The Right Moves (The Game #3)(23)
Author: Emma Hart

My lips curve upwards. “Then the red number isn’t necessary,” I say almost sadly, the smile dropping from my lips as I drop the sleeve. “I can’t see myself having a relationship any time soon. If ever.”

I shrug a shoulder, and Mom grabs my arm.

“Abigail Jenkins,” she begins, turning me round to her. “One complete and utter bastard does not represent the male race. They might all be a bit stupid sometimes, but Pearce Stevens is most definitely in the minority. One day, you’ll meet someone that will be worth all the effort that comes with having a true, life-changing relationship. It might not be today, it might not be next year, but you will. And when you find him, I expect you to wear this dress with a pair of killer heels and knock him on his ass so hard he can’t sit on anything except for a rubber ring for the next week.”

“Mom…” I roll my eyes.

“No.” She cups my chin, bringing my eyes to hers. “You, baby girl, are stronger than even you know. I can see it in your eyes right now. One day you’ll find a man who will love you the way you deserve to be loved, and he will treat you like the princess you spent your childhood claiming you were. This dress may be sat in your closet for however long, but you buy it, and when you meet him you damn well wear it.”

I sigh and stare again at the dress. Mom’s right – I don’t even have to wear it yet. Besides, by the time I’m ready to wear it, my scars might not bother me so much. They might not control me the way they do right now. When I wear it, everything won’t be so raw. Maybe the feelings and the memories will be as smooth as the skin that’s healed.

“Okay,” I acquiesce. “I’ll get it.”

Mom smiles and grabs my size from the rail, whisking it off to the counter to pay before I can blink. She returns a few minutes later with a triumphant smile, handing me the bag.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

“It’s not the first time I’ve bought you a dress.” She laughs. “But you’re welcome.”

“For the dress, and for making me have it.”

Mom wraps an arm around my shoulders as we leave the store. “Just make sure you save it for the right guy. And you let me buy you the shoes.”

“You bet.” I laugh. “Hey, Mom?”

“Mm?”

I curl into her side the way I used to as a child. “Thank you. For being there and never giving up even when I did. I don’t…” I look down. “I don’t know if I’d cope if I didn’t have you.”

“Oh, honey.” She squeezes me. “You don’t need to thank me for anything. You’re my baby, and I’m always going to be there. You should never give up on something you believe in, and I believe in you. So, thank you for not giving up even though you think you did.”

She’s right. I didn’t give up, not really. Not in my heart. If I’d given up in my heart I’d still be in my room at St. Morris’s.

My cell buzzes in my jacket pocket, and I pull it out to see I have two messages. One from Maddie asking me about Hot British Guy, and one from said Hot British Guy asking what I’m doing.

Just shopping with Mom. Going home now, I reply.

Work sucked. I’m at the studio. Want to practice?

I’m in NYC already but I don’t have my stuff. It’ll take an hour to get it and back.

Damn it.

“Hey, Mom?” I grip my phone tightly.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering… You know Bianca has us doing a grand pas de deux?”

“Hmm.”

“My dance partner just text me. He wants to practice, but I don’t have any of my ballet stuff with me. I was wondering… If… Maybe… We could get him from the studio? And we could practice in the garage?” I look down as she unlocks the car.

“This is Hot British Guy, right?”

“I…” I look up to her smiling face. “Dad is such a teenage girl sometimes.”

Mom laughs. “I agree with you completely, Abbi. Tell him we’ll be there in ten minutes.” She winks and gets in the car. I take a deep breath, wondering if I’ll regret this, and tell Blake to wait outside.

~

“This is the hot British guy?” Dad asks after I introduce him to Blake.

“Dad!” I half-yell, my cheeks flaming. “Oh my god,” I mutter.

Blake turns to me with a raised eyebrow.

“I… Go back to your paper, Dad. Geez.” I glance at Blake. “Follow me.” I lead him through the kitchen and into the garage-come-studio to the sound of Dad’s raucous laughter. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I run up the stairs, change, and come back down as I’m tying my hair into a bun. Dad’s still laughing to himself in the front room, and I poke my head round the door and point at him threateningly.

“You!”

He just laughs louder.

“Don’t encourage him, darling.” Mom pats my shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll calm down soon.”

“He’s a bloody nightmare,” I mutter.

“She’s… even… talking like one,” Dad wheezes out through his laughter.

I screw my face up and flick my spare hairband at him. It hits his paper and falls to the floor. Mom rolls her eyes, sighs, and announces she’s going to work in the office. Dad winks at me, and I smile.

“Hey, Dad?”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“You do realize I just embarrassed you, don’t you?” he frowns at me.

“Yeah. But I kinda liked it. It’s the thing a parent of a normal person would do, you know? You’ve never treated me like glass like Mom does sometimes.”

“Normal is overrated. Now, go and dance with your hot British boy.”

“Blake,” I call over my shoulder. “His name is Blake.”

“Eh, same thing.”

I shake my head and push the door open. Blake is leaning against the barre, his arms folded across his chest, and he smirks at me as soon as I shut the door behind me.

“Hot British Guy, huh?”

“I so did not say that,” I lie, turning away. “It was Maddie.”

“I’m starting to think she had an ulterior motive for coming to that dance class.”

“Do you watch a lot of movies or something? ‘Cause you’re so wrong.”

“Mhmm.”

He’s standing right behind me, just a whisper of space between us. I swallow the bubble that rises in my throat and try to relax. His body moves to the side of me, and he places his hands on my stomach and waist. I move en pointe, knowing dance is the only way I’ll be able to combat the uncertainty and anxiousness rising in my mind.