Chapter 11: The Skirt

Sabrina's POV

I wasn't looking for Elliott that night.

I was locking my bike to the rack behind the arts annex when I heard piano music coming from the second floor.

The window was lit.

I told myself I would only look for a second.

The old dance studio has a wall of mirrors and a floor the color of honey.

Elliott was in the middle of it.

He was wearing black trousers, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled, and a long black practice skirt tied at the waist.

He was dancing.

I don't know a lot about ballet, but I know when someone is doing something hard and making it look easy.

He went up on the balls of his feet and turned three times, perfectly still in the middle of the spin.

Then he came out of it, landed softly, and held his arm out, and his whole face changed.

The cool, elegant Elliott Wainwright was gone.

This one looked ten years old and entirely happy.

I think I made a sound.

In the mirror, his eyes found me in the window.

The music kept going and he stopped dead.

I opened the door and came in, because it seemed worse to run.

"Don't stop," I said. "The song's still playing."

"I can't," he said. "This isn't something I show anyone."

Keep reading free with an account. Start She Chased the Campus Heartthrob, Then His Friends Came After Her from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.