Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
“I’m so sorry,” I say, clucking with sympathy. “That must’ve been devastating.”
Celeste smiles wryly. “Devastating is an understatement. I was depressed for about a year. Inconsolable, really. Then my PT told me about a dance school her sister’s daughter went to needing teachers. It was maybe another six months of being angry at the suggestion before I came around to the idea.”
The woman at the grill puts down three baskets of Korean tacos and skewers with waffle fries in front of us. Between Celeste and her brother, eating with this family means bringing my appetite. Thankfully, no one’s ever accused me of leaving food on my plate.
“And you enjoy it now? Teaching?”
“Oh, I love it. The kids are wonderful. I hadn’t realized that ballet wasn’t fun anymore. Before my surgery, I was obsessed, but I don’t think I loved it the way I can now. Seeing them practice a new skill until they perfect it and how excited they get, even coming in to hang out with their friends. I’m happy when I leave work at the end of the day.”
Her face takes on a calmness as she speaks. Serenity. I get it. It’s like how the library is my happy place. We aren’t complete until we’ve found our passion.
“How’d you get into ballet? Just pick it up one day, or…?”
“Our mum. She was a dancer before she had us. She’s still quite active in the London arts world.”
Her phone buzzes on the counter, and she glances at it. The spark that flares in her expression at the name on the screen gets me intrigued.
“Oooh. Who is Roberto?” I pry.
She licks her lips to smother a smile. “A good friend.”
When I refuse to break eye contact while we each finish our taco, she caves to my curiosity.
“He’s a benefactor of the dance school. A philanthropist of the arts, in fact. And quite a nice man.”
“An older man, huh?”
“Forty-three in October.”
“Wow. Much older then.”
That’s not at all what I expected. A gorgeous twenty-two-year-old like Celeste must have an avalanche of Instagram dudes filling her DMs.
“Don’t mention it to Lee.” She types out a quick text before sliding the phone in her purse. “He gets all bent out of shape about it.”
“Secret’s safe with me.”
I bite into another taco, then douse my tongue with a gulp of water to put out the fire. I was not expecting such an aggressive level of heat.
“What about you?” she counters. “You have a boyfriend at home?”
“No boyfriend.” I drink some more water. My tongue is numb. Not sure I can feel my teeth either.
“Fancy anyone? Any fit lads in your classes?” Whatever my face does, it makes Celeste put down her taco. “That’s a yes. Who is he?”
“No one. I mean, there’s a guy or two I think are attractive, but it’s nothing. They’re both off-limits anyway.”
“Excellent! Forbidden love is the best kind.” She pouts. “Come on. Give me something here.”
I hesitate. Then I groan. “Promise you won’t say anything to Lee?”
“Promise.”
“Ugh. Fine. I might be lusting over a flatmate.”
She gasps. “Don’t you dare say Jamie!”
“What’s wrong with Jamie?”
“Oh Lord, it’s Jamie?”
“It’s not. I’m just wondering what’s wrong with him.”
That gets me a snicker. “Oh, darling, we don’t have that kind of time. So it’s Jack then?”
I don’t know whether it’s the embarrassment or the spice flaming my cheeks. I reach for my glass in case it’s the latter.
“Maybe,” I say after taking a deep gulp of water. “I mean…he’s hot. Don’t you think?”
Her eyes sparkle. “I believe that’s another understatement.”
“What’s his story?” I push, all pretenses of playing it cool now forgotten. “Dating wise, I mean. He never brings girls home, but I assume he’s not celibate or anything.”
“Um, no, he’s not celibate.” She laughs to herself.
I tense. “Oh. Are you two…?”
“What? No, no, nothing like that. I’m just saying—the boy gets around. I don’t think he dates so much as fucks and runs. He probably doesn’t bring women home to deter them from getting attached. Jackie doesn’t seem like he’s looking for attachments.”
“Fucks and runs, huh?” I mull that over.
She lifts a brow. “I suppose the question is—what do you want from our dear Jack?”
I smother another groan. “Honestly, there’s no point even talking about this. Like I said, he’s off-limits. I got a very long lecture when I first arrived about the perils of sleeping with a flatmate.”
“The Jamie rule,” she confirms with a nod.
I laugh. “Exactly. Anyway, I think I’d better look elsewhere for romance. Or sex. Or both.”
“Actually, that reminds me,” she says. “I’m meant to go to a polo match in a couple weeks. Come with me. I promise a slew of eligible talent for your perusal.”
I went to a water polo match once in high school, because Eliza’s boyfriend was on the team. I was doing great until they all filed out of the locker rooms like a school of Speedo-wrapped penis fishes. I couldn’t stop laughing. I don’t know, it was some strange nervous response, leaving me in absolute hysterics on the bleachers. Eliza had her hands mashed over my mouth and was practically burying my head in her lap while moms and even the referee on the side of the pool with his little whistle in his mouth stared at me with irritation.