I was about to tell him I wanted to be so much more than that. That I understood he was going through stuff but I loved him anyway, and we could figure it out together. But then he looked at me, and his eyes were wet, and my heart plummeted. Because it hit me, just how hard the past two years must have been for him. How he carried it all with him, even though it sometimes seemed like he didn’t. How terrifying it would be to start a relationship with someone who’d already hurt him once. I wouldn’t put him through that.

I forced my mouth into a smile. “Yeah. Of course. Friends.”

He smiled, blinking the tears out of his eyes. “Good.” He took a few seconds to compose himself. Then he gave me a light, horrifyingly platonic punch on the shoulder. “And friends help each other finish their hats.”

As I tried to fall asleep that night, two thoughts kept circling around in my head.

I can’t do ballet again.

I can’t just be friends with Jude.

But then I stopped myself. Why not? I’d gotten kind of good at doing things I thought I couldn’t do. I just needed to be brave. And to ask Mrs. Sorenson and Ms. Langford for one more really big favor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“HI,” JUDE SAID AS HE WALKED into the empty auditorium on Saturday morning, pulling off his navy puffy coat. My mouth dropped a little, because he wasn’t wearing his usual rehearsal attire of gray sweats and a Fly Zone shirt. Instead, he wore a fitted white T-shirt and opaque black tights—pretty much the standard uniform for boys in ballet.

“That’s… a good outfit,” I said as he joined me onstage.

“Thought I’d look the part, at least.”

My heart did a funny throbbing thing. Jude had worn ballet clothes. He was showing respect for ballet, for what we were about to do. It made me want to kiss him, but that was nothing new.

This past week, things had been all right between us. We’d talked and laughed, and we weren’t just being civil. We really were friends again. And even though I couldn’t help but want more, I was happy to have him back in general. I tried to focus on that part.

Jude squinted as he took in my fast breathing and the sheen of sweat on my forehead—proof I’d been dancing for a while. “Am I late? I stretched before I got here, so I’m ready to start.”

“You’re not late,” I said, trying not to smile.

“Oh, good.” He scanned the auditorium. “Is Kira late?”

“She’s not coming.” My grin broke out then, I couldn’t contain it anymore.

Jude smiled, too, even though he was still confused. “So… who’s teaching us the dance?”