“I’m messaging Carly. Just one more second. Two more seconds.” Another kiss on the side of my neck, softer, and I close my eyes, tilt my head. “You’re the worst. Okay. Brief break.” I turn and put my arms around his neck and I kiss his smile, and kiss him a lot, and his arms around my waist are so good.

Downstairs, apparently, there’s a line of guys being signed in to come join us. Up here, Nevaeh is standing on a chair and Taylor’s got her calves, steadying her, saying something ridiculous, as she slaps Velcro tape on the walls, to drape them with the fabrics we used for our burlesque show. We have boxes and boxes of shimmering, shining decorations, and slowly the room is getting transformed. A little bit of nostalgia, already. Is it too soon? Happiness, then. I have to finish writing my message and help them.

I break the kiss, murmur, “Just one second, I promise,” against his lips, and slap his butt as he goes to set up the Bluetooth speaker. Elsie is pushing couches to the walls, and people are pushing through the doors.

Thank you Carly, I type. I really want to talk to you too. Been doing more research. I’ve been reading about the Brooklyn Studio of Dance, and about Gibney in Manhattan. Classes, contacts. Maybe a way in.

She’ll pour me tea on Sunday, and I’ll explain that, yes, I really am still okay, and we’ll brainstorm some more.

“Ready?” Jack says.

“Half a second, I swear,” I say, as the music kicks on, and I laugh at Jack as he starts to very earnestly, but with great abandon, dance completely off-tempo.

I turn to find my bag, and the screen flashes again.

Joffrey San Francisco—would like to extend an invitation to join our summer intensive in … and I see the word scholarship.

The lights in the room go out, and the music is suddenly blasting, and my screen is so bright.

“You for-real ready?” Nevaeh says.

“Come on!” Katherine shouts.

“Put your phone away!” Taylor says in my ear. He holds out his hand, I slap it in his palm, and he slips it into his back pocket. And then the bass goes boom, and he grins at me, grabs my hand, and yanks me through the crowd that’s already gathered, more people slipping through the doors every minute. Someone pulls up the window, and Zoe’s arms are around my waist, her hug fierce, the music not stopping.

“Oh my god, no, I am not going to do a striptease,” I say to Ellory, who grins at me and says, “I wish I could have seen you all,” and I don’t hug her but I want to. We smile big at each other.