Side By Side

8.

I had managed to keep up with Jake the entirety of our hour run, but my lungs were on fire by the time we had circled back to the park. When the sky had gone completely dark I made sure to text Nancy and tell her Jake was giving me a running tour of the town.

It wasn't even half as insufferable as I had imagined when Jake had first insisted on tagging along. We would try for breathless conversation every time we passed something of importance.

"That's the theatre that Lily and Marcus's Dad owns," he told me as we quickly approached the ancient looking building. I looked at the listed movies, they were as ancient as the building.

"West side story? Singing in the rain?"

"Yeah... we always get movies three months after they come out. While we're waiting for the next batch, Mr. Smith always plays oldies to 'educate the youths'," I laughed.

"I'd like to meet Mr. Smith,"

"I'm sure you will sometime," Jake talked for the majority of the run, and I was thankful I didn't even need to make a peep.

Main Street was quickly approaching when we made a left but before we could fully round the corner I stopped in front of a particular building.

"And over there there's— Addi?" Jake had jogged a couple paces before stopping and sauntering over to my side. I gazed up at a building nuzzled between a barbers shop and a book store. 'Stardust studios' the sign above the door read, with 'Riverbanks' premier dance studio' under it in smaller printing. The cursive was hard to read in the dark, but the little pairs of ballet shoes on either side of the text were unmistakable.

"It's the premier dance studio because it's the only one in town," Jake said with a laugh from beside me. The lights inside studio were off so you could only see Jake and I's reflections in the glass.

I felt the ache intensify. Dance had meant a lot to me, it was another way to make my parents proud, something they loved to see me do. It felt like a past life, dancing in competitions, my parents in the audience with roses to give to me when I finished, no matter how poorly I did.

When I didn't say anything Jake spoke again, "You still a dancer?" He prompted.

"No, I guess I'm not anymore," I told him snapping back to reality and making eye contact through the reflection.

"Not anymore?" He asked as I turned and started to run up the street.

"I was training to be a professional ballerina," I explained.

"You must've been good then. What happened?" So much had happened, so much that I was absolutely not willing to explain.

"I wouldn't have made it," I told him, "I'm not what they're looking for— not tall enough, my left ankles a little weak because of a past injury," Jake laughed.

"That's all? If that's the only problem I think you're probably too good for those stuffy dance schools anyways,"

"I also didn't want to do it," my words were breathy and a little hard to understand.

"Why not? Did you not like it or something?" he looked at me an waited for my answer.

"No, I love to dance. But think about it this way— are you planning to go into the NFL because you're on varsity football?"

Jake shook his head and his hair fell across his forehead, "I guess that makes sense. Why'd you quit,"

"I didn't exactly quit I— I just had to move here. I've only been out for two months or so," I wasn't completely lying, I only had been out for two months, physical therapy had kept me flexible and strong when or if I needed it.