The Hit List (30 page)

He’s my exception. He’s the one I put it all on the line for. He’s the one who deserves the benefit of the doubt from me. He’s the one I should fight to hold on to.

Not everyone in my life is going to be like Patrick. He hurt me and I’ve accepted that, but I haven’t moved on. I hold everyone to that standard. Everyone is placed on some unattainable pedestal where I judge them for not being perfect. People have been leaving for so long, but maybe that’s not it. Maybe I haven’t given anyone a reason to stay.

I let them all walk out of my life. It was easier than completely letting my wall down. When I got hurt and Patrick left, I gave up on him. Even here, when he asked me how L. A. was, I didn’t respond. And he never tried again. But of course he didn’t. Why would he? I didn’t give him any reason to.

Luke has stayed. Through everything I’ve put him through, he’s always been there. I’ve said terrible things, lost my faith in him, doubted him, accused him of faking his feelings for me. If I were him, I would have left a long time ago.

But he didn’t. Because he’s a good guy. He might have flaws, but who doesn’t? I can’t fault him for being human. I’ve been so focused on finding reasons to push people away that all I see are his flaws. I didn’t see the good he was trying to do. And yeah, maybe he could have done something different with The Hit List instead of pretending to play to try to figure out who was behind it, but his intentions were good. Everyone makes mistakes.

The music plays on around me, but I’ve stopped dancing. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, disgusted that I couldn’t really give him the benefit of the doubt even after I told him I would.

I walk to the stereo, quickly unplugging my iPod, and shove everything in my bag. The air feels cool against my skin as I run through the hallways to his room.

I pound on the door harder than I need to. He answers quickly, a look of surprise on his face.

“Hey.” I’m suddenly nervous.

“Hey.” He leans against the doorframe, blocking the entrance to his room.

“Can I come in?” I’d rather not have this conversation in the hallway.

He stares at me for a few moments before pushing off the wall and opening the door wider.

I pace the floor while he sits down on his bed. He watches me, looking curious and nervous.

“I don’t think you’re the one behind The Hit List right now.”

He frowns, his mouth opening and closing. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

I shrug. “I believe you didn’t want to be part of it anymore. I don’t forgive you for everything you had to do with the game, but I’m willing to start trying to move past it.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You seem to be the only one. Miss Catherine put me on probation. She says a few students came forward and said I launched the game. Probation means no school functions.” He glances up at me. “Which means no Fall Showcase.”

“They can’t do that. What kind of proof does she even have?” This can’t be happening. Things were supposed to get better.

“People named me, so it doesn’t matter.”

I sit down next to him on the bed. “It matters to me.”

He sighs. “Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” I say, watching him.

He grabs my hand, threading his fingers through mine. He doesn’t look up at me, instead focusing his gaze on our hands. “When I met you, you weren’t anything like I expected. I’d read that article about you and I thought you were just some hotshot ballerina coming to L. A. to prove yourself. I wanted to get closer to you because I thought I could shake your confidence. I even went so far as to throw out the suggestion of us partnering together to my mom. I wanted to keep an eye on you because I didn’t want you to be better than me.”

I grip his hand tighter. I’m worried about what else he has to say.

“I never expected for you to be how you are. And I never expected to fall in love with you. You are better than me, but it’s not just at dancing. You’re a better person than me. You make me want to be a better person.”

This must be what a real relationship feels like. Working through issues instead of running from them. I worry it’ll slip through my fingers like sand if I’m not careful.

I’ve never been good at relationships, especially the real ones, but maybe ours will be my exception. And while I can’t just go back to the way we were before he told me, I’m willing to work toward it.

We’re worth it. He’s worth it.

THE HIT LIST UPDATE

November 12

This will be the last update post. Here are the final numbers. Funny how, when you out all the players, no one can score.

~ THE HIT MAN

22

Sleep hates me.

It’s almost five-thirty in the morning. My alarm will go off in fifteen minutes. I groan and turn to face the wall, annoyed that this has happened every morning for the past four days.

I stare at the wall, knowing I won’t be able to go back to sleep.

Luke hasn’t been dancing with me for over a week. He’s not even technically allowed to be in the studios since he’s on probation. Miss Catherine only has the words from students, nothing concrete, but he remains on probation through the rest of the semester. It’s bullshit.

It’s still hard for me to wrap my head around Luke creating The Hit List. Just because I’ve decided I can put it behind me to get through Fall Showcase, doesn’t mean I forgive him. He might have been a horny teenager when he started it, but it was still an awful thing to create. It scares me that he was ever the type of person that could dream up the idea.

Once the semester is over, we might need to take a break. Things have happened way too fast since we were thrown together as partners. Maybe I’ll spend some time at home in New York. If I still have a home to go back to.

Harsh beeping comes from my alarm clock and I slam my hand against the snooze button to shut it off. Brielle turns in her bed, but she doesn’t get up. I slip out of bed, throw on some workout clothes, and grab my bag.

The walk to the studio is quiet. Most of the school is still asleep or has just gotten out of bed. The eerie night-mode lighting casts shadows down the hallway.

The studios are empty. I haven’t reserved time today, but I don’t care. No one is here, anyway. I enter the one I’m most familiar with, leaving the lights off. A light shines right in front of the door and it’s enough to brighten the room so I don’t run into anything. I don’t want to see myself in the mirror, see the haunted look in my eyes. I just want to dance and forget the world.

I plug my iPod into the stereo. Scrolling through my songs, I find the song Luke and I first danced to at the fundraiser and put it on repeat. Music blares through the speakers, but I don’t turn it down. The walls are mostly sound proof and the dorms are on the other side of campus.

My body is stiff at first, but the music relaxes me and it doesn’t take me long to fall into my old groove. The music consumes me and my heart soars as I let go.

It’s been such a long time since I danced for me. Such a long time since I’ve enjoyed it this much. Before I found out about Luke and the game, dancing with him was as close as I’d come to feeling like my old self. To feeling like I belonged in the studio again.

My body falls into the rhythm of a solo I haven’t done in two years. The moves are still cemented in my memory. I’d spent weeks trying to perfect it. Miss Leah, my teacher back in New York, wanted it to be perfect. She wanted to challenge me. It was the hardest technique in a routine I’d ever done. On top of the technique, I’d had to tell a story of a girl who’d fallen in love, something I had never experienced.

I practiced in front of Patrick for weeks, trying to nail the part. I had no problem with the technique. It was flawless, as always. But I didn’t have the heart, mostly because I had no idea what to feel.

I’d broken down crying one day. I couldn’t fake it, and everyone would see right through me. He told me I didn’t have to be in love with someone to be able to play the part. That I was already so much in love with dance, all I had to do was let it show through my dancing. I’d been so focused on loving a person that I’d forgotten about my love for dance.

I let myself forget about the concept, forget about focusing on my acting. And I danced. After the competition, he’d hugged me tight and said it was the best dance I’d ever done because I wasn’t acting. I was simply being me.

I smile as tears slide down my cheeks. I don’t know when I stopped dancing, but I stand facing the mirror now. I reach up and trace the lines on my cheeks from my tears.

A noise near the door catches my attention and my eyes flick to the entrance of the studio. A figure leans against the doorframe. It’s dark and I can’t see his features, but I can tell from his posture that it’s Luke. He walks into the studio, but stops several feet away from me.

“Hi,” he says.

“What are you doing here?” I’m surprised to see him. He’s not supposed to be in the studio.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

I stare at him, not speaking for a few seconds. It’s been such a struggle for me since he was placed on probation. I don’t know what to feel. I want to be able to forgive him for everything, but it’s hard to just forget. Even if he didn’t run it this year, is it okay that he was involved at all?

“I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“I’m really sorry, Sadie. I never meant for you to get hurt in all of this.”

But I did get hurt. I’m still hurt. “It’s fine.”

“Do you believe that I’m not behind that game this year?” His face betrays his calm voice. He’s scared to hear my answer.

“Yes.” And I do.

He slips his arm around my waist and I step into him. We move seamlessly. He pulls me into a lift and it’s easy to let him. He spins me and pulls me back to his chest. His left hand finds my right as his arm wraps tight around me. I rest my head against his chest as he softly sings the lyrics to me.

This is what it’s supposed to be like. This is how we should feel. This is what we should’ve been like since the beginning. But we’re here now and that’s all that matters.

The words get quieter until they’re gone, and I look up at him.

He squeezes my hand. “I have to go.”

I nod at him because I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, I’ll tell him we’re okay. I’ll tell him how much it doesn’t matter to me that he played the game.

But it does matter. I refuse to let him off the hook so easy.

His hand runs down my arm and tingles follow in its wake. “Don’t forget why you’re here.”

His hand still grips mine. When I’m far enough away that I can’t hold on any longer, I let my fingers slip through his.

Never in my life have I felt so alone. Luke isn’t allowed to dance with me. Even Miss Tasha left after teaching me the solo she wanted me to perform at Fall Showcase, but it’s not the dance I want to do. Miss Catherine had made an exception for me to dance a solo because of everything that’s happened, but it doesn’t hold the appeal it used to. I don’t feel whole without Luke on the stage with me.

Every day for the past four days, I’ve sat on this floor. I don’t have a solo ready for tomorrow. I push a button on the remote, letting the music wash over me.

I’ve replayed this song over and over since day one, hoping something will come to me other than tears. But the only thing that comes to me is the feeling of my body wrapped around Luke’s as he tries to pry me off.

It starts over for the twenty-third time this morning and I pull myself off the floor. I have to do this. I can use these emotions. Pour them into a solo that will captivate everyone and land me a job from the scouts at Fall Showcase.

If I can stay off the floor long enough to put something together, that is.

I try to focus on the counts instead of the words and it’s a little easier. I pull myself into a triple pirouette, but I’m shaky and I step out of a sloppy double before I fall. I lean against the barre, frustrated with myself, frustrated with the world.

When I came to L. A., I wanted to find myself. Now I’ll just be satisfied if I can get out in one piece.

23

I stare at myself in the mirror. At the caked-on concealer that covers my face, the dark and heavy eye shadow that makes my eyes pop, the fake eyelashes that touch my eyebrows when I look up, the ruby red lipstick so I don’t look dead under the lights.