It isn’t just ballet either. After seeing how good I am with the students, Mrs. Caron asked me to sit in on a couple of her other classes. She thinks I could be a good addition to any studio if I can broaden my knowledge of dance.
Her encouraging me to continue with dance was what I needed.
No, I won’t be the ballet dancer I saw dancing up on stage all those years ago. But if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think I want to be her anymore, especially after seeing what it took to be her.
The ding from my phone pulls me from my thoughts.
Keaton: What are you doing today?
Me: Nothing, why?
Keaton: I wanna take you somewhere. You game?
Me: Always.
Keaton: Be there in an hour.
I bite my lip, trying not to smile as I look down at my phone and shake my head.
Friends. We’re friends. I’ve been having to give myself the reminder more often lately.
I stand up and walk into my closet, trying to decide what to wear. After a minute, I grab a pair of tight jeans with holes in the front that make my ass look great and an AC/DC shirt that I’ve altered into a crop top and a pair of black chucks. I walk back towards my bed and make sure my Bluetooth is on before I set my phone on its charging dock on my nightstand.
My phone syncs with my portable speaker on my bathroom counter, and a random playlist starts up. I head into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I grab my makeup bag out of its drawer and hop up onto the counter. Even though I have a built-in vanity, I prefer to do my makeup while sitting with my feet in the sink.
I grab my moisturizer and slather it all over my face. I reach for my foundation, but I stop when I remember how much Keaton used to love my freckles. I choose some light brown eyeshadow instead and carefully apply it to my eyelids. Then I apply some black eyeliner in a retro liner style, basically a bolder cat eye. Last but not least, I put on some mascara. After I cap it, I lean back and get a better look.
Not too bad. I look put together, but not like I spent all day putting a bunch of makeup on. Ever since I stopped dancing, I’ve tried to wear as little makeup as possible. A ton of makeup is required when you’re on stage. But now I don’t have to wear any if I don’t want to.
I hop down from the counter and sway to the tune coming through my speaker. It’s a folk song about a woman bringing a man back to life with her love. I separate my hair down the middle, and put each side into a messy bun on the top of my head.
Princess Leia was onto something. I smirk.
I grab a black 90s choker out of one of my drawers and fasten it onto my neck. I twirl before grabbing some lip gloss off the counter and slicking it across my lips. I sing into it like a microphone before tossing it on the counter.
Hearing a deep chuckle from the bathroom doorway, I jump and spin around.
“Holy hell, Keaton! When did you get here?” I demand, making him laugh again.
“Just now.”
“Well, announce yourself next time,” I huff as I push past him, I grab my phone off its dock and shut off the Bluetooth, stopping the music.
“You ready?”
“Yeah, do I need anything?” I ask as I slide my phone into my back pocket.
“Just you and your ID.”
I grab my purse off my bed and pull out my ID and credit card. I hold them out to Keaton. “Can you hold on to them for me.”
“Your ID, yes. Your card, no. I won’t let you pay for shit. You want something? I got you.” He takes them both from me, tossing my credit card on my bed and sliding my ID into his money clip before dropping it into his pocket.
“Keaton,” I drag out in a warning.
“Let’s go,” he says over his shoulder as he walks out the door.
We make our way towards the front door. “You guys leaving?” Mom asks as she rounds the corner into the entryway.
“We are. I’ll be home later.” I lean in and kiss her cheek.
“You guys be good!”
“We will,” we say in unison.
✽✽✽
Keaton
Once on the road, she finally asks, “Where are we going?”
“I’m not telling you. It’s a surprise.” I reach over and squeeze her leg right above her knee before putting my hand back in my lap.
“I love surprises.”
“I know.”
“Well, how long is it going to be?”
“It’s a little bit of a drive.” I sneak a glance at her. There’s mischief in her eyes.
She pulls her phone out and hooks it to my Bluetooth. “Perfect.”
I groan a half-hearted protest, but I honestly don’t mind. She could listen to some medieval folk shit, and I would enjoy it because she does.
Fuck. I sound like a pussy.
Rubbing my hand over my face, I glance at her again.
Her gorgeous red hair is piled on top of her head in two buns, while her freckles across her cheeks are like a beacon for my eyes. I don’t miss the touch of red she added to her lips today. It’s just enough to make my dick twitch with the need to see those red, plump lips wrapped around him.
Down, boy. Friends.
“Stop starting at me,” she says through a laugh before going back to singing whatever song is on.
“I can’t help it. Who sings this song again?”
“I’m not leaving the singing to them, Keat.” I don’t miss her eye roll.
When we
