He nods. "Sure, you’re too smart to lie to us about something so important. Also, I believe that you are here to make amends to us; that you want us…and Edward especially, to forgive you."
I shift my stance. "And do you think you can?" I swallow. "Forgive me."
He looks me up and down. "No."
4
"Dancing lets me escape, it allows me to transfer my thoughts to the rhythm of the melody instead of concentrating on the depressing details of my teenage life..."
-From Ava's Diary
Ava
"Thanks, Ava, that was a great session." The last of my students waves at me as she departs the studio.
I gather up the scarves I’d used during the lesson, which had gone better than I’d expected, actually. Especially, considering that my mind had not been on it. How could it be, when it had been occupied with not one, but two men? How is it even possible that I’ve gone from being a virgin to being fucked thoroughly by a man who’d broken his vows for me…to being strongly attracted to another—all, in less than a week? Hell, in less than twenty-four hours!
Hell. I deposit the scarves in the basket at the far end of the room, then turn to where I’d plugged in my music. This had been my third class of the day and I still have too much pent-up energy in me. Maybe I should try to compose another routine? Something I could use in yet another Eastern-themed wedding that Isla has been asked to organize.
I switch on the music, and as the beats ofKiss Kissby Tarkan fill the room, I close my eyes and sway. Shuffle my feet, shimmy, allow the rhythm to grip me, sway my hips, grind them, let the vibrations travel up my thighs, my belly.
"Holy shit, girl, you’ve got some moves."
I yelp, snap open my eyes. "Isla," I press my palm to my chest, "you scared me."
"Sorry." She holds up her hands. "I did ring, but you didn’t hear me over the music, so I decided to come inside anyway. It’s okay, isn’t it, that I am here?" Her forehead furrows. "I’m not disturbing you or anything, am I? You did give me the passcode to the studio, after all."
"You're good." I turn and switch off the music.
In the silence that descends I feel my heart bumping against my ribcage. "It’s all good." I turn to her. "I was just prepping for my performance at the next wedding you are organizing."
"Ah," she nods, "you mean Liam’s wedding?"
"Liam’s?" I gape. "You mean Weston’s brother, Liam?"
Her lips turn down, then she smooths out her forehead. "The very same. He’s marrying some society heiress or another. Which is great."
"It is?" I watch her closely.
"Of course, it is. The joining of two big families, the wedding of the year, almost as big as a royal wedding, and I get to organize it. It’s going to be great publicity for my little company."
"So why don’t you look happy?"
"What do you mean? Of course, I am happy." She pinches both sides of her lips, widens her fake smile until I am sure her cheeks hurt.
"Okay, that’s creepy."
She switches off her smile. Lowers her chin. "You’re right. I have mixed feelings about it."
"Because you like Liam?"
"Like?" She laughs. "That’s not the word I’d use for how much I’d like to slap that annoying smirk off his face, right before I throw myself at him and lick those luscious lips."
"So," I say cautiously, "you do like him?"
"I hate him." She sets her jaw. "But we are not talking about him."
"We’re not?"
