Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Maybe it’s time to change things up,” I said slowly. You deserve to be happy, my mother had said, and I let myself believe that. I’d been waiting for some sort of professional purpose, but what if my calling was something altogether different?
“Do you want to play another game, or do you need to talk to Alexander?” Chris asked.
I blinked. How had Chris guessed the direction of my thoughts when I was only now sorting them out?
“Why would I do that?” I pursed my lips, uncertain as to his motives here.
“Dude.” Troy groaned as if running out of patience with me. Understandable. I was also a bit sick of my moping. Shaking his head, Troy pointed over my shoulder. “He’s right behind you.”
Thirty-One
Grande battement: a big kick of the leg.
Alexander
“Alexander.” Rudy’s eyes were wider than one of Irma’s whoopie pies as he whispered my name. He waved his hand of cards in front of his face as if testing to see if I were a mirage. I could forgive his disbelief because I was also shocked to find myself here.
“This is so sweet.” Ari did a mock swoon into her girlfriend’s arms before digging for her phone. “I need a picture.”
Getting up from the table, Irma tapped my arm. “Have you eaten, dear?”
“Uh. Not really.” I’d had a long, mercifully direct flight to Philadelphia, then a train ride, then a walk to the game store, and food hadn’t exactly been a priority.
“I’ll fix you a plate.” Irma hauled Ari and her phone along with her to the food table.
“I’m feeling a burning need to do some card inventory.” Troy also stood up and motioned at Chris. “How about a hand?”
“Nothing I’d rather do than count cards.” Chris was chipper as ever as he trailed after Troy, leaving me and Rudy to stare at each other.
All the hours of travel caught up with me, and I sank onto the chair next to Rudy. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He licked his lips. No smile. No dimples. Only uncertain eyes and nervous hands. “What are you doing here?”
“I missed you.” There was so much else I wanted to say, but all the other reasons came back to that one. I missed him. I missed him so much that I’d browsed flights on another sleepless night after my conversation with Victoria. I missed him so much that I skipped Friday class. I’d missed him and missed him, and now I was here, and if he sent me away, I might melt into a puddle, never to recover.
“I missed you too.” Rudy hadn’t smiled, but I exhaled anyway. He’d missed me. We could build from there.
“Good.” I gave an uncertain chuckle. “I mean not good. But misery loves company and all that.”
“Misery is a good word.” Rudy shuffled his cards around in his hand. “I knew I would miss you, and goodbye was still so much worse than I expected.”
“Same.” I gave a helpless shake of my too-pale hand. “I’m not sleeping. Food tastes wrong. I go to class. I walk the city because my apartment isn’t yours. It’s too damn quiet, and my head is so loud.”
“I see reminders of you everywhere.” Rudy matched my confessional tone. “I’m not entirely sure you’re actually here.” Finally, finally, I got the smallest of smiles from him. “I might be dreaming.”
“You’re not dreaming.” I reached for his free hand and squeezed his fingers. “I’m here.”
“Yes, you are.” Rudy squeezed back. “But what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in rehearsals for the Valentine’s weekend show?”
“I took a personal day.”
“Alexander Dasher took a personal day.” Rudy sounded understandably skeptical. “Alexander Dasher, the legendary workaholic who once danced a critically acclaimed performance with a one hundred and two-degree fever, is playing hooky for me?”
“Yep.” I nodded. “I needed to see you more than I needed Friday’s class. We need to talk.”
“We do.” Rudy dropped my hand as Irma arrived with a plate piled high with food for me. Rudy’s gaze swept around the room at all the curious eyeballs pretending not to watch us. “Maybe not here. You eat. I’ll pack up my stuff.”
He’d ordered me to eat, so eat I did. He’d agreed to talk, and my chest already felt lighter than it had all week. Simply sharing the same air as Rudy was as restorative as a two-hour massage.
“I can’t believe you came back,” Rudy said once we were alone and on the walk back to his place. I hadn’t asked yet, but I was hoping he’d let me sleep over and save me from sneaking into my parents’ pool house late at night. I shivered at the thought, and Rudy stopped under a streetlight to adjust his bags so he could take my hand. “I was going to come to you.”
“You were?” I blinked. Thank goodness he hadn’t given in to that impulse, or our flights might have passed in the sky like some bad rom-com scene.