“It’s not awful,” I was finally able to say. Because I wanted to be a part of it with him, too. I wanted to dance ballet with Jude.

As soon as I admitted that to myself, I realized something else. I’d been wrong about “Finishing the Hat,” but so had he. It wasn’t art or relationships. Art or people. It really was both. An artist’s relationships with people could change what she created, for better or worse. When I danced with Jude as the Vamp, my feelings for him let me use my body in a way I never had before, and it felt new and intense and terrific. What would ballet feel like with Jude?

What would ballet feel like when I was in love? Because I definitely was. In love. With Jude. I opened my mouth to tell him, before I lost the courage.

“And just so we’re clear,” Jude said, “I’m not trying to be romantic or anything. I heard you when you said you didn’t want that, and I totally agree.”

What? No. No, no, no. “Jude—”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve been doing some thinking, and I realized I’m not ready for a relationship anyway. I’m…” He broke off with a heavy sigh. “I’m still dealing with a lot of stuff about my dad leaving. I thought I wasn’t, but I am, and I don’t want to put that on you. Or anyone,” he added quickly.

My mouth hung open. I wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter if he was still dealing with stuff. I was, too, and it didn’t mean we couldn’t be together. But I realized that wasn’t exactly true. It would always matter to me if he was hurting. “What kind of stuff?” I asked quietly.

Jude closed his eyes for a second. “As much as I wanted to believe I was completely over my dad’s opinions… I apparently still really care what he thinks about me.”

“Oh.” I was confused. I thought he hadn’t seen his dad in a long time and hadn’t planned on seeing him again anytime soon.

“I went to lunch with him,” Jude said, his mouth tight. “After he left me that voice mail.”

That surprised me. At Fly Zone, he’d seemed so sure he wouldn’t. “When?” I asked.

“Last week. I figured, why keep running away from him? My plan was to look him in the eye, answer every single one of his judgmental questions honestly, and fuck what he thought.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”