her hand on my arm. “And I will be there, taking pictures the whole time.”
I laughed. “No, you won’t! There will be enough cameras there to capture my humiliation. Speaking of pictures, are you still working on your line for the gallery show?”
“Yep, I am.”
For a few minutes, we talked about a couple of the new photos that Charlie had taken recently and the plans for her show. I loved her photographs, loved watching her work. Her pictures were conversation pieces, no matter who saw them. She was incredible, and not just with one subject, but with just about anything that she put into the frame of her lens. She could bring life to a wall, or humanness to a frog. Her talent was exceptional, and I envied her.
Not only was she an incredible photographer, but she was a wonderful person too. She went out of her way to help people, and she was my best friend to boot!
After lunch, we spent the afternoon browsing our favorite boutiques downtown, and we were coming out of one when my cellphone rang with a number that looked familiar, but I didn’t recall immediately.
“Hello?”
“Ali? This is Holly Melton, the producer of May I Have This Dance.”
“Hi, Holly. How are you?”
“I’m great. I just wanted to check in with you and make sure that you are all set to get started tomorrow.”
“I am. I’m looking forward to it.” As I said the words, a mixture of panic and excitement whooshed through my veins.
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. I also wanted to let you know that there has been a slight change.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, one of your dates had to back out, he was in a water-skiing accident and broke his leg.”
“Oh, no! Poor guy!”
“But don’t worry, I had a backup just in case, and he’s excited to step in.”
“Alright, and you think he might be someone that I’ll like?”
“Oh, Ali, I know this man personally. He will be perfect.”
I chuckled a little uneasily. “Well, I’m leaving that up to you. I think I have enough to worry about.”
She laughed. “That is for sure! Preparing for your dates is going to be intense.”
“I do not doubt that,” I replied with a snicker.
“You’ll do great. I know you will. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Thank you, Holly.”
Charlie and I headed into another store, and as I browsed the racks, my mind was a million miles away. Was it possible to find love through dancing? Was I only kidding myself? Was I setting myself up to fail?
I didn’t want to fail. I love to dance, and I know that I wasn’t very good at it, but I did love to dance. I honestly felt like music and movement were a different form of communication, and since the natural way of finding someone wasn’t working for me, maybe this one would. Perhaps I wouldn’t find love, but maybe, just maybe, this could help me get out of my shell a little bit, and I could try to find it another way later if this didn’t work.
Or possibly, one of my three dates would twirl me off my feet and carry me into the sunset. I frowned as I fingered a blouse on a hanger. When had I become such a hopeless romantic? Maybe I was spending too much time reading romance books, and not enough time searching through the reality of life. Not that I had much time to read these days, but it was more time than I spent socializing with other people.
It was so easy to get lost in a fictional world. A good author could suck you right into their words, and weave such a masterful tale that you never wanted to leave. It would be as if you were living those moments, feeling those emotions, having your heartbroken and then repaired.
I wanted a fictional story—only in real life—with a strong hero who would swoop in and fill my heart with joy. I sighed and looked around for Charlie. She was on the other side of the shop, leaning against the checkout with one hip and flirting with one of the employees.
Why couldn’t I be more like her? I wanted to be outgoing, to be able to let go of my fear and forge on. Charlie touched the man’s arm as she laughed, and I stood mesmerized as his smile widened, and he shifted slightly toward her. There was instant chemistry between those two, and I was in awe. I stood there for a full minute,