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“We could stick to Thursdays after group class. So around seven thirty? Would that work for you?”
“I could do that,” Julie agrees.
“Sounds good to me,” Ethan adds in. I almost forgot he was here, wanting in on this. He turns to Julie and says, “Let’s exchange numbers, and we’ll go from there.”
“Oh. Alright,” she seemingly agrees.
“I’ve already got your contact information in the sign-up forms,” I throw in smugly.
What the fuck was that? What the hell is happening to me right now?
Tara is probably asking herself the same question.
And sure enough, once they leave, I get it. “What was that?” she says, mouth agape.
“I don’t know. I couldn’tnotdo it,” I tell her. “I could use the extra money, anyway.” And that’s true. But something else is a driving force. An ugly sense of jealousy, like my body and my brain are both ganging up on me, making me say stupid shit that I’m going to end up regretting later.
“You think maybe you’re offering help that your ass can’t cash?”
“What does that mean?”
She doesn’t answer, instead just studies me for a moment then says, in a tone that suggests she’s not thrilled about this, “Go easy on Ethan.”
***
We’ve been waiting fortwenty minutes and there’s still been no sign of him. I should have started fifteen minutes ago, but Julie wanted to wait. To give him the benefit of the doubt. Like he even deserved any of the benefit.
But about eighteen minutes in, I think she realized what was happening—phone in hand, texts unanswered—which left her looking defeated and left me feeling seven kinds of angry.
“I’m so sorry about wasting your time like this,” she says apologetically. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s alright.” I keep my voice light, but I’m biting my tongue. “He wasn’t a good partner for you anyway.”
“Why not? He seemed like a nice guy. He knew the steps; he followed them fine.”
Because I didn’t like how he looked dancing with you. All wrong.
“And then he ghosted you.”
“Maybe he didn’t like dancing with me,” she shrugs.
“Then he’s definitely not a good partner for you.”
She sighs. I can tell she’s upset, and what’s worse is she feels guilty. “Maybe I didn’t know the steps well enough.”
“None of this is your fault, Julie.”
“I’m just trying to do something for myself here. Is this a sign from the universe that I’m asking for more than I deserve? Am I being knocked down a peg? Should I stay in my lane?” Her laughter is tense, her mouth is clenched.
“Sounds like this has been difficult,” I start, trying to decipher what she’s said. “Would you like to keep the private classes going then?”
“Why bother?” She asks bitterly, and it’s a feeling that I know all too well.
“Because you deserve the joy of dancing.”
She stills. “What?”
“I felt that way once, too,” I tell her. “This career can have a lot of ups and downs. You know what my old mentor told me once?‘You deserve the joy of dancing.’.She was right. She was always right. And now I’m letting you know.”
