Page 63 of Movers and Fakers

The only problem? I have no idea if she feels the same.

Chapter thirty-one

The Jewelry Box

Aurora Driscoll

I bend down and pick up a stray hair pin off the tile floor. The classroom turned dressing room is quiet. All of the girls are out with their friends and family. I’m almost always the last to leave on recital nights. After a constant barrage of noise, it’s nice to have a moment to decompress before throwing myself into a throng of people again.

Once I’ve picked up all of the trash and stray bits of costumes left behind, I head to my duffel bag and double-check that I have everything I need. I eye my sweatpants with longing but know better than to change before my mom can get pictures of me. With all the effort that went into the costume, hair, and makeup, it is nice to get some more wear out of it than such a short performance, but I’m ready to be in something less itchy and get all of the bobby pins out of my hair.

I’m zipping up my bag when the door to the classroom clicks open. I look up, expecting one of the dancers to be looking for something, then freeze when I see Hayes smiling at me.

“Your mom said you’d be back here hiding,” he says as he steps inside, juggling a pink gift bag and a bouquet with too many roses to count in one glance.

My lips part. I have no idea what to say. It would be stupid to ask if the roses are for me, because who else would they be for? But they’re so beautiful and extravagant that it feels like they can’t possibly be for me.

“I got these for you.” Hayes answers my unasked question. “I realized about halfway through the recital that I have no idea where you’re going to put them—” He laughs. “But I can buy you a vase, or several vases.”

I breathe out a laugh. He crosses the room, and they’re even more stunning up close. Each rose, both pink and white, is pristine. There are no torn pieces or brown-tinged petals. Pink lace ribbons tie the stems together and hang down.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmur. “Too much, especially for a children’s recital, but beautiful.”

He gives me a sheepish grin.

“I might have gone overboard.”

“Just a little,” I reply with a smile.

Hayes extends the pink bag, his green eyes twinkling.

“There’s more?” I take it from him. Our fingers brush in the process, and a fluttering feeling builds behind my rib cage.

“I saw it and thought of you,” he says simply.

I shoot him a curious look, setting the bag on a nearby desk so I can pull the tissue paper out.

“You were amazing tonight, by the way,” he says in a low voice. “And you look gorgeous.”

Heat crawls up my neck at his compliments. I’m about to stutter a thank-you, when I see what’s in the bottom of the bag. My hand grasps a small ceramic heart, with a miniature ballerina on top.

“A jewelry box,” I whisper. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

I look up to meet his gaze. His expression is soft and warm. I don’t know what to make of it or this thoughtful gift. If I were in a store, this would draw my eye.

“Open it,” he says gently.

My brows draw together, but I do as he says. The top clinks and I gasp. There, on a bed of pink velvet, is a pair of silver swan-shaped earrings. I lift my head. Hayes is watching me like his next breath depends on my reaction.

“Hayes,” I breathe out, tears stinging my eyes. “I—”

The door slams open.

“Miss Rory, Miss Rory!”

A few of the little girls I teach come rushing inside, each holding an adorable teddy bear wearing a tiny tutu. Behind them, I can see my family and friends gathering in the hallway. Hayes must have been sent to get me, and when he took too long, they came too. I quickly close the box and set it back in the bag, attempting to gather myself before the girls launch themselves at me.

I laugh and blink away tears, wrapping them up in a hug as best as my costume will allow.