I don’t have an answer to that. It’s such an integral part of who I am.
Even though I’m nowhere near good enough to dance professionally, my dream is to one day open my own studio. During high school, I started teaching ballet and jazz classes. It’s something I enjoy. I’ve been lucky to find an academy here in town where I can pick up a few classes to teach on the weekends.
Am I under the delusion that it will make me rich?
Nope, but I don’t care. Dance makes me happy.
As we move through the crowded corridor, Zoe chatters about the upcoming annual showcase. Each performer choreographs a three-minute routine to highlight their talent. Wesley has a fierce program with dancers from around the world. Guest instructors are brought in from the most prestigious programs and academies. A number of students go on to perform in companies, on Broadway, or dancing backup. I feel fortunate to be here, studying alongside and learning from such a talented group of people.
“Hey, you want to grab lunch?” she asks. “After such a grueling rehearsal, I’m starving.”
I pull on my fingerless gloves. “Sure. I could eat.” Truth be told, I can always eat. It’s a continuous battle.
What can I say? I’m part Italian and have a serious love affair with pasta. And chicken parmesan. One day, it will be my downfall.
As we push through the glass doors into the bright January sunshine, my phone chimes with an incoming message. I slip the cell from the pocket of my white puffer jacket and glance at the screen.
My heartbeat quickens as Colton’s name pops up.
Six months.
It seems almost unbelievable that we’ve been together that long. Last week, unable to hold the feelings inside any longer, I’d dropped the I love you bomb after sex. I couldn’t help myself. It had needed to be said, and I’d wanted Colton to know how much he meant to me.
It had been disappointing when he didn’t return the sentiment, but it’s fine. I know he cares. He shows me in a hundred different ways each and every day. Little things that make my heart beat into overdrive—like opening the car door for me, stroking his fingers gently through my hair, clasping my hand when we walk across campus, or turning up at my dorm in the morning with a steaming cup of coffee.
Even though we’ve been together for half a year, we’re still taking baby steps. At some point in the not-so-distant future, I’m hoping Colton will come to the realization that what we have is special, and he loves me. Just like football, it’s all about the long game with Colton. I’m nothing if not patient and persistent.
I swipe my finger across the screen as my gaze skims over the message. Zoe and I jog down the cement stairs until we’re in front of the William Dutton Fine Arts building. It takes a moment for his words to sink in. As they do, my footsteps falter, and I stumble to a halt. My attention stays glued to the text as all of the oxygen evaporates from my lungs, leaving me to feel as if the wind has been knocked from my body.
“Alyssa?” With her brows pinched together, Zoe swings around before hoisting the strap of her bag onto her slender shoulder. “Are you coming?”
People knock into me in their haste to flee the building. A few grumble and tell me to get out of the way. When I remain silent, Zoe’s fingers lock around my wrist before she drags me off the busy pathway and out of the rush of student traffic.
She waves a hand in front of my face to capture my attention as concern floods her voice. “Alyssa?”
I blink and refocus on the words—willing them to morph into something else—before giving my head a little shake.
This has to be a joke.
“Are you all right?” Zoe’s voice softens as she searches my face for an indication as to why I’ve fallen into a semi-catatonic state.
Even though I’m splintering apart on the inside, I force myself to remain calm. “Um, sorry to bale,” I mumble, unable to stop staring at the screen. It’s like a horrific car accident I’m unable to look away from. “There’s something I need to take care of. Go on without me, okay?”
Her lips sink further into a frown as she shifts her weight and cocks her head. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I glance up as my head continues to spin. “Sorry to flake on you like