Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He shrugged even though she couldn’t see him through the phone. The familiar ache and stiffness in his right shoulder reminded him he hadn’t stretched that morning. “I’m getting old, Er. It’s time.”
Her inelegant snort made him grin. “You’re twenty-five, which also happens to be my age, so don’t think I didn’t notice the insult there. Twenty-five is not old, Liam, even in the dance world.”
“It’s not young.” Fresh, new young dancers joined the company all the time, hungry for the lead roles and ready to usurp the twenty-five-year-old geezers.
“Okay, I’ll give you that, but it’s not old enough to throw away an incredible career where you travel the world and do the thing you not only love but are amazing at.” Her frustration came through the phone loud and clear. “I just don’t get it.”
Of course she didn’t. Who would? He barely got it himself. Yes, he was twenty-five, and he had an old shoulder injury that drove him bananas, but it hadn’t slowed him down. He never let it. He didn’t have to leave New York. No one had even hinted that he’d reached the downslide in his career. His instructors, fans, and company members loved him and had been flabbergasted at his decision to end his career so early.
But, as he’d mentioned to Erin, this had been his plan for a decade. He wanted to bring world-class dance lessons to a place that never had it before. And he’d chosen Swan, Oklahoma, as that place. Swan was a small Midwest town surrounded by cornfields. The closest dance studio was an hour away in Tulsa. The children of Swan didn’t have the opportunities he and Erin had growing up for many reasons. Access to studios and teachers, financial hardships, and stigmas were a few reasons the studio he’d purchased had closed its doors and remained vacant for over fifteen years.
Liam planned to change all that.
A hefty inheritance from his grandmother and a successful career as a premier ballet dancer had given him the means to bring his dream to life. In exactly one month, Dance For All would open its doors to the rural town of Swan. He’d provide expert dance classes for toddlers to adults at affordable prices. Bringing his passion to rural communities was the dream he’d harbored for more than a decade.
Liar.
“Li?”
He blinked. “Sorry, my mind wandered to my six-foot-long to-do list.” Blowing out a breath, he strode to the center of the empty studio room. Staring at himself in the wall mirror, he said, “I know you don’t get it, Erin. But this is what I want. This is what makes me happy.”
“Hmm.”
His eyebrows winged up. Maybe he should have FaceTimed her instead of calling. It was always easier to pick up on subtleties when he could see someone’s face. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He scoffed. “Nothing? Since when do you hold back?”
“Since never,” she said with a laugh. “I just know this is a sensitive topic for you.”
“Erin…”
He could practically feel her rolling her eyes. “Fine, I’ll say it. I think your burning desire to move to Bumfuck Oklahoma is less about your passion for teaching and more about you having something to prove to the world.”
Her words were sharp arrows pinging off his non-existent emotional armor.
“That’s ridiculous.” He might not have armor, but he had denial. And nervous laughter.
“Is it? If you were here right now, could you look me in the eye and tell me you’re not out there in the middle of nowhere trying to prove something to yourself and the hillbillies who live there?”
“Don’t call them hillbillies. It’s rude,” he muttered.
What were the chances she wouldn’t notice he avoided her question?
Slim to none, most likely.
“You’re saying it wasn’t hillbillies who—”
Oh no. No, no, no. “Don’t go there, Erin. Please don’t go there.”
His shoulder throbbed.
Erin sighed, and a heavy silence fell between them.
Damn her for calling him on his bullshit. Weren’t besties supposed to turn a blind eye to their friend’s shortcomings? Not that he and Erin had ever rolled that way, but he just couldn’t do this today. Or ever. “Er…”
“Okay. I get it. I’ll stop.”
He could practically see her lifting her hands in surrender. “Thank you.”
“So,” she said after another silence. “What are you planning to do on your first Friday night in Swan, Oklahoma? A hay ride? Maybe some cow tipping? Oh, I know. You’re gonna go pick some corn and eat it fresh from the stalk or whatever it’s called.”
Liam laughed, and the tension dissolved. “You know cow tipping isn’t actually a thing, right?”
“Pfft, don’t ruin my city-girl stereotypes of rural America.”
“Actually, I think I’m going to drive to Tulsa and check out this club called Stardust.”
“Ooh, Stardust. Might this be a gay club?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Erin, there are gay clubs west of Manhattan.”
She sniffed. “Sure, but I bet they’re not as good as ours.”