Damaged (11 page)

CHAPTER
15

That letter is still in my English textbook. I haven’t looked at the book since class, and now I’m acting like it’s been possessed by a poltergeist. I hid the textbook in my closet under all my clothes, trying to forget about it. I don’t want the letter to touch anything else, but I can’t bring myself to throw it away. My brother is a total ass, but he found me. It means something’s wrong. I don’t want anything bad to happen to them. It still stings that they didn’t take my side, that they didn’t defend me, but I don’t wish them harm.

But t
he thing is, if I open that letter and find out what’s going on then I’ll be starting over again. I don’t think I can manage the pain that goes with it. I don’t want to rehash things. I don’t want to tell them why I ran. I just want that part of my life to be over, but it’s not. It seems as though it’ll never end because it keeps popping up unbidden and unwelcome. Plus, my asshole ex-boyfriend was my brother’s best friend. I don’t know if he still is, but I don’t want to reestablish any connection with him at all. All of them are dead to me. That entire life was burned to ash when I walked away.

My phone chirps
, pulling me away from my thoughts. I look down at the screen. It’s Peter.

Meet me at the gym at 6:15. I found a new move we can try.

I write back,
We r talking about dancing, right?

Lol
. There is absolutely no
coffee
involved.

That makes me laugh. I punch in,
Fine. I’ll be there. C u later.

So much for some down time.
It’s already getting late. I told Millie that I’d show her and Tia some basics before club. They’re waiting for me downstairs. I’m wearing yoga pants and my hair is pulled into a messy ponytail. I’m not wearing make-up. In other words, I look as if I just rolled out of bed. I pad downstairs in my socks, with my dress shoes in hand.

Millie got the dorm director to giv
e us the big living room so we won’t kick each other quite so much. Based on last week’s dancing, most of the club still needs shin guards.

I walk into the living room
, not really paying attention. When I glance up, I stop in my tracks, and my eyes go wide. There are more than two girls standing waiting. There are more than twenty. “Millie!” I whip my head from side to side, looking for her.

Millie
appears in front of me. She’s grinning like she won the Miss America pageant. “It’s awesome, right?”

“You said it was just me, you, and Tia,” I hiss at her.

She realizes I’m upset. “What? Bigger isn’t better? I thought more girls meant the club would attract more guys. And that’s not a bad thing, right? Maybe we can find some closet swing dancers so you don’t have to dance with Dr. Granz all the time.” She winks at me. I stare at her with my mouth hanging open. I wonder what she meant by that, but I don’t ask.

“You still suck.”
Millie smiles. Somehow telling Millie that she sucks has become tantamount to telling her that I’ll do something.

She hugs me. I stiffen in her arms. “Sorry! I forgot
about the no hugging thing.” She holds up her hand and fist bumps me. I roll my eyes as she skips across to the front of the room and introduces me.

When I met Millie, she was a hugger. She hugged over everything. I didn’t. We came to an agreement that hugs
are reserved for prolonged partings and death. That’s it. At least, I thought that was our agreement. It seems like she’s figured out how to steal hugs more frequently. Millie’s turned into a hit and run hugger. I don’t know why she doesn’t just give up on me.

Millie
has gotten everyone’s attention and is explaining the Swing Dance club, and how hard it is to get something new going. She tells them the basics and about the meeting later tonight, and then introduces me. “Sidney is so awesome at this. You’ll have to come to club later and see her dance. I swear to God, you’ll think she’s amazing. So come on out! And I’ll make sure we get enough guys there to make it worth dressing up.”

“We dress up?” someone asks.
It’s Jen. She’s an Asian girl with tan skin and silky black hair.

Millie explains swing clothes
, and tells them that they probably already have a lot of that stuff in their closet, while I put my shoes on. I look so stupid. I’m wearing T-straps with yoga pants. I look really weird. At least there aren’t any guys here. It’s the only benefit of an all-girls dorm.

After Millie’s done, she says, “All yours.”

Nerves tickle up and down my arms. Hysterical laughter wants to burst from my mouth. I hate public speaking. Millie really sucks. My gaze shifts her way. Apparently Millie can read my mind, because she sticks out her tongue and then grins like a sadistic monkey.

“Okay, if you’ve been brought here against your will, blink twice.” I’m joking, but a few girls blink. “Damn, I was kidding.
” A few people laugh and I realize that they’re nervous, too. “I know how you feel, because I was under the impression that there’d be less people here, but let’s make the best of it.”

Millie cuts in,
“Yeah, I kinda said we’d only have a few people, but when they found out it would just be a few girls, I ended up with more people than I thought. But I have to tell you—swing dancing is really fun. It’s a great way to exercise - thrilling and sexy all rolled into one. Dancing is a way to get to know a guy, and I mean really get to know a guy. Everything from the way he leads you around the floor to the way he spins you, says something about him. I learned a lot about Brent after we finally stopped kicking each other.” She laughs. A few girls smile at her.

“What about throws?” someone asks. “I’ve seen stuff where the girl gets tossed into the air.”

I answer, “The throws are like riding a roller coaster without a seatbelt. Once you get the basics down, the club will move into more advanced stuff. Pe… Dr. Granz and I usually show off some advanced moves at the beginning of club. It helps you see what you’re aiming to do. If that kind of thing appeals to you, we can work up to it.”

After that
, we get into the basics. I have the girls line up and start showing them how to count off the steps. That’s all we do. For about half an hour we count and rock-step our way around the room. Toward the end of the class—or whatever it is I’m doing—girls pair off. They’re pretty much kicking each other. They look up at me like I taught them wrong.

“This isn’t working!” Tia says as she kicks
Jen in the shin.

“
Suck!” Jen curses and tries again.

Waving my hands at the front, I say loudly, “You’ve been taught the girl part. The assumption is that you’ll be dancing with a guy. The guy’s part isn’t the same as ours. That’s why you
’re kicking the crap out of each other. Listen!” I clap my hands and they all stop. “Later at club, if you want to dance with your friend, one of you needs to reverse your moves. And, the guy always leads.”

“That’s so sexist!” Someone calls out from the back of the room.

I smirk. “Yes, it is. And you need to make sure you dance with a guy later. The concept is one thing. Doing it in action is another.” I’m a control freak, but dancing is different. It’s a place to let someone else lead for a while. I wave and tell them that I’ll see them later.

CHAPTER
16

I have just enough time to go upstairs and change before I see Peter. I run up the staircase and grab my stuff. After showering quickly, I twist my hair up into a high, sleek ponytail. Then I grab a sundress I found in a thrift shop. It’s dark blue with buttons down the front. The V-neckline makes me look stacked. I’m not sure what I think about that part, but it fit so well and the skirt was perfect for this. I wonder if I should change—my cleavage is a bit much—but I’m running late. Besides, it’s nothing worse than what the other girls wear. I just don’t usually wear stuff this revealing.

I pull on a pair of bike shorts under my dress, and then put the T-straps back on. After swiping some mascara on my eyelashes, I look in the mirror. My cheeks are rosy. I don’t have
that listlessness about me anymore. I’m smiling. I don’t even think about it, but I’m grinning, and I know it’s because of Peter. Part of me is glad that things never progressed the night we met. He’s turned into a great friend. I’m not sure if that would have happened if I slept with him. Well, okay, let’s be honest. We wouldn’t have been friends at all. Peter would have been an awkward acquaintance that I avoided like the plague.

As I leave my room, I bump into Tia. She’s wearing a robe and her hair is wrapped in a towel. She’s walking back to her room from the showers. “Hey,
you heading over there already?”

I nod. “Yeah, Dr.
Granz wanted to go over a move with me before you guys show up.”

Tia’s eyes dart to the side. She glances up and down the hallway and then leans in. “Is there anything going on with you two?”

I jerk away like she hit me with an iron. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Sidney, but I had to ask. People have been saying how hot Dr.
Granz is and how much time you guys spend together. Someone said they saw you guys at the library, and then eating at the swank place across town.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I told them they were crazy, that you wouldn’t do something like that.”

“But you asked me anyway.”

She nods. “You’re going to meet him early, to practice a dance that you said is sexual.”

I sigh way too loud. “That’s not what I meant. I was talking about you guys.”

“So it’s sexual for us and not you?”

“
It’s not like that.” I don’t have time for this and I can’t understand why people keep saying it. “You can dance with your brother, right? There’s a difference.”

“He’s not your brother, Sid.”

“Whatever. I’m not sleeping with him, if that’s what you’re asking.” I’m so irritated. I want to bite her head off. It’s so hard not to. I keep locking my jaw as the conversation goes on and the weird thing is that I don’t know why I’m so upset? So what if people think I have a crush on Peter?

But that isn’t it. The crush isn’t bothering me.
It’s innuendo, the broken propriety, and it’ll get Peter in trouble. I don’t want anyone questioning his morality. They can question mine. I’d wave my hand in the air and say that I’m a moral deviant to keep the attention off of Peter. Maybe I should do that.

My eyes flick up to
Tia’s face. I lean in, feeling the lie on my lips. Tia mirrors me and gets closer. “I have a crush on him, okay. But he doesn’t encourage it. That’s why we’re together a lot. I’m stalking him.”

She clasps her hands together under her chin and squeals. It sounds like someone stepped on a pig. The noise keeps going, getting higher and higher. I try to smile and bounce up and down
the same way she is. “I promise I won’t tell a soul. But this is so exciting. He’s so much older! Oh, and since it’s totally forbidden, it’s insanely hot. I can’t wait to see what this guy looks like.”

I shush her. “Keep it down. I didn’t even tell Millie. Don’t say anything, okay. If things look weird, it’s my fault. Listen, I have to run. I’ll see you later.” I glance at my watch and then dart down the hallway before she can say anything else.

_____

“Come on, Peter. Put the moves on me,” I say as I walk across the old gym.
I realize I’m flirting and feel a bit silly for a second. I’m not sure where it came from. When I saw him, I just wanted to tease him and have that banter I’ve grown accustomed to when Peter is around.

Peter is sitting in the bleacher
s, watching something on his phone. He looks up when I speak. “Colleli. You’re late.”

“I had to take care of something. I’m here now. What’s this new dance you wanted to sho
w me?” I sit next to him and look down at his phone. It’s a couple dancing, doing the usual steps, twists, spins, and throws. It’s a pretty good routine, actually.

“It’s the throw at the end. I can’t figure it out and I haven’t seen it before.
Watch.” Peter’s eyes slip over and rest on the side of my face for a moment before returning to the screen. My lips part as the couple gets to the end of the song. They’re really good. I gasp when they perform a death spiral. The woman’s head comes so close to the floor.

I start to ask if that’s what he wanted to show me, but Peter says, “That’s not it. Keep watching.”

I watch. As the music crescendos, the dancers pull out all the stops. The last move is hypnotic. The woman is in the guy’s arms and then he flings her out. It resembles a variation of the Hustle, but then they do something and she’s suddenly airborne. The guy catches her as she twists in the air. They swoop down together and he holds her in a bow. Both dancers smile and the video stops.

“Holy shit.”
I blink like I didn’t just see that.

“I know, right?” Peter says, looking baffled.

“What the hell was that? I mean, I’ve seen a lot of crazy dances, but that looked awesome. I’m not even sure what they did.”

“Neither am I. That’s why I wanted to show you. I’ve seen plenty of
moves, too. This one is a variation of other stuff, kind of mashed together. That dip at the end looked like a modified death spiral.”

I glance at him. “You realize this could be fake, right? I mean, how did she get that kind of height? He didn’t
seem to throw her, and she didn’t jump.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not. This is a dance studio in New York.
It’s the video to used attract new students, so it shouldn’t be fake.”

“Play the end again.” Peter rewinds the dance and plays it again. We both stare at it, trying to figure out what they did. Part of the problem is that the camera is at a bad angle. I can’t see their hands right before the lift. I shake my head and point at the screen, saying as much to Peter.

“I know,” he admits. “I was hoping we could figure it out.” I give him a look that says,
hell no
. “What? No spirals?”

“I’m not doing anything with you where my head gets that close to the floor, so no.”

“Why not? I thought if you were okay with throws, you’d be okay with this.”

I shake my head and glance at the yellow wooden floor and think about getting my fac
e ripped off if he drops me mid-spin. “No. No way.”

“No way?” he’s smiling. “Well, now we have to do it.”
Peter takes my hands and pulls me up off the bleachers.

I laugh and tug away from him. “You don’t even know how to do it. You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious.”

“More like you’re never serious.”

He laughs. “Yeah, that too.” Peter folds his arms over his chest. He’s wearing his white dress shirt, but removed the tie. Dark slacks cling to his narrow hips and those saddle shoes are on his feet. Dark hair hangs in his eyes. “No dips? No head dives?”

“Nope.
Sorry.”

“W
hat if I gave you a helmet?” Peter’s eyes sparkle a little too much. He’s teasing me.

“Then I would
definitely say no. The helmet means you expect my head to collide with the floor. Besides, it’ll ruin my awesome outfit.” I hold onto the hem of my dress and pull it out as if I’m going to curtsey.

“Ah
,” he says, walking toward me. Peter slips his hands around my waist and music clicks on. He starts dancing, pulling me along with him. “Then, there is a possibility.”

“What part of no is confusing you? I thought you were an English teacher. You seriously have issues with this?” I’m
smiling. I love teasing him. Peter’s face lights up and he teases right back.

“First you said no, then you said
defiantly no. So, I’m thinking there’s wiggle room.” He grins and pulls my wrist. We both spin, and then I follow his lead and shoot out from him. Peter tugs me back and I twirl into his chest and the dance resumes.

My breathing is harder. The dance is getting faster. “We’re not wiggling anything.”

“Are you sure? You’d look cute in a helmet. I have a pink one with a red bow on top.” I stop dancing and try to stand there and stare at him, but Peter doesn’t let me. “No stopping, Colleli.” He snaps my wrist and pulls me to his chest. Damn, he smells good. 

We swirl aroun
d the gym, talking, teasing. The subject rolls over a million different topics. Then, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

The smile slips off my face. My face is covered in a sweaty sheen and my dress is stuck to my body. I look into his eyes. They’re locked on mine, waiting for an answer to a question that I thought he’d never ask. “I… don’t know.”

Peter nods and looks down at his feet. When he looks up again, I feel horrible. It’s as though that was the worst thing I could have possibly said to him. “That’s something I hope for.” He rubs the toe of his shoe against the gym floor. His shirt is wrinkled, stuck to his chest.

“Why?” I breathe. It seems so pointless. Why would it even matter?

He smiles sadly. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t have asked you something like that.”

“You can ask me anything.” I look down at my hands. They’re together and I’m twisting my index finger. “I guess
, I do trust you to some degree, probably more than I trust anyone else, but I don’t think that’s what you’re asking.”

“What did you think I was asking?” He’s so close. Peter stepped into the space between us. He’s looking down into my face, watching me so closely. It makes
me shiver.

“
I thought you meant, do I implicitly trust you with my life. With a throw like that. With anything and everything.” I shake my head. “I’ll never trust anyone that way again.”

He nods slowly. “You’re an enigma.”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Maybe.”

“You trust, but you don’t. You let me in, but you keep me out.” The way he’s looking at me makes me nervous. Peter’s gaze is so intense, so raw and
vulnerable. Maybe I should have lied? No, he can see through me. He doesn’t need dancing for that. Peter holds up his hands. I take them and he leads me across the room in a slower waltz so I can catch my breath.

“Can I ask you something?”
I ask as Peter leads us across the room. He nods. “Where’d you learn to dance?”

A shadow creeps over his face and his smile disappears. “Gina.
My girlfriend. I keep calling her my fiancé, but she wasn’t.” He swallows hard and lets out a rush of air. We turn around the floor as he speaks. “She liked to dance. I sucked at it. She taught me.” He smiles sadly.

“She taught you well.”

He nods and a fake smile lines his lips. I can tell that he’s chasing away old memories with a broom. Peter’s gone silent. We dance. He spins me slowly. My dress flares out around my knees. He watches the fabric flutter before pulling me back into position. “What about you? Who taught you to dance?”

“I’m self-
taught for the most part. I don’t really know what anything is called. We talked my gym teacher into doing a unit on dance in high school. Weird but true. Way better than volleyball again. I can only get hit in the face so many times a day.”

He laughs. “Volleyball’s not your thing?”

“Coordination’s not my thing.”

“But, you’re dancing.”

I smile up at him. “And you’re leading. It’s different. For one, there are no balls.” My face flames red when I realize what I just said.

Peter chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, I might disagree, but since we’re not playing with them, I’ll just pretend you didn’t say
it.”

I try
not to laugh, but I can’t help it. I try to pull my hands away and slap him, but Peter grips me tighter. The playful smile slips off my face when he holds me that way. We stop moving and stare at each other. My lips are parted. There was something I was going to say.

Peter looks down at me, his face
so close to mine. His breath tickles my lips as he breathes. I want to lean into him. I want his arms around me. I don’t know what he’s thinking. When time stops like this, Peter looks lost. His entire body tenses and relaxes at the same time. I wish he’d do something, say something.

A
ll the air is being forced out of my lungs. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” he breathes, still watching me. His eyes flick back and forth between mine. His gaze doesn’t dip to my lips.

A slow smile spreads across my face. “Liar.” I lean in closer and press my forehead against his. “Just tell me.”