Page 27 of Unforgettable You

Her list was interesting and there were a few hidden gems on it that I didn’t know about, which was surprising, given how much time I spent on the main fanfic site looking for something new to read or asking other people online for recs.

For a half a second, I’d thought about sending her one of my fics, but then I’d changed my mind. What if she read it and hated it? Her opinion wouldn’t destroy me, but it would still hurt if she read something I’d poured myself into and she thought it was awful. There was only so much vulnerability I could take and that was going too far.

There was a chance that she’d run into it on her own, depending on her fandoms. The fics she’d sent me weren’t in any of my fandoms, thankfully. She might run across it, though. I’d written for some very popular fandoms, but I was a small fish in a big pond, so I wasn’t one of the top authors, but I’d also written for smaller fandoms too.

More than a few readers had asked if I would ever pursue a career as an author and I’d never taken it seriously. Professional authors weren’t people like me. They went to college and got degrees and took their writing seriously. Yes, I took my fanfiction seriously, but only because I didn’t have to. If I made it a job? That would make me hate it. Make me resent it. Would make me not want to do it anymore.

It was like dance that way. When I’d just been taking dance classes as a kid for fun, it had been my favorite thing in the entire world. You couldn’t get me out of the studio. And then my mom had pushed me into more advanced classes and had taken me on auditions and before I knew it, I was in college and dreading waking up every day and standing at the barre for hours. I’d even stopped smiling. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed.

When I went back to my hometown during the holidays, people would try to be nice to me, but I could see the horror on their faces when they saw me. Pale skin, hollow cheeks, no energy. I’d been a ghost. Of course my mom had said I looked wonderful and made sure that I was sticking to my diet when the truth was that I’d barely been eating enough to get through my classes.

Things had come to a head when one of my teachers had pulled me aside and asked me if I was okay. I’d broken down and cried for three hours on the floor of the studio. She’d taken me out to a diner and forced me to eat a full breakfast plate while she listened to me tell her how miserable I was. How I had come to hate dance. How I didn’t want to do it anymore, but I didn’t know how to stop. I was less than two years away from a dance degree.So close.

My teacher had given me some hard questions to think about and that night I had officially withdrawn from school.

That was nearly six years ago, and I had no regrets except wishing I had done it sooner. But maybe I wouldn’t have reached my breaking point if I hadn’t gone to school for dance. If I’d quit before I was truly ready, I might have always wondered if I should have followed through. Now I knew that dance was not my future. At least not as a professional performer.

For years I hadn’t had any fun, so now I tried to do as many things that brought me joy as I liked. Hiking, reading, writing fanfic, spending time with my friends, resting. Just letting myself take naps and be lazy was a huge revelation. The idea that I could just be and didn’t have to be grinding and hustling and pushing and striving all the time. There were millions of people on the planet who were just regular humans with no dreams of fame or the spotlight. Who just went to work and came home and had hobbies and enjoyed themselves.

I didn’t want to give up everything to be on the stage. For me, it wasn’t worth it.

I still had no idea what I was going to do with my life, but I was much better at being okay with that. The first few months after I’d quit school had been rough, not to mention the epic fights I’d had with my mother.

She hadn’t attempted to contact me in three months, which was the longest time I’d been able to breathe. I hoped it would continue, but she had a way of popping up just when I was especially vulnerable.

Are you free around noon tomorrow? I’ll make you lunch. Sophie’s message couldn’t have come at a better time. I had about an hour until I needed to leave for my shift at Sapph and I didn’t need to spend it obsessing and worrying about the past. Sophie was a welcome distraction.

Deal. Your place?

Yup.

Now I had something to look forward to before work tomorrow. I’d have to get up a little earlier than I normally would, but that was okay. I’d just have lunch for breakfast.

Do you have any requests? I was just going to make some sandwiches or a salad or something. Sophie asked.

Whatever you make is fine. I’m not picky. When it came to free food, I’d take what I could get without complaining. As long as she didn’t feed me chicken salad with raisins in it, but I didn’t think Sophie would do that.

You got it! She responded. Even her messages were bright and cheerful. Sophie really was a little ray of sunshine when she wasn’t a ball of anxiety.

Biting back a smile, I made myself some dinner and puttered around until it was time to go to Sapph. It wasn’t going to be a bad night because Hunter and Stace said they’d come by. As much as I complained about my friends showing up when I was working, I did actually love it. Made the time go faster.

Tonight was Thirsty Thursday and there were a number of events going on at the bar. We had trivia nights, karaoke (which I tried not to be on the schedule for), theme nights, and anything else our owners could dream up to get people in the door and buying drinks.

Being at Sapph was sometimes no different than performing on a stage. I just didn’t have to wear pointe shoes while I bartended, which was a plus.

There was a bachelorette party in full costume waiting outside for the doors to open as I sliced limes and I tried not to groan when they cheered and walked in.

“It’s gonna be one of those nights,” my coworker Maddie said.

“That’s every night,” I said, bumping my hip against hers before we headed to the customers clamoring at the bar for drinks.

“Make me your most complicated drink,” a voice yelled at me a few hours later. One of these days I was going to get my hearing tested and find out that working here had damaged it. The music was always too loud, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I turned and found Hunter leaning over the bar with Stace standing next to her and grinning.

“Shut the fuck up,” I told her, but I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll get you anything you want as long as it’s not a pain in the ass to make.”

Stace asked for whatever beer was on tap and Hunter got one of our house mixed drinks. They opened a tab and I told them that if they hung out for another ten minutes, I could take a break and hang with them for a few.