“If Alyssa is worth it—really worth it—then you need to be honest with her. I know it’s scary to be vulnerable with another person. The easiest thing to do is throw up walls and keep everyone out, but in the end, it’s a lonely place to be. I think you might realize that now.”
My throat closes up as the sound of my beating heart fills my ears, drowning out everything else. “I don’t want to be hurt again.” Barely am I able to force out the words.
“I know.” Jenna’s lips lift into a sympathetic smile. “But isn’t this girl worth taking a chance on?”
When I remain silent, she says, “Think it over, Colton.”
The thing is, I don’t have to do that. I already know the answer.
I’ve always known it.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Alyssa
The music stops abruptly as Monsieur Dupre claps his hands together, and we all pause. “We will do it again until it is perfection!”
Ugh. That’s so not what I wanted to hear. My muscles are screaming, and I’m out of breath.
For just a moment, my shoulders sag before I straighten and take my position. We’ve been rehearsing the same piece over and over again. He wasn’t kidding when he said that we would keep at it until the movements were flawless. The guy is a real taskmaster. Although, that’s what makes him such a sought-out instructor.
When the music resumes, I lift onto the toes of my shoes, stretching my arms over my head and striking the pose before raising one pointed foot in front of me. The music arcs and I continue to hold it until my muscles tremble.
“Très bien!” he exclaims.
Instead of dwelling on the discomfort, I force it from my mind and concentrate on the rhythm of the music. Much like the first time, the only thing that soothes the pain of this last heartbreak is dance. I’m able to lose myself in the movement for hours at a time. It helps me to not think about—
Nope. Not going to do it.
Even when he presses in at the edges, I drive myself harder so that my mind is too consumed with the steps and exactness of my performance to give one solitary thought to him.
As one, the class moves through the choreography like a well-oiled machine.
Or, in our case, a well-choreographed routine.
Every so often, Monsieur Dupre will pause the music and critique our positions. Just as I spin on my toes, preparing to leap across the floor in a grand jeté, I catch a glimpse of someone lurking in the doorway. My footwork falters, and I stumble.
Colton.
What’s he doing here?
Even though the question sits perched on the tip of my tongue, I can’t force it out. Instead, I stare mutely from across the studio, all the while eating him up with my eyes. I hate how tempting it is to close the distance between us. But I can’t give in to the urge. Colton has done nothing to show me that he’s changed. In fact, he’s proven the opposite.
The music is abruptly cut off, and the other dancers turn until everyone is staring at the tall blond football player loitering at the threshold of the spacious room.
“Can I help you?” Monsieur Dupre asks in a clipped tone, aiming a haughty look in Colton’s direction.
If there’s one thing our instructor detests, it’s being disrupted. The world could come crashing down around us, and as long as it didn’t interfere with our performance, it would be of no concern.
Remember the band playing on deck while the Titanic sunk?
Yeah, it’s like that.
Colton’s gaze flickers to him before zeroing in on me again. “Could I have a moment to speak with Alyssa?”
“As you can see,” the elegant man waves a hand, “we are in the middle of class. This can wait, yes?”
I expect Colton to nod and slink away. Everyone is staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Instead, he moves uninvited into the sun-drenched room. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had a death wish. “No, it can’t. I need to speak with Alyssa now.”
All eyes fall on me. I gulp as my heart beats into overdrive. Like everyone else, I can’t believe this is actually happening.
“By all means then,” Monsieur snaps, “waste more of our time. It’s not like we are here, trying to master a complicated sequence of steps.”
“Thanks, appreciate it.”
I wince. Perhaps Colton doesn’t recognize the sarcasm dripping from the Frenchman’s words, but I do. Even though I’m one of