Break

I’m about to reply when a large group of dancing students comes toward the giant outdoor potter we’re seated on.

“Tayla!” my fellow ballerina friend Bronson hollers and waves at me.

He’s made it, too. Apparently, everyone knows the choreography of this song. I’m so out of tune with popular culture, it’s embarrassing. Maybe it’s a TikTok trend?

“Hold my coffee,” I say to Lance as I smash it in his already occupied hands. I shirk out of my backpack and get up to join them.

“Do you even know the dance? You’ll look stupid if someone records this. What if Katerina sees it?” he protests.

Fuck off. I’m a dancer, asshole. I can follow and improvise just fine.

Bronson grabs my arm and I join the spontaneous flash mob while Lance frowns in disapproval.

“Taye, I’m so thrilled you’re in, too!” Bronson clasps my hand, and I give him a genuine smile.

Bronson is an acquaintance, but we’ve always had a great rapport. BA Studio Company will be challenging for me. It’s a massive time commitment, and I won’t be the strongest dancer, not by a long shot. I’ll have to learn entirely new styles that have been on the forbidden list since Katerina started running my career at the ripe age of four. This company is taking a huge chance by signing me on.

“Did you see Dash Cunningham was accepted to Crestview? Remember him from Haverton? Whatever happened that he left in such a rush?” Bronson asks casually as we chasse down the flagstone pathway.

I stop. “What?”

In my world, the music stops, too, along with all movement, sound, and the passage of time.

“Dash is here at Crestview?”

“Oh, that’s right, you two were tight,” Bronson says. He’s spinning and throwing his head back and then pulls his arms into a jazz turn.

I’ve stopped dancing completely.

More like enemies. Secret conspirators. Best friends? Star crossed—I stop myself.

I didn’t think I’d see him again. We were practically kids when he disappeared. I was devastated for years, but then I accepted faith and moved on. I was doing just fine, too, but him showing up will flip everything on its damn head.

“Dashiell Cunningham hates my guts.”

“Hate is such a petty word. I practically forgot you existed,” someone says into my ear.

Bronson’s eyes widen at whoever is behind me, then he puts his hand to his mouth to cover his smile.

I whip around to catch Dash joining the dancers who’ve moved into the open patio section and are giving a full-out spontaneous performance.

Dashiell Cunningham is the powerhouse he always was, but now he’s bigger, stronger, and even more confident. His jumps are acrobatic, and the height he gets is reminiscent of the one and only Baryshnikov.

Can the heart simultaneously occupy two contradictory spots? Because mine is at once stuck in my throat and falling into the depths of my belly like a small anchor with a loud and painful clunk.

Dashiell, the ultimate showman, draws a crowd and thundering applause.

“Did you watch him in the finale of Dance Props? That shit was insane!” Bronson says.

“What’s Dance Props?” I ask, blowing upwards to get my bangs out of my face. My stupid life just got a whole lot more complicated.

“What’s Dance Props? Taye, can’t you use your phone to join humans on Earth? I know your mom keeps you sheltered, but seriously, that’s fucked up.”

“What is it, a show or something? A contest?” I won the Grand Prix last year. I know all about that prestigious ballet contest.

Lance is coming over, and I look between him and Dash and chew nervously on my lower lip.

“Taye, this year’s finale broke like every single television rating of all time, and Dash Cunningham won it!”

I cross my arms and give him a “hmmppf,” changing my weight from one foot to the other. “So, what’d he win?” I ask nonchalantly.

“A fucking million dollars in cash, a free ride to Crestview, a spot in the Ballet Arts Studio Company, an ad campaign with Adidas, three million followers, hell, more like what didn’t he win?”

“I told you you’d look stupid, Natayla. Stick to classical cause if your mom sees that, she’s gonna go ballistic,” Lance says.

He’s upset about my attempt at a flash mob and has no idea about the real problem I’m facing here.

My nemesis is now going to be my competition, my possible partner. No matter what we are or how we feel, we’ll be dancing together every day for the foreseeable future.

“Did you get it out of your system?”

I glance up to see Lance inserting himself, his eyes shooting daggers at me. I didn't think it was possible for him to look at me with so much rancor, but I never thought Dash could hate me either.

Frustration wreaks havoc on every particle of my body when I turn to look at Lance. “There’s nothing I need to get out of my system. Thank you very much.”