Page 29 of Shine Bright

Phoenix swallows hard and reaches for my hand. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see his jaw tense. I have to smile. He needs to get control of himself just as much as I do. But he still wants to go outside with me and dance in the rain.

And there it is again, that feeling of being close to tears, just because he wants to do this. Why? He doesn’t know me at all. But maybe that’s exactly it. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know who I am, so how can it be that after just a few hours, it feels like he knows me better than anyone else in the world? It’s like he sees me. Really sees me.

We leave the room and then his apartment, walking through a deserted hallway out onto a deserted street. It’s still warm, and it smells like summer rain. And somehow it smells like home, because it smells the same everywhere when it rains. That scent is impossible to describe, but everyone knows it.

I inhale the scent deeply, and something loosens in my chest. A knot of tension that I didn’t even know was there. Or maybe I did know, but I’d gotten so used to its presence that I stopped noticing it.

Phoenix brings me out onto the street. We’re completely alone, the rest of the neighborhood already asleep. Within seconds, we’re soaked to the skin. My hair is sticking to my face and neck, my dress is clinging to my body, and I don’t care. I also don’t care that my mascara is smudged in black streaks across my cheeks. For the first time in years, I don’t care what I look like, because tonight everything is different. I’m different. And everything is so much more real.

“Ready?” Phoenix asks, smiling as he reaches for my hand. My chest tightens with a feeling of longing and nostalgia. My eyes burn, and maybe I’m crying, but he can’t see it because my tears are mixing with the rain.

I smile. “Ready.”

Chapter 15

Phoenix

I’m on my way to my car when my phone vibrates. It’s just after six, so it must be Mom. Again. She’s been calling me every day at this time for two weeks, because Brooklyn told her when I finish work. And for two weeks, I’ve been ignoring her calls. My brother has been nagging at me for days to call her back, but ultimately, every conversation with Mom is like the one before. Neither of us feels better afterward, so I haven’t had the nerve to pick up so far. I still don’t, but I can’t ignore her anymore. Otherwise, my guilty conscience will kill me. I sigh, take my phone out of my pocket, and answer the call.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Finally. I thought you were going to ignore me forever,” she complains before saying hello. I grimace.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” I lie. “I was busy.”

“So busy that you couldn’t manage to call your poor mother even once to tell her you were okay?”

“I texted you.”

“That’s different.” She clicks her tongue disapprovingly, and I can almost see her sitting in the kitchen of her little house, a deep crease between her eyebrows and a cup of tea on the table in front of her, which is supposed to calm her nerves. I really wish it would help.

“Sorry,” I mumble half-heartedly, rubbing my temples. Talking to Mom on the phone always gives me a headache.

“I’m just worried about you.” She’s changing tactics, from reproachful to consoling, but that doesn’t change the fact that all I want to do is hang up right now.

“I know, but it’s not necessary. I’ve got everything under control.” That’s a total lie, but she doesn’t have to know that.

In reality, I don’t have anything under control, even though things are going pretty well. Francesca let me take over the first half of the morning classes twice this week, after I adapted my lesson plan with John’s help to meet her requirements.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m way too aware of Lia’s presence every day in the studio. The way she moves and dances seems wrong to me, even though her execution of the exercises is flawless. It also doesn’t change the fact that, despite everything, I want to talk to her.

And that’s the damn problem.

“Really?” Mom sounds so surprised that I have to roll my eyes.

“Yes, really,” I reply, unable to suppress the undertone of annoyance in my voice.

“That’s great,” she says cheerfully. “You know, I’ve been thinking it might be time that you talked to Brittany and Clark.”

I struggle to suppress a groan. So that’s why she’s been calling me. I should have guessed.

“Mom—”

“It’s time, Phoenix. You can’t hide forever.”

“I’m not hiding. They don’t want to see me.”

“That’s not true.”