want an audience.
When Beau hands me a plate of food, I let myself savor the rich aromas. We sit. We eat. And words cannot describe the wonders. Delicious. Delectable. Divine. They all fail to capture the experience.
I can’t remember the last time I ate fettuccine of any kind, but there’s just something wicked about a broad noodle swimming in a spicy, creamy, sauce. I’ve eaten crawfish before—on a salad in a California restaurant that claimed to be Cajun-fusion. They were tiny, flavorless things. But these? These are plump, sassy, and swirl up perfectly in a bite of pasta.
My friends and I can’t stop moaning and praising the food—even after I share my good news about Beau’s film debsut. His Aunt Lorraine teases him mercilessly. She’s a trip, and his uncle can’t take his eyes off her. Now that I’ve met her, I can see why their relationship has been off-and-on. She’s kind of a lot to take, but I like her.
And I can’t help but feel that this meal is a kind of welcome from his family. It’s something I never thought about wanting, but now that it’s being offered, I treasure it. I just wish I could enjoy it for longer.
When it’s clear that we’re all done, Beau collects everyone’s plates. I’m stuffed.
“I can’t even imagine dancing right now,” I groan, getting to my feet.
“Best way to work off a meal,” Lorraine says brightly.
Mr. Hebert stands and offers her his arm, his smile rueful. “I don’t have a busted elbow anymore. We could join them.”
Lorraine takes his arm and stands with a smirk. “Hmph. If you hadn’t had that busted elbow, we probably wouldn’t be talking.”
Beau returns from the sink. He leans in close and whispers in my ear, “Hear that? Looks like they have you to thank for bringing them back together.”
I pull a face but keep my voice low. “To thank or to blame?”
He smothers his laugh. I love making him laugh. I love making anyone laugh, but with Beau, it feels like I’ve really triumphed.
We move into the studio, and even though I feel like I’ve just had Thanksgiving dinner, our warm-up leaves me ready to go through the routines.
Beau starts the music—we’ve been practicing exclusively with the tracks from the movie the last two weeks—and then I’m in his arms. Right where I want to be.
I’m not ready for this to end.
The thought shreds me. The feeling is full body. And Beau doesn’t miss it.
“What’s wrong?” He moves me through a brush-off turn, and even though my heart is in my shoes, I don’t misstep or stumble. He’s made me so comfortable with this routine, I’ll probably never forget it.
At least that’s one thing I’ll get to keep.
“Tell me,” he urges, righting us again.
I reach for the thread of hope that has been teasing me for days. “I want to be with you.” I speak lowly so only he can hear.
He gives me a sad smile. “You are with me.”
My stomach plunges. Is this his way of telling me to enjoy the moment? Just enjoy what we have while we have it—even if it’s doomed? My blood rises with the urgency to make plans and to nail down something solid, some kind of future.
The thought of losing him makes me bold. “I want to keep being with you.”
A pained look crosses his face. “I want that too.”
His expression ignites my panic. “Is it that impossible? You’re looking at me like it’s impossible.”
Beau frowns and shakes his head. “I’m not saying it’s impossible. If you’re offering me a long-distance relationship, I’ll take it and run with it.” Breath leaves him in a rush. “I’ll take anything I can get, Iris. I meant what I said. You are with me. Even when you’re not. I don’t think that’s going to change when you’re two thousand miles away.”
My chest is so tight it takes real effort to breathe. “That’s how it is for me too. But the thought of being two thousand miles away from you physically hurts.”
It’s as though my words pummel him. His eyes pinch, and his shoulders bow. He groans low, but I hear it. It sounds like pain.
And that physically hurts too.
“I have to be back in L.A. for an audition on August 3rd,” I say, going for broke. “Would you come and spend the rest of your summer break with me?”
Emotions war in his eyes. Surprise. Joy. Crushing disappointment. “I have teacher in-service meetings starting August 4th.”
I only just stop myself from saying