chapter forty-four

1.2K 51 12
                                    

WILLOW

Having a girlfriend was not on my bingo card this... lifetime. Even less having a famous girlfriend. Even so much less having a girlfriend emphasis in girl. But I am not complaining. My life with Summer in it feels so much brighter and peaceful, I do know I still have a lot of issues to resolve but having her makes everything so much easier. I went back to class just after we skipped school to go hang out at her beach house, I went back to the diner too and let me tell you, Sam is not forgiving me for those five days I called in sick, so now I'm working without a break to regain the money I've lost thanks to my mother. I'm passing my exams and essays like a pro, I also showed Professor Queens my new song and she loved it even more than the last one.

Two weeks have passed since I've been officially dating my girl. And it's also been–almost– two weeks since Theo West sent out the restraining order to Delilah, I haven't heard from her yet and even though I should feel okay, it makes me nervous. She's never this quiet, and it's weird, so now I'm just preparing myself for her to attack. Theo made me sign a lot of paperwork and legal items declaring everything I said was not a lie, along with the small proof I have, everything went okay. My mom's been threatened with court if she contacts me again, and Theo made me promise him I'll tell him if it happens. I know my Mom can't afford an attorney, and she's way too scared to go to court with me— she knows with whom she's dealing with here, and she will lose.
I asked Theo what was next and he only said 'Now we wait and hope she doesn't show up again, if she does, we attack.' I cried on Summer's arms that day because I couldn't believe I'm doing this to my mother, the person I'm supposed to love but I was her child, her only daughter and she never loved me. She ruined me, and even if it hurts, I know I'm doing the right thing.

"Are you okay?" I ask the girl next to me when I notice her hands shaking slightly. "We don't have to do this if you don't feel ready."

She readjusts her slick bun in her head, and tilts her head to the side making a crack sound, she blows out a big breath and nods at me. "I am ready, I feel ready. I just... It's been too long."

We are just two weeks away from the winter showcase, Summer's injury is almost full recovered and her physical therapist gave her the okay to go through a three minute dance again, always being careful and taking it easy; but today we are going to practice my song and her dance again— just like the day she broke her leg. I understand she's nervous, and I am even more anxious for her. What if she falls again? What if she gets hurt again? What if it all ends today?
She promised me she was ready and nothing hurt, but I'm still scared and if I'm scared, I can only imagine how she must feel right now.
It's been months since she's been on a stage. Luna rented a whole theater for us–yes, a whole theater– because she wanted Summer to fall in love with ballet again, and it was best if she did it here. The place is beautiful, big and all the seats are empty. It's just me and her in a fucking theater. My blood runs cold at the thought that maybe, someday, I will be singing in front of all these seats filled with people. Maybe one of them will be Summer.

"Sums, are you sure?" I ask for the millionth time.
She's been improvising moves to my new song for days now, creating some sort of choreography. I told her a million times to stop overworking herself, but she says she's fine.

Summer walks to me in quiet feet, her ballet shoes barely making noise against the hardwood floor. She stands in front of me and takes my face with her hands, locking her eyes on me. "Love, I'm fine. I promise. I'm ready." she finishes with a kiss on my lips that makes my heart flutter. I will never get tired of that feeling.

I'm feeling more relaxed after she kisses me, she steps back and I stare at her in awe. She's so not of this world. She's wearing a new black leotard and pink thighs, her skirt looks so soft that I fight the urge to run my fingers over it. She's perfect, she really is. She looks like a professional dancer, even though we're only practicing.

dancing in the stars (ballerina x singer wlw romance) Where stories live. Discover now