HANNAH
The morning sunlight filtered through the windows as I sat in the living room, my legs tucked beneath me on the couch. My mind was a whirlwind, replaying the events of last night over and over. Jeremy’s kiss—intense, overwhelming, and unforgettable—lingered in my thoughts like a stubborn song I couldn’t shake.
I chewed on my lip, trying to focus on the movie playing on the screen, but it was impossible to concentrate. Every time I tried to focus, my thoughts betrayed me, pulling me back to his touch, his words, his lips. What am I supposed to do now?
“Comfortable?” His voice cut through my thoughts, startling me.
I turned to find Jeremy already settling down beside me. He sat closer than I expected, his arm casually draped along the back of the couch, and I swore I could feel his warmth radiating toward me.
"Y-yeah," I stammered, shifting slightly, unsure of what to do with the sudden proximity. He didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he did and just didn’t care—because he leaned closer, a contented smile playing on his lips.
“Good.” He reached for the remote, flicking through the movie options like it was the most natural thing in the world to be this close to me, his arm brushing against mine.
I tried to act normal, but my heart raced at the casual intimacy. His scent—clean, woodsy, and distinctly him—seemed to wrap around me, making it even harder to breathe. I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He looked so at ease, so sure of himself, it was infuriating. Did last night not affect him at all?
As the movie started, I felt his arm slip from the back of the couch, coming to rest around my shoulders instead. My whole body tensed, but he didn’t seem to notice—or he was pretending not to notice. His fingers brushed against my shoulder lightly, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
“You’re too stiff,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Relax.”
Relax? How was I supposed to relax when he was practically wrapping himself around me? I didn’t respond, keeping my eyes glued to the screen as if the plot was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen. Spoiler: it wasn’t.
The minutes ticked by, and I started to lose track of the movie altogether. His presence was too overwhelming. I was hyper-aware of every movement, every shift. And then, just as I thought I might explode from the tension, I felt it: his head dipping lower, resting gently against my shoulder.
“Jeremy?” I whispered, unsure if he was awake.
He didn’t answer. His breathing was slow and steady, warm against my neck. I froze as I realized his face had found its way into the crevice of my neck, his nose brushing lightly against my skin.
Oh my God.
He was asleep. Completely and utterly relaxed, his weight leaning into me as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I sat there, stiff and uncertain, trying to decide what to do. My first instinct was to move, to shift him off me, but I couldn’t bring myself to.
Instead, I stayed still, letting the moment wash over me. His closeness, his warmth—it was all too much, yet somehow not enough. I felt the rise and fall of his chest against my side, the faint tickle of his hair against my cheek. It was intimate in a way that felt far too personal, yet I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.
I tilted my head slightly, just enough to glance down at him. He looked so peaceful, his features softened by sleep. The usual sharpness of his jawline, the intensity in his eyes—it was all replaced by something gentler, something... vulnerable.
And then it hit me: I wasn’t just nervous about him being close. I liked it. I liked the way he felt next to me, the way he seemed to fit there as if he belonged. And that scared me more than anything else.
Swallowing hard, I turned back to the movie, my heart racing. It was going to be a long night, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever was happening between us.
*****
The bright fluorescent lights of the doctor’s office buzzed faintly as I sat on the examination table, my heart pounding with anticipation. My mom sat in one of the chairs near the window, her hands clasped in her lap, a hopeful smile on her face. Jeremy leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes flicking toward me occasionally but mostly focused on his phone.
Dr. Calloway stepped in, her clipboard in hand, her smile reassuring. “Good news, Hannah. Your ankle has healed beautifully.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a wide grin breaking across my face. “So… I can dance again?”
Dr. Calloway nodded. “You’re cleared for light practices at first. Gradually build up intensity. But no reckless movements or overexertion—give your body time to adjust.”
My mom clapped her hands together, her relief palpable. “Oh, thank goodness. I know how much this means to her.”
Jeremy said nothing, but I caught his lips twitching into a faint smile as he pushed himself off the wall.
I practically bounced in place, ignoring the warning look from Dr. Calloway. “This is perfect timing! My role is in two months, and I’ve been worried about falling behind. But now—oh, this is amazing!”
Jeremy’s voice cut in, calm and steady. “You’re going to take it slow, though, right?”
I blinked at him, surprised by the question. “Of course. I mean, I have to. But I’ll be working with my choreographer and my dance partner soon. That’ll help me ease back into things.”
“Dance partner?” Jeremy’s tone was even, but there was something in his eyes—something I couldn’t quite place.
“Yes!” I nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a duet, so I’ll be practicing with him for most of the rehearsals. He’s incredibly talented, and I’m sure he’ll help me get back on track quickly.”
Jeremy’s jaw shifted slightly, but he didn’t comment further. My mom, however, leaned in, her curiosity piqued. “What’s his name?”
“Dylan,” I said with a grin. “He’s been with the company for years. His movements are flawless—it’s like watching poetry in motion.”
Jeremy’s brow arched as he finally spoke. “So... Dylan. Is he as good as you?”
I chuckled, not catching the slight edge in his voice. “He’s incredible. Better, probably. And he’s so patient—he’ll be great for helping me transition back.”
Jeremy hummed, his expression unreadable as he crossed his arms again. “Must be nice to have someone like that around.”
My mom gave him a curious glance but didn’t say anything, instead turning back to me. “I’m just so glad you’ll be dancing again. You’ve been so patient through all of this, sweetheart.”
I smiled at her, my excitement uncontainable. “I can’t wait to get back in the studio, feeling the music, moving again… It’s going to be amazing.”
Jeremy shifted his weight, glancing out the window, his jaw tight. “Just make sure you’re careful. Don’t want to end up back here.”
I gave him a reassuring grin, missing the tension in his tone entirely. “I’ll be fine. This is what I’ve worked for, Jeremy.”
“Right,” he murmured, his eyes darting back to me briefly before he fell silent again.
As we left the office, my mom and I chatted about my upcoming rehearsals, her excitement mirroring mine. Jeremy followed a step behind, quiet, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“Are you coming to my first rehearsal, Mom?” I asked, practically skipping in excitement.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replied with a smile.
I glanced back at Jeremy. “You should come, too. You’ve seen me practice enough at home—you might as well see it in a real studio.”
Jeremy’s lips quirked into a small smile. “We’ll see.”
I shrugged, already lost in thoughts of choreography and stage lights. If Jeremy had something on his mind, I didn’t notice. And if the mention of my dance partner had stirred something in him, I was completely oblivious. For now, all I could think about was dancing again, finally, and the thrill of being back in my element.
****