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She'shere.
“I thought you were the pizza guy,” I manage to say.
“Oh.” Her face falls. “Shit.”
But fuck, I want to blurt out.I’m so happy that it’s not. I almost tumble into her with relief and scoop her into my arms.
“Did you see the pizza guy?”I don’t even care.
“Um. No, no, I haven’t seen the pizza guy. And I’ve been sitting in my car for a minute. So …” She turns to face the parking lot, like she's ready to leave, but I don't want her to go.
“How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. I ran out of The Ivy, probably ran some red lights to get here. Wild streak, I guess,” she adds jokingly but it falls flat.
“Why?” My voice is below a whisper.
She swallows before she answers, “Because I fucked up.”
My throat is dry even as I clear it, not saying anything in response.
“Because I let everybody else dictate all of this between us, and I shouldn’t have. I made this decision myself from the beginning, and I should have followed through. I shouldn’t have abandoned it. I shouldn’t have abandoned you.”
“And what’s supposed to happen now?” I lean against my doorframe. My feelings are back and forth at worst, upset and hurt and so happy to see her.
“I didn’t cancel the plane tickets,” she says quietly. It sounds more like a question than anything else. It sounds like a plea. And it takes me by surprise.
“And I know that it’s unfair to ask you to brush everything off and hop on a plane with me like nothing happened. You didn’t deserve for me to let some outside events make decisions for me, or for us,” she says with such emotion that it sounds deeply remorseful. It sounds like her heart is cracking as we talk. I don’t think I can handle it. “It won’t happen again.” She shakes her head adamantly.
“You don’t know that,” I tell her.
For a minute, she just stares back, maybe unsure of what to say. I shouldn’t feel like an asshole right now, and yet, I do. I don’t know what to do with all these mixed feelings. A jumble of nerves running through my body, a racing heartbeat working overtime.
“You’re right, I don’t.” And with that, she takes a deep breath and starts to cry.
“What do you want, Julie?” I ask her softly. My own heart is cracking, too, quietly beggingplease say meas it tries to stop itself from crumbling.
“I can’t do this without you. I don’twantto do any of this without you. I never did. Ever.”
I stay quiet, but inside, I feel like I'm drowning. I desperately want to hold her.
“This saved me, too,” she says then. And I melt a little bit more, reaching over to brush a tear away. She leans into my palm, her wide eyes watching me, and I can’t keep this up any longer. I can’t act like I wasn’t the happiest to see her when I opened my door.
“These shoes have brought me here,” she says, her hand tentatively reaching up to hold mine. It feels so good to touch her, to be touched in return. “They carried me from the start, that very first step I took into the dance studio and now to here. They brought me back home. And I’ll be damned if I don’t get to dance with you in San Diego.”
There was never a doubt in my mind that she wasn’t strong and passionate, deeply caring of everybody around her. But it’s a different thing when it’s aimed toward you.
“You are my home,” she says, standing in front of me, vulnerable and honest. “And I’m not doing this without you. I have loved every second of dancing with you, Logan. This was never just some agreement and I’m sorry I ever said that. This was always you and me. The best thing.”
The best thing.
And that's the final blow to my hardened shell. My heart jumps into my throat as I move my hand from her cheek and offer it to her, palm up, a silent plea for her to take it. For her to dance. She looks at it in surprise, then places her hand in mine.
We fall into step together, like we’ve been doing this for all our lives. Temple to temple, chest to chest. My arm around her back, her hand at my shoulder. Like maybe in some other lifetime we were partners, too. Like Celestina is here, smiling as she says,“Guess what, Logan? I found you a partner.”
“Logan,” she says, almost like a question, but I just keep dancing with her. How much I missed this even if it’s only been days.
An ocho, a giro, everything familiar. A close embrace, eyes closed. She’s right, this feels so much like home it hurts.
