Like that?

Like what?

And then I realized what song had been playing. “Then He Kissed Me” by The Crystals.

He and I weren’t going to be like that couple in the song?

I tightened my jaw. Yeah, no shit. There was no ‘us’.

“Leave her alone, Damon.”

“Suck me, Fane,” he shot back.

I stopped breathing for a moment, registering the sudden sharpness to his tone. God, he was different.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I don’t want to talk to you. And you’re not supposed to talk to me.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and he didn’t move. Was he staring at me?

I faced forward, ignoring him.

After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “I was Winter’s first kiss, ladies,” he told everyone, despite that we had another guy at our table. “I was eleven. She was eight.”

I felt him nudge closer, and his voice dropped a hair. “I wonder how many guys have kissed you since. But then, I guess I don’t really care, because I was first, and that’s all that matters.”

I balled my skirt in my fists. I wanted him to go away. “Don’t think for a second that you were any good at it, either,” I replied.

“And don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because you’d trip over a speck of dust if someone wasn’t holding your hand to walk ten steps.”

I heard a snort from somewhere farther away, my lips tightened. “I’m not scared of you.”

“It’s early.”

I shook my head. “What do you want?”

“To pick up where we left off.”

Where we left off? He nearly killed me when we were kids. There was no moving forward.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he mused. “I have a short attention span, and you interest me at the moment. I have questions. Like, can you see anything?”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Anything at all?” he pressed. “Shapes, light, dark, blurs…? And is it true that when you lose one sense, the others heighten? Your sense of smell, hearing, …” he paused, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Your sense of touch?”

The little hairs on the back of my neck rose up, and my blood heated under my skin. Everyone was watching us. I knew they were.

Just ignore him.

“And since you don’t have the use of your eyes,” he kept going, “do you have the reflex anymore to squeeze them shut? Like when you’re in pain or…when you’re excited?”

Another little laugh somewhere down the table. I turned away a little, worried they could all see how hard my heart was beating.

His words were filled with innuendo. I almost forgot he was older for a moment, our age difference at eight and eleven seeming much bigger now that we were in high school. I was too young, and he was being inappropriate. I kind of got the impression—judging from how he spoke to Rika—he was like that with everyone, though.

“Do you remember what I look like?” he asked. “I’m bigger now.”

I turned toward him, knowing my eyes wouldn’t meet his. “I remember everything. And I don’t hurt as easily anymore.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

The edge back in his voice spread chills up my arms, and every inch of my skin felt electrified. I could feel his eyes on my face, watching me, and there was a mixture of dread and anger inside me, but also anticipation.

Excitement.

While he hurt me years ago, and there was no doubt he was now ten times the asshole I knew back then, a small part of me liked that he didn’t tread softly around me. He didn’t coddle me. He didn’t ignore me.

He didn’t act nervous, scared of me, or treat me like I was fragile. Maybe he thought I was an easier target, or maybe he didn’t scare as easily as some. Whatever it was, part of me kind of liked it.

And part of me wondered how he would respond if he found out I didn’t scare so easily, either. It was obvious from the others that no one liked to deal with him. He was used to having things his way.

“What are you doing?” someone spoke up, making me blink.

I turned my head away, coming back to the moment and registering that Ari had come up behind me. Before I could figure out who she was talking to, though, Damon slowly rose from where he straddled the bench next to me.

“Just saying hi to your little sister,” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

I felt him leave, and Rika shifted next to me, blowing out a long breath like she’d been holding it.

“He’s not supposed to come near you,” Arion said, and I guessed she was talking to me.

“Tell him that,” I muttered, feeling for my sandwich where I’d left it on the table. “I didn’t make him come over here.”

“Don’t tell the administration or Mom or Dad. The basketball team needs him, and I’m not having him get in trouble because you can’t deal.”

I picked up a half but didn’t take a bite.

“He was here first,” Arion pointed out. “You get him expelled, and everyone will hate us.”

Yeah, no doubt. I knew about the order Damon got to stay away from me this morning before school started, but I hadn’t entertained the possibility he’d actually disobey it. Was he stupid?

Or maybe he just thought he was that untouchable. He came right over here and sat down, knowing that at least half the eyes in the cafeteria would be on him and witnesses to what he was doing. And he did it anyway. Maybe he was overly confident, purposely reckless, or…uncontrollable.

Uncontrollable. That was the boy I remembered.

But my sister was right. He’d been here longer, and no matter what he did, they’d blame me if he got in trouble. For now, I’d handle him myself if he didn’t quit. And I’d do it quietly.

It still pissed me off that my own sister’s first instinct was to protect the basketball player, though.

I lifted my chin a little. “Thanks for your concern,” I told her. “It’s touching.”

“Oh, gimme a bre—”

“You can go now.”

“What are you—”

“Jesus, you’re still here?” I blurted out, cutting her off. “Well, make yourself useful then and open this.”

I reached for the bottle of O.J. on the edge of the table where I’d left it, found it, and handed it to her over my shoulder.

Juice splashed out from where the cap wasn’t tightened properly, and I heard her gasp.

“Ugh, Winter!” she yelled.

I winced. “Oh, it was already open? Sorry. I’m so blind.”

Laughter broke out around the table, and she let out a growl, her mumbled curses fading away as she stomped off. Or I pictured her stomping off. Not sure if she actually did.

“Oh, shit, girl,” Noah said, knocking me lightly in the arm. “You are my hero.”

I gave a half-smile, a little pleased with myself. Also a little aggravated that Arion and I were at war at all, but like Damon, I kind of appreciated the normalcy of it. Arion didn’t put on airs to protect my feelings. She just treated me like I was stupid, as if learning how to live all over again six years ago didn’t make me tough and quickly adaptable to change and new challenges with a hard heart ready to fight for all the things they told me I couldn’t have and couldn’t do.

Maybe that’s why Damon treated me like I wasn’t made of glass. Maybe he knew.

I thought back to the boy in the fountain, bloody with a silent tear streaming down his face, because something—or many things—happened to him that he didn’t want to talk about, and now he was nearly a man who would never cry again and only made other people bleed.

I hated him, and I would never forgive him, but maybe we had that one thing in common. We had to change to survive.

Winter

Present

“Arms up!” Tara called out.

I reached up, leaping across the floor, the muscles in my back and shoulders stretching tight as I tilted my head back and my face toward the sky.

“There’s the energy!” she shouted. “Let me see it again! Good!”

I exhaled as I hit the ground again, my right foot landing on the border of sandpaper lining the perimeter of the “stage” to signal when I was within two feet of the edge. Beyond that, there was another six-inch-wide border to alert me I had no more room and to stop.

Sweat trickled down my back, and I swung around, veering right again as I stepped, glided, and then arched my back before coming up on one toe and stretching high for a moment’s pose and coming down again to continue the dance.

The music filled the room, my unconventional number of Nostalghia’s “Plastic Heart” choreographed by me and soon-to-be performed at nowhere for no one.

No one would hire me. I tried to stay positive, especially since I needed out of here more than ever, but it was getting harder and harder to not feel stupid for leaving college.

Tara was one of my instructors growing up, and I continued to rehearse at home, but I also came to the studio from time to time, since my father had paid for five hours a week for room rental until the end of the year. I didn’t want to use anything he left for me, but I sucked it up as an excuse to get out of the house. Damon hadn’t been back since the wedding days ago, but it was only a matter of time.

And I loved it here. I only thought about dancing here and nothing else.

This was where my earliest memories of dancing were, and I guessed I was luckier than some. There was a time I could see, and I’d had four years of ballet training before I lost my sight. I knew how pliés and arabesques felt and looked. I knew movements and steps, and I knew a little technique. I’d continued with a private trainer when I went to Montreal, even though I knew my prospects weren’t good for a career later on. I’d always known the reality.

I’d have a hard time in a chorus with other dancers and especially with a partner. It wasn’t impossible, but everything took longer to learn and not many would accept that challenge.