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“The next time someone tries to tell you that, just tell them that you’re not being dramatic, you’re being passionate. It always throws people for a loop when you don’t outright defend yourself in a conversation.”
I smiled at him. “Good to know. I never think of that stuff when I’m talking to someone. I always think of it three days later when I’m in the shower.”
Again, Dillan chuckled—a deeper laugh that made my smile widen. “See, this is why I like talking to you, Lizzie. It’s always interesting. All joking and passionate speeches aside, is there something you think you might like to do at some point? You know, when you’re not a teenager trying to make major life decisions.”
I thought about my dancing and almost told him, but social anxiety held me back. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Oh, come on. I’m sure it’s not.”
I could feel myself blushing. Aside from my family, I hadn’t told anyone what my passion truly was. Years ago, when I’d begged my parents to send me to ballet school, they’d flatly refused. They weren’t poor, but they weren’t exactly wealthy either, and they thought I’d never be successful as a dancer anyway because of my “always a bit too chubby” figure. Mom and Dad weren’t mean, but they weren’t willing to pay for what they saw as a pointless hobby. Instead, Mom pushed me toward a “respectable” job, like the “thrilling world of accounting”—her own field—because it offered security and job stability. By the time I was twelve I’d started earning my own money doing small jobs like babysitting and delivering newspapers, and although I was too old for classical ballet training by then, I found a dance school that offered affordable street dance classes.
For me it had been a revelation. I had found something I was really good at! I dreamed of becoming a dancer, creating my own choreographies and even opening my own dance studio in New York one day. I hadn’t told anyone about it except Pippa. And yet, I felt like if I told Dillan, he would understand. He had never been judgmental toward me in any way.
Okay, here I go. Ready for a good laugh?
“I want to be a dancer.”
He didn’t laugh. His smile grew, and his arm slipped off the couch to fully rest on my shoulders. My heart almost stopped. Seriously. “That’s great! You’d be an awesome dancer,” he said.
I felt my face burn with embarrassment at his compliment. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not. You were incredible in the talent show.”
My brow arched in question. “Talent show?”
“Yeah, the talent show you were in about four years ago.”
It took me a minute to remember what he was talking about. “Wait, you mean that little show we did in middle school? You remember that?”
No way.
Dillan nodded. “Well, yeah, I do. At least, I remember how you were in it.”
“How? We were like, thirteen or fourteen back then. That was such a long time ago.”
“Well, I know for a fact you were in it, and you danced to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer.’ I remember you throwing your head back when the chorus kicked in, then doing that move where you spun around and swept your arm out like you were inviting the whole world to join in. That was—” Dillan grinned cheekily and sexy at the same time, “—unforgettable. I still remember thinking that it takes a lot of guts to go on stage alone. Your moves were so cool. As soon as I got home, I had the urge to go buy that whole Bon Jovi album.”
My stomach fluttered with a feeling I couldn’t name.
“I can’t believe you actually remember that. I…” It took me a second to collect myself. “No one has ever complimented me on my dancing before, at least, no one except Pippa. And she’s biased.”
“They should.”
“Right?” I said jokingly.
“You were so powerful and expressive. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”
I’m in love. Done. L. O. V. E.
The way our eyes lingered on each other’s made the rest of the room disappear. For the first time ever, I felt like I was actually being seen. It was the best moment of my life. I hope it lasts forever. The moment was broken when someone stumbled into Dillan as they dropped onto the other side of the couch.
“You want to go for a walk?” he asked. “Maybe find somewhere less…loud?”
There were plenty of our classmates who were talking loudly over the music. I caught sight of Pippa in the kitchen, cheering on one of the theater kids as he tried to do a keg stand, their loud voices carrying across the room.
“Yes, please,” I told him.
Dillan stood, holding his hand out to help me to my feet. We ended up out on the back porch, standing side by side as we looked up at the night sky. Inside, the celebration raged on, and while there were a couple of people in the backyard, they seemed to have had the same idea we had. Small groups were scattered around the yard, mostly couples looking for some quiet alone time.
