Page 10 of The Way We Touch
“No.” His response is flat.
“You know how un-cool it is to tease a story like that and then not tell me what happened?” Allie’s black flip-flops smack against the distressed heart pine as she walks back to us.
She places the empty tray on the counter, her blue eyes narrowed. Her short ponytail bounces happily when she moves, and she’s dressed in a light blue T-shirt with our logo on the front—three turtles on a log with crossed pool cues.
“Freshman year, Nutcracker rehearsals,” I start. “We’d been reading about how the dancers in New York don’t wear underwear beneath their tights when they dance, and we were all about emulating the American Ballet Company back then.”
“Okaaay…” Allie’s brow furrows as I continue.
“I cannot believe you’re telling this.” Craig walks to the PA system in the corner behind the bar.
“Of course, the first time I tried it, in the middle of a shoulder-sit…” I don’t finish the sentence, and she hesitates.
Then her whole face flashes with horror. “Nooo… Not that.”
“That.”
“On his shoulder?” she whispers, glancing empathetically at Craig.
“You. Swore.” He is not amused, but I confess, it was so long ago, I really can laugh about it now.
Allie pulls her lips in and bites them, dropping her chin to hide her face. “It’s so awful.”
She can barely get the words out without breaking as she follows me into the kitchen to the big stove. I take the lid off a pot of fresh salsa and carefully add half the minced ghost pepper. I also toss in some grated onions and cilantro and give it a stir before covering it again.
“See all the knowledge you have?” She’s doing her best to put an optimistic twist on the most embarrassing moment of my entire dance career. “Those teenage girls would be lucky to have you as a teacher. You could save them from… That.”
Our eyes meet as we return to the dining room, and we snort through our grimaces.
“You are both dead to me,” Craig snips as he passes us. “Dead.”
“You have to do it, Dylan,” Allie begs. “We’ll get to see each other every day all year!”
“I don’t know.” Heaviness still lingers in my chest. “I’d have to work it around my schedule here.”
“Craig can keep things going during the day. This place practically runs itself.”
“Do girls even care about ballet anymore?”
“Yes! And I’m sure I could get Austin and his friends to take your class if you need them. I’ll say they get to lift pretty girls, and I won’t mention the possibility of Aunt Flo making an appearance.”
“I thought he was going out for the football team this year.” Austin will be a freshman in the fall. “I’m not sure he’ll have time to take a dance class.”
“He might.” She shrugs. “Your brother Jack is pretty… something.”
A hint of a grin plays around her lips, and she sucks so bad at hiding her massive crush on my “hot” oldest brother. Too bad since his divorce, he only seems to care about that high school team and his little girl.
It’s crazy how life just keeps on going no matter what it throws at you.
“I’ll think about it some more.”
She does a little squeal, and I smile. “Oh! Did I mention Garrett’s bringing a friend home with him?”
“You did not!” Craig is suddenly back in the conversation. “Who is he? Or better yet, what position does he play?”
“He’s a receiver. Logan Murphy? I think he’s a big deal, but aren’t they all now?” All of my brothers became stars in their own right, following in our father’s footsteps.
“Lightning Murphy?” Allie yells from the opposite end of the dining room, where she’s unlocking the screened-in back porch where the pool tables are located. “He is fire! I saw him on the Deux Moi Instagram with some six-foot-tall stick insect.”