Page 39 of Dance for Me
“I don’t think I understand, did he tell you he doesn’t want to deal with the downside of being tied to you?” Stella asks, giving me the respect enough to not pretend like there isn’t a downside. People love the thrill and mystery of Cirque for a night, but it’s never going to be the safe choice for building a life.
“He doesn’t know what he wants. He isn’t thinking with the right head right now. The lust will clear, and he will see this is the right decision.”
“Oh, so you decided for him. What he could handle. Andwhat was best for him,” Stella replies. It’s odd, her reply doesn’t hold judgement like I would have expected, like I see in Sadie right now. That I’m not being fair to Colton. Instead, she just nods and leans back against the cushions.
“Yes, I did.” I shift a little straighter in my seat, lifting my chin, ready to defend myself.
“Okay”
“Okay?” I ask, because I don’t know this girl well enough to believe she would blindly take my side in this, not when Sadie looks like the vein in her forehead is about to burst from holding back her opinion.
“Yeah, okay. I’m not going to tell you what to do and how to handle your relationship” Stella tips her head to the side in thought, “Or I guess the lack of relationship.”
“So, you agree with me, that it’s the right call?” I ask her, suddenly feeling elated that she’s here to take my side.
“Oh, fuck no. I think it’s a horrible idea. In fact, Iknowit’s a horrible idea,” she says, biting her bottom lip. “Look I obviously don’t know you very well, but I can speak from experience that making a decision for someone else’s heart will haunt you for the rest of your days. You may think you’re helping him, and you may even be right, but at the end of the day he will end up hating you for it,” she says, holding her glass to me in a cheers motion before bringing it to her lips.
“Him hating me might make things easier,” I grumble, covering my face with my hands.
“Or, and hear me out, give it a try and see what happens,” Sadie says, finally throwing her two cents into the debate. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
I scoff, thinking of all the ways this could end up in ruins.
“You don’t understand,” I tell them, not sure how to explain the war my head has been waging against my heart for weeks.
“So, make us,” Sadie says, her tone soft and soothing. It’s aloe on a burn, but the damage is done. I can feel myselfunraveling as these two women stare at me, waiting for an explanation as to why I don’t want togive it a try.I white knuckle the glass in my hand, anger and terror mixing together as I find the courage to voice what I hadn’t wanted to admit. I’m afraid.
“Colton…” I start, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. “Colton is amazing, and bright and lovely, and I will snuff that out. He has only ever seen what I have shown him, the parts that have been safe and tame, andlegal. He is a fucking boy scout playing dress up! He listens to the Backstreet boys while he works out, has tea parties with his little nieces on weekends when we aren’t at the club. He eats Starbursts and leaves the pink ones in my desk because he knows they are my favorite. He’sgood. He’s here for a fun time, and I can already feel myself falling and when I do, I am going to be fallingalone.He will have his little thrill and when he realizes this ismy life, when he really sees me, he will run. And I’m not even good enough to promise I won’t chase.” I don’t even realize I’m bleeding until Sadie reaches for me, slowly pulling open my hand to show the shattered glass pieces clutched within. Stella is already hurrying to the kitchen, getting paper towels and probably tweezers.
I have tears tracking down my cheeks, falling in fat drops that mix with the blood already permeating the carpet, adding to my embarrassment.What a girl’s night.
“Harper, look at me,” Sadie whispers.
I ignore her, watching the way my hand shakes, from adrenaline or pain I can’t tell. Sadie calls my name again, a little sharper now, and this time I look up to meet her stare. She looks so much older right now, taking charge, being bossy. She doesn’t do it often, butdamndid I teach her well.
“He might run. He might. I’m not going to sugar coat that, and I’m not going to lie to you and say it isn’t a possibility.”
“You could have at least tried,” I grumble, and she chuckles softly.
“Look, if he runs, then he runs. You will survive, because that is who you are. You are not someone who lives in half measures. You are not someone who doesn’t let others make their own choices, for better or worse.” At this she gives me a pointed stare. Stella doesn’t know my history, or the weight her statement has on past indiscretions. But Sadie does. “You just gave a little speech about how wonderful and strong Colton is, maybe trust your own opinion of him.”
“My opinion of men hasn’t always meant a whole lot,” I remind her, wanting to close my hand over the glass again, the bite into my palm might feel less painful than the memories of past mistakes.
“Yes, well, we all make choices we regret. But you can’t give up on the entire gender because one man turned out to be a dipshit who wasn’t who you thought he was,” Sadie sits up a little straighter now. “Plus, you aren’t the same person you were then.”
No, I’m certainly not.
“So, what do I do now?”
“I think you start by telling him the truth. You tell him what’s going on at the club, why the last few weeks have been…hard. But Harper, he needs to make the choice to stay, and he can’t do that without really knowingyou. Which means he needs a little Mathers family history lesson.”
My eyes, which have been trying to studiously avoid peering into hers, connect and I shake my head in denial that this is the only way through. Our history beforeCirqueis not something many know, and not solely my story to tell.
“Your history or my history?”
She smiles, a sad regretful smile, “Is there one without the other?”
20
