Chapter 10

As much as Ophelia didn’t want to admit it, Kayley’s questions nagged at her.

Where did Devon come from? How did he just show up? And his clothes … why hadn’t she asked him any questions? He just appeared, and they danced.

Ophelia took out her diary and wrote down everything that had happen, all the feelings she felt. When she looked at the clock, it was already eight. She’d missed dinner. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t hungry again. Thinking about Devon had ruined any appetite she might have had.

After putting the diary away, she thought about what to do. Kayley was right—the whole thing with Devon was a little weird. But she just couldn’t believe anything was wrong with him. She just needed to ask him some questions, that’s all. Maybe even ask him out—out of the studio and into public. She smiled at the thought. She’d love to show him off, although she didn’t want any other girls to get any ideas. He was hers and hers alone.

She thought.

She chewed her fingernails. They were going out, right?

Bouncing her knee, she tried hard to distract herself until midnight.

Finally, at twenty to twelve, Ophelia ran up to the studio. She did halfhearted warm-ups and felt her heart beat hard again. She wished she’d eaten. She still felt weak from the day before, and as she did her stretches, she started feeling woozy. Just as darkness threatened at the corners of her eyes again, she saw him.

As usual, he stood in the moonlight. She walked to him, ignoring her advancing lightheadedness.

“My Giselle,” he said and took her hand, pulling her to him. She melted into him, breathing in his woodsy, spicy smell. Wasn’t there something she was supposed to do? She tried hard to think of it, but all she could do was feel his closeness, his hand on her back, the muscles along his arm, the cold breath on her cheek. His eyes bored into hers, and she couldn’t think of anything else but the dancing.

Ophelia stumbled a little during one turn, and for a split second, Devon’s face contorted in anger. It was enough to snap Ophelia out of whatever trance she was in.

She stepped back from him. “Where are you from?” she asked.

He looked confused. “I’m from here. Now come. We must dance that last part again. You ruined it.” He waved his hand, urging her forward.

Ophelia wanted more than anything else to come to him. She felt absolutely ashamed that she had stumbled. She wanted more than ever to fix it. But she forced herself to ask again:

“No, I mean, are you from town? Are you a student at another ballet school? Why do you wear the same clothes every night? And why don’t we ever go out?” She swallowed and asked the biggest, hardest, most important question. “Am I your girlfriend?”

Devon’s expression softened, and he came to her again, pulling her close.

“Darling Giselle,” he whispered in her ear, “there is no one else but you. You are my partner.” He began to lead her in the same steps they’d danced before.

Ophelia relaxed into him and let the moves take her over. She didn’t need to think. She didn’t need to question him. She was the only one for him. He’d said it.

As the turned on the dance floor, Ophelia whispered, “I love you.”