Just Playin'_Romantic Sports Comedy by Shandi Boyes
Author:Shandi Boyes [Boyes, Shandi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-29T18:00:00+00:00
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Willow
âA re you sure you donât want to stay another night? I can drop you at school before your first class tomorrow. Iâll even set two alarms to make sure I donât sleep in.â
I giggle, loving the cheek in Elvisâs voice. If I could explain this weekend in only one word it would be outrageously-fucking-fantastic.
What? When itâs hyphenated, itâs only one word. I found that out the hard way when I submitted my English essay earlier this month. It had to be three thousand words. I delivered an amazing piece of literature that was exactly three thousand words. Supposedly I lost a few points because I didnât reach the minimum required word count. Itâs a crock of shit excuse as far as Iâm concerned, but my B+ averaged out my score to a A-, so I pulled up my big girl panties and copped Professor Smithâs disdain on my chin like a nearly graduated student.
Iâll be honest, after our outrageously-fucking-fantastic (still one word) fuck on Elvisâs now buckled dining table, I thought things were going to get awkward very quickly. I cried. Iâm not talking a few little tears I could blame on a lash in my eye. Iâm talking cry me a river, I just watched My Girl for the hundredth time cry. It wasnât pretty. Not in the slightest. But do you know what? Elvis handled it like a pro. He just held me, then when I stopped slobbering over him like a kid eyeing the latest electronic game, he wiped away my tears and proceeded to cook us dinner.
No, Iâm not joking.
He knew I didnât want to break down in front of him just as much as I believed my dad was coming back the night he perished. It took a crumbled house, seven firefighters, and a social worker ripping a pair of ballet shoes I had grabbed in haste out of my hands before I realized what was happening all those years ago. If it werenât for the social worker trying to remove the last piece of my parents I had, I would have never left the footpath.
I havenât been back to Melbourne since that night. I was shipped to Bundaberg, Queensland to live with my Aunt, grew an unhealthy obsession with dance, then the instant I was old enough, I moved to another country to pursue my dreams.
I didnât realize how far I had strayed from my dreams until last night. It wasnât the smiles on my studentsâ faces when they performed at the recital causing my turmoil. It was Elvisâs face when I danced for him. Last night was the first time Iâve danced for pleasure in a very long time. The moves came from inside of me, from a place I didnât think Iâd ever have relit again. I was dancing purely because I loved it, and not for what it could give me.
Thatâs why as much as Elvisâs invitation is tempting, I canât accept it. With me finally gaining a work
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