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“Classical. Ballet dancer through and through.” He grins.
I wince. “And jazz. I’ll go,” I decide, because hey, Fred will be there. What more excuse do I need?
“Awesome.” He types something quickly on his cell and puts it down. His blond hair is standing up like the spines of a porcupine. He looks adorable. “Hey, have you seen the video of our rehearsal on YouTube? You know Gerry, our pianist? He totally lost it after the third try, and started playing whatever.”
He pulls his chair close to mine, and we bend our heads together, giggling as we watch the video. It feels comfortable, familiar, nice. He smells of apples and aftershave, kinda sweet. His mouth is so close to mine as he tells me about the fit their teacher pitched when she saw the video online, and his shoulders shake with laughter.
Will he kiss me? Will he let me kiss him?
I think he will, right after he says he has to go and turns to smile at me. I tip my head up, waiting, my heart racing.
“Oh, Madeline, you’re the sweetest girl,” he says and kisses my cheek. “Gotta run. We’ll talk, okay?”
“Okay,”
I mumble as I watch him grab his jacket and lope away, cell phone clutched in his hand.
Why won’t he kiss me? Does my inexperience show so much? Do I look like a wide-eyed girl with a crush, a girl nobody will touch with a ten-mile-long pole? Does he think I’m so innocent and naïve I need to be protected somehow from anything sexual?
Sometimes I wish I was world savvy like Cassie…
Need to fix that. Fix my image. But where to start if the guy I like won’t even let me try?
Chapter Five
Seth
Some days take a sudden turn for the worse.
And some days are bad right off the bat. Like today.
I made it back from Manon’s place in one piece. So far so good, right? Took a cab, even had enough cash on me to pay. Made it up the two flights of stairs and dragged myself into the living room where I proceeded to drop in a sweaty heap on the couch and moan pathetically at the pain in my knee, the ache in my head and the burn of all the scrapes on my elbows and hands.
Still good. Nothing too bad.
But that doesn’t last, because I suddenly remember I have a physiotherapy appointment this morning.
Had. Ten minutes ago.
I struggle back to my feet and limp into the kitchen, cursing all the way, to grab a glass of water before I haul my sorry ass back down and…
How do I pay the cab? Fuck. I don’t have any more cash, which means I need to pass by an ATM first.
If there’s any money left in my account.
I grab a glass, fill it with water from the tap and take a long swallow.
Need to see if I can reschedule the appointment, I’ll never make it in time. I pull out my cell from my back pocket to call the hospital, but before I even pull up the number, it starts ringing.
“Christ.” I barely manage not to drop the damn thing and juggle the glass until it’s safely set on the counter. I don’t recognize the number. I prop my walking stick and lean back against the sink as I connect the call. “Yeah, who is it?”
“Mr. Seth Tucker?”
“That’d be me. Who the hell are you?”
So I’m a surly bastard this morning. So sue me. Manon’s magical painkillers have long worn off, and I’ve got nothing to take off the edge. Maybe at the hospital I can get something off the nurses.
“Your mother would like to talk to you.”
