” Hunter’s voice is soft. “Look at me.” Scooting over, I turn to face him, our thighs touching in the tiny space of the truck cab. “Listen, I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. That’s the last thing I want to do. I think I’ve made myself pretty clear on what I want. I like you, I want to date you. To be able to call you ‘my girl’ whenever and wherever we are.”
I open my mouth to speak, but Hunter silences me with a finger to my lips. “Let me finish. I understand your reasons for not knowing what you want. I heard you. I’m not even going to try and convince you why you’re wrong, even if I think you’re making those reasons into a bigger deal than they need to be. For the record, I think they’re excuses because you’re scared. I’m not going to change my mind, but I’m not going to wait forever, either. If you decide you only want to be friends, that’s fine. We can just be friends. It’s going to break my heart, but I’ll do it for you. Ball’s in your court, Lisa.”
Before I can move or speak, Hunter leans in to press a kiss to my cheek, then shifts into gear and drives the last block to his house. Words fail me. How is he so flipping reasonable?
“Are you actually a real person? No seventeen-year-old guy is this perfect. Seriously, did Jack get all the stupid genes and leave you with all the rational ones?”
“Not perfect, just raised right. But I am pretty sure I got all the smart genes.” With a chuckle, Hunter puts the truck in park and slides out. Following him through the front door, I’m met by a shout from Katy.
“Finally! I was worried you guys were going to miss it. Come on, they’re starting.” I follow her voice to the couch where Katy has the livestream already playing on the big tv. I plop down next to her.
“Did I miss anything yet?”
“Nope.” A couple of talking heads are explaining the order of the performances, but I don’t pay too much attention since Hannah already explained it to us last night.
“Um… Are you staying to watch?” Katy asks Hunter, who’s hovering behind us.
“Maybe?”
“Yeah, right. You never watch our dance stuff.”
“Well, maybe I’m intrigued. This is a big deal, right?”
“Dude. I’ve only explained it a million times already.” Katy tosses a throw pillow at Hunter’s head. “If you’re going to stay and watch, will you grab us some drinks first? Coke for me, please. Lisa? Do you want something?”
“Oh. Um. Water is good for me.”
“Fine, but save me a spot on the couch,” Hunter ruffles Katy’s hair before he walks away.
“Ugh. Anyway, how was your project field trip? Was my brother incredibly annoying, or just a little annoying?”
I know it’s an innocent question, but my cheeks flame at Katy’s words. “Um, not annoying?”
“Of course he was annoying, he’s my brother. Smile!” Holding up her phone, Katy snaps a picture of us on the couch. “I’m sending it to Hannah even though she’s gone radio silent again. She’ll answer eventually. I wish we could be there right now.”
“Yeah, me too.” Although I’m not sure my reasons for wanting to be there are quite the same as Katy’s. I wish I was there competing with Hannah. That I had the opportunity to at least try. Ms. Parker asked me right after the regionals if I was thinking about it, my score was high enough to be able to attend, but I knew there was no point in even thinking about it. I didn’t want to get my hopes up for something my parents would never let me do, not in a million years.
Hunter plops down on the couch next to me, a little closer than strictly necessary, but I’m not objecting to the way his thigh is warm against mine. “Here you go, Bug.” He hands Katy a can of soda over my head, then hands me a bottle of water.
“Why do you guys call Katy, Bug?” I’ve always wanted to know.
“When we were little—maybe six or so—I went through a huge insect-obsessed phase. Mom and Dad got me all these books on different insects. When I came across a picture of a Katydid, Jack and I thought it was hilarious that our baby sister was named after a bug.” Hunter shrugs and pokes Katy in the head. “And the name Bug was born.”
“Ugh, just shut up and watch. If you’re going to stay, you have to be quiet.” Katy throws another pillow at Hunter’s face for good measure, which he catches mid-air, settling it over his lap.
“I’ll be good, but I can’t promise I won’t ask questions.”
“Just don’t be annoying.”
“I’ll do my very best not to displease your majesties.” That one gets a laugh from me. My little brother Ray and I have such a different relationship. He never wants to hang out with me. Well, if I’m truly being honest, I’ve always been so busy I haven’t had time to hang out with him, and since I don’t do much of anything besides study and dance, I don’t know that I can blame him for ignoring me.
We settle into the couch and start paying attention. The junior contemporary division is first up. Some of these younger dancers are amazing. It’s hard to believe that some of them are only fourteen. I was nowhere near that confident two years ago. Heck, I’m barely that confident now.
“I’m lost, explain to me what’s happening, Sport.” Hunter’s whisper in my ear sends goosebumps down my arms.
I lean close so I can whisper. “Everyone in the finals has to perform both a contemporary solo and a classical solo. The junior division is for twelve to fourteen-year-olds, Hannah’s in the senior division, they’re up for contemporary next.”
“Do the guys and girls compete separately?”
“It depends on the competition, but this one, no. They’ll
award the top three and the Grand Prix winner in each age division.” Satisfied by my explanation, Hunter leans back against the couch, watching. I lean back as well, not quite as relaxed as the siblings on either side of me. In silence, we watch the next dozen dancers on stage, Katy and I engrossed, until they come to the end of the junior division and start on the seniors. There are fifteen dancers in each age division, Hannah is up tenth in hers.
At the announcement of the senior division, nerves for my friend hit. Katy is still utterly relaxed on the couch next to me, but I find myself sitting up straight, leaning forward, watching intently. As each of the dancers take their turn, Katy and I discuss their various strengths and weaknesses.
Finally, the name Martin Needham is announced. Hannah is next.
“Wow, she wasn’t exaggerating when she said Martin was good,” Katy says as he starts moving. “He’s gorgeous.”
“Seriously, he’s so good.” Hunter stiffens slightly at my words, but I ignore him. “Did you see that?” I say a moment later when he lands an incredibly impressive series of turns, his arms and legs shifting through various angular positions as he rotates about a dozen times. Glancing to my left, Hunter’s jaw is set, arms crossed over the pillow he’s clutching to his chest. Deciding to ease his suffering I add, “What did Hannah say his boyfriend’s name was again, Sammy?”
“Yeah,” Katy is oblivious to us both, engrossed in the tv. She misses the way Hunter’s shoulders relax and he sends a chagrined smile my way. I stick my tongue out at him, silly with my nerves for Hannah, and tug the pillow away from him. Leaning back into the couch cushions, this time I’m the one hugging it to my chest, arms crossed and tight against me. My stomach is a riot of nerves as Martin’s solo winds to an end.
This is it. Hannah is up next. Mentally, I send her all the good thoughts I can, hoping that she’s calm and collected as she waits in the wings. If only I could have been there with her. But I know she needs to be able to do this on her own, so instead I grip the pillow tight and wait.
Warm fingers curling around my hand surprise me into looking away from the screen. Hunter squeezes my hand but doesn’t let go. The butterflies in my stomach quadruple, the ones for Hannah joined by the riot of feelings Hunter holding my hand sets off. Hannah’s name being announced on screen drags my eyes back to the tv, even if half of my awareness is centered entirely on the sensation of the warm, rough hand encasing my own, the light stroke of Hunter’s thumb against my skin.
Katy lets out a loud whistle as Hannah appears, walking calmly to the center of the stage. Sedately, she takes a final step into her starting position and we wait. Everything else forgotten, I watch my best friend dance. Her movements are technically clean, but not as wide and sweeping as I know she’s capable of being. I cringe when her standing leg wobbles mid-balance in the middle of the solo. She never has trouble with that part. If I hadn’t seen her do better with my own eyes, I would believe this was her best. But I know better.
Hannah does an amazing job, but I know she’s not going to be happy with it. I’ve seen her dance that solo with more fierceness, more confidence. It was really, really good, it’s not like she fell or did anything wrong, but not the best she’s ever done. I have no idea how she’s going to stack up against the other dancers. My heart hurts for her as she finishes and walks off the stage.
I’m dragged back to reality as Hunter pulls his hand from mine, flexing it and wincing. Oops. “Was that good?” he asks, pulling Katy and I from our silent watching.
“It was pretty good.”
“It wasn’t her best,” I add. “I’ve seen her do it better.”
“Yeah. I hope she calms down for the next one. She looked so jumpy. Here,” Katy pulls her phone out and holds it up to take a picture of us on the couch. I smile and squish in next to her as she snaps a photo. “Hunter, either get all the way in the picture, or all the way out.”
On a whim, I reach back and pull him close. Draping an arm around me, Hunter leans in close, his chin resting on my shoulder, tickling my neck. I smile as Katy raises her arm to take another photo of us, for once comfortable in my place. No second-guessing that being here with these two people is exactly where I want to be. Cheering on and supporting Hannah with my best friend and the guy who has become an exciting, solid presence in my life. A rock to hold me up while I’m busy trying to accomplish my dreams.
Katy is busy with her phone, probably texting the photo to Hannah, not paying attention to us. The competition on screen continues to play, forgotten for the moment. Being brave, I pull my phone out of my pocket, tapping open my camera app. Holding it away from us, I lean against Hunter’s chest. Not giving him the chance to pull his arm away, I press my cheek to his and smile, snapping a photo at the same time.
Pulling my arm back in, Hunter squeezes my shoulder making me pause. Curious, I turn to see what he wants and am met with his most charming and disarming grin. It’s not until I smile back that I notice he has his own phone out, taking a picture of us. I’m even more shocked when he presses a delicate kiss to the tip of my nose.
But my surprise is nothing compared to the shock in Katy’s voice behind me.
“What the hell?”
Chapter Fifteen
Hannah
Gutted.
Irritated.
Nervous.
There’s no time to dwell on the emotions that swell up as I change into my tutu. So, my contemporary solo wasn’t the best I’ve ever done. I was shaky and nervous, my anxiety getting the best of me. As hard as I tried to stay in my mental bubble, I was distracted watching everyone else perform before me.
Determined.
Focused.
Calm.
Chanting to myself, I stick my tiara to my head, shaking it every few pins to test how secure it is. Once I’m happy, I refresh my lipstick and powder my forehead. Strains of familiar music from the junior competitor’s classical variations filter into the dressing room, mixing with the noise of eight nervous women, all changing into tutus. For a moment, I’m disappointed I can’t watch the younger dancers, but I don’t have time to waste. I need to get myself ready. I’ll watch them on the livestream replay later.
Without Ms. Parker backstage, I’ll have to find someone else to do up the back of my tutu. I glance around, no one has the back of their tutu done up yet, it’s impossible to do yourself. I spot one of the tiny Japanese girls, standing around looking awkward with her tutu flapping open at the back like mine. I know she’s one of the first to go in our group.
Pretending to be calmer than I am, I walk over, waving my hands in the direction of her back, hoping she understands me. She looks at me quizzically, not understanding. Over the years, Lisa’s taught me how to say several things in Japanese, but right now “good night,” “good morning,” “please,” and counting to ten aren’t helpful.
“Want me to do you up?” I try again, reaching for the back of her tutu. Understanding floods her face and she nods vigorously. I start doing up the tiny hooks, starting at the bottom and working my way up. Finished, I tap her on the shoulder and turn my back to her, hoping she’ll get the hint and return the favor. She does, her fingers pulling the fabric tight against me. I hollow out my stomach and squeeze my ribs together to help her get it on the tightest hooks. With no stretch in the fabric, it’s important to get it as tight as possible or else you run the risk of hooks coming loose while you dance. She struggles to get the top few hooks done up, I can’t blame her, even Ms. Parker has trouble with them.
Turning to face her, I smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll get someone to do them up for me.” She does a little bow to me, so I bow back, finally remembering a useful word from Lisa.
“Arigatou,” I say as I straighten, praying I got it right. A smile lights up her face at my attempt. I can imagine how overwhelming it must be to travel to a different country for a ballet competition without speaking the language.
“Doumo arigatou,” she says back, her accent reminding me of Mrs. Hamasaki. “How we say thank you.” She bows again before walking out the door.
As I go back to the spot I claimed for myself at the mirror, I debate checking my phone for any messages. I do want to see if there’s anything from Ms. Parker and my parents. An encouraging photo from my friends or from Trevor wouldn’t hurt either. I’ve been avoiding my phone most of the evening, afraid that it’s going to distract me, but right now, I need a boost.
Slipping on my jacket, my phone in the pocket, I head to the side of the stage. They still have us going in numerical order, so I’m ten out of fifteen. I’m just grateful not to be first or last. Once I’m safely on the side of the stage, I find an out of the way corner and start stretching, pulling my phone out to look at my texts, ignoring everything else.
Ms. Parker: Deep breaths, you can do this. No matter what happens I’m so proud of you for being here. I know it was hard and scary, but you did it anyway and that’s an accomplishment that can never be taken away from you. Don’t worry about how you place, just get on the stage and dance for the joy of dancing. I want to see the Hannah I know out there, the one who lights up with happiness at the idea of a challenge, the Hannah who rises to the occasion. You have it in you. Dance big, dance bold, dance with joy. I’m so proud of you.
Dang it, Ms. Parker gives good pep talks. Tears prick at my eyes as emotion threatens to overwhelm me. I wish I’d read this before my contemporary solo, big and bold is exactly what I wasn’t when I stepped onto the stage earlier. A warmth and peace settles in my heart at her words. Maybe I shouldn’t read any of the other texts until after I dance?
I glance at my messages app. Texts from my mom and dad wishing me luck and gushing about being proud of me, leap out at me. I have unread messages in my group chat with Katy and Lisa, from Oliva and from Trevor. I still have at least twenty minutes before it’s going to be my turn to dance, I might as well check them, what else am I going to do while I wait? Sit here getting more nervous?
Head to Head (On Pointe Book 2) Page 13