“But... I don’t know if I want to move across the country anymore.”
“Because of Reed?” I guess.
She sighs. “I don’t want to be the girl that skips out on her top choice for a boy, but it’s not just Reed that I’d miss. It’s my brother, Bent, you. You all plan on staying in Southern Cali, and I don’t want to be that far away from you. I know we could visit, but it’s not the same. Besides, it’s not like the LASPA is a crap school. They have one of the highest post-graduation placement rates in the country. They’re constantly funneling graduates into the Los Angeles Ballet.”
“Why are you at Windsor anyway?” I quirk my head to the side, surprised I haven’t thought of this before. “You’ve known you wanted to dance professionally since you were little. It’s not like there aren’t several performing arts high schools in the area.”
“I actually got into one of the best, but my dad guilted me into attending his alma mater. ‘Davenports graduate from Windsor, and you are a Davenport, Ainsley.’” Her voice drops a few octaves on the last sentence. “That’s why I take so many classes. They even offered me a teaching job after winter break, which would look great on paper, so I think I’m gonna do it. I don’t think many people realize how many hours dancers need to practice each week to go pro.”
“So, you can’t hone your skills during the day—even though that was an option—and you have to maintain a full academic course load? Then, not only keep up with homework but attend dance classes for hours after school, leaving very little time to just be a normal teenager.” I shake my head. “What a selfish ass.”
“I’m used to it.” She shrugs. “He’s been that way for as long as I can remember. That’s why I’m always trying to do stuff on the weekends. I want to have a normal teenage experience, like boyfriends, and parties, and hanging out with my friends. As much as possible anyway.”
“You really think you’ll stay in LA?”
“I guess it depends on where I’m accepted.”
“Well, I’m not going to complain if you do because I can’t leave Belle.” I point a stern finger at her. “But only if you stay for the right reasons, not for a boy.”
Ainsley smiles. “Reed actually offered to go wherever I go. He’s been applying to schools in New York just in case.”
I raise my brows. “Things between you two are that serious already, huh? Damn, when you commit, you commit.”
She chuckles. “A, Reed and I have known each other almost our entire lives. This thing between us has been brewing for years. And B, you’re one to talk, lady. You do realize I see the way you and my brother look at each other, right? How different he is since you’ve been around? I was really worried about Kingston for a while, but you make him happy, Jazz. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him genuinely happy in over ten years.”
Since before their mom died.
I can’t imagine how awful it must’ve been for Kingston and Ainsley growing up with their cold-hearted, absentee father after losing their mom. I may not have had much during my childhood, but I was loved. Belle and I never wanted for affection, even with as often as our mom worked. We knew she did that because she was trying to make a better life for us.
And when the three of us were together? My mom would always ensure it was pure quality time. Whatever we chose to do—whether it was playing games, going to the beach, or having movie nights—all three of us were involved and actively engaged. I’d give anything for another chance to snuggle with her and Belle while we watched Disney movies.
Will I ever stop missing her so much?
My phone buzzes in my pocket, making me jump. I smile when I pull it out and see a text notification from Kingston.
Kingston: Are you two done yet??? How long does it take to buy shit?
Me: Impatient much?
Kingston: When I’m waiting to see you? Always.
“See!” Ainsley points at me. “That look on your face. A minute ago, you looked sad, but now you’re practically glowing.”
I roll my eyes. “I am not.”
“Sure, Jazz. Whatever you say.”
I give her the finger before typing a reply to her twin.
Me: We’re at La Perla, but I think this is our last stop.
Kingston: Tell me more... Better yet, send me a pic from the fitting room. *prayer hand emoji *prayer hand emoji
I chuckle, still getting used to the fact that this broody boy likes to use emojis. I would’ve pegged him as more of an only-type-in-complete-sen
tences-using-proper-grammar-all-serious-all-the-time kind of texter.
Me: Sorry, but I’m not the one doing the shopping. Your sister is picking out skimpy lingerie to wear for Reed right before they get it on. Or maybe WHEN they’re getting it on.