Dance: The Collected Series Page 18

  Just then, my search is interrupted by another text message:

  I need to speak to you. I’m sorry Julia. And believe me, I’m not going to give up on you. Not until you’ve heard what I have to say.

  I want to scream. I want to text him back to leave me alone. But instead I just delete the text conversation – so that I won’t have any way to reply to him.

  I return to apartment hunting, and the rental gods must have rewarded me for ignoring Dylan, because I see a brand new listing:

  Urgent. Affordable apartment in Bushwick, to let IMMEDIATELY.

  A phone call later, and I’m on my way to Bushwick to check it out. I’m feeling really positive about all the changes I’m making in my life, all the steps forward.

  But even so, I have a feeling that this isn’t the last time I’ll hear from Dylan Campbell ...

  CHAPTER twenty-SIX

  I was right. It wasn’t the last time I heard from him. In fact, he became a constant presence in my life. I knew that he couldn’t stand losing, and he was trying everything in his power to get me back. After the incident with the flowers, I really did expect him to show up at the school again. I was prepared for that. I was even prepared for yet more flowers and gifts, and sure enough three dozen red roses were delivered to my apartment (although it did make me wonder how he’d even found my new address), along with a note that read:

  Julia,

  I’m so sorry. You don’t know how much you mean to me. I need you in my life. It’s killing me knowing that I hurt you. I have to see you again. Please forgive me.

  Dylan

  But what I wasn’t prepared for was checking my bank balance online the next morning to find I was in credit, to the tune of $500,000.

  At first I assumed it must be some kind of mistake. I’d heard of things like that happening before – banks crediting the wrong account, that sort of thing. But of course, this was no mistake.

  I scanned the screen and sure enough, the payment was from one Dylan Campbell.

  I felt my blood boil. How dare he. I told him he couldn’t buy me. That I wasn’t for sale.

  But he wasn’t listening. Maybe that’s how you do it in his world; you throw money around until you get what you want. But not in mine. This is not how people do things. This is not how normal people behave.

  I was about to call my bank and get them to transfer the money back to Dylan, when I hit on a better idea ...

  And when I got to school a little later that day, there he was, waiting for me on the steps with another huge bunch of flowers.

  If he thinks I’m going to come running up to him and thank him for his generous gift this morning, he’d better think again.

  Instead, I just marched straight past him.

  He didn’t try to bar my way. He just said, “Good morning, Julia,” and let me pass.

  When I got home that afternoon, I threw myself down on the bed of my tiny new apartment in Bushwick, exhausted by a day of working out, dancing and stretching, and started looking through the day’s mail.

  In amongst all the usual takeout flyers and other junk mail for previous tenants, there was a heavy, thick, cream-colored envelope. I had no idea what was inside, but it was addressed to me and I was curious, so I tore it open.

  Dear Miss Tate, the letter inside read, thank you for becoming a patron of the New York Ballet. Your kind support will help us to keep up our world-class standards. We are delighted to offer you two free tickets to the opening night of all our productions, including an invitation to our champagne reception and a chance to meet the company.

  I certainly didn’t apply to become a patron of the New York Ballet. But I knew exactly who’d put my name down.

  Well done, Dylan Campbell, I thought, for the latest smooth move in your playbook. This is without a doubt the most amazing gift I have ever received. It’s completely incredible; the kind of thing a girl like me can only dream about.

  And of course Dylan knew that, didn’t he? This gift was so thoughtful, so perfect for me, that he obviously knew how hard it was gonna be for me to turn it down.

  The next morning, he was back in his now regular spot, waiting by the fountain with another outlandishly enormous bunch of flowers.

  The other students had started to notice him by now, too. They were giggling and pointing at him. He looked so out of place. And I sailed right past him.

  “Good morning, Dylan,” I said, not even looking him in the eye, as I hurried past, studiously avoiding his gaze, holding my head high, my arms crossed protectively over my chest.

  When I got to class, as we were warming up, I overheard a conversation between two girls as they stretched.

  “What’s the deal with that guy?” one of them asked.

  “What guy?” her friend replied.

  “You know,” the first girl continued, “the suit by the fountain with the massive bunch of flowers? He’s been there for the past three days, just waiting.”

  “Oh my God! That guy! Who’s he waiting for? He just stands there. I wish it was for me. He’s seriously gorgeous. You can just tell he’s built under that suit. And those flowers don’t look cheap, either ... Whoever he is waiting for is one lucky girl.”

  You have no idea, I thought, smiling privately to myself.

  §

  Natalia: I’m so sorry we’ve been fighting.

  Julia: Me too. How are you?

  Natalia: Let’s meet up and talk about it. Please?

  Julia: OMG. I’m so glad you said that! I was about to text you the exact same thing. Where do you want to meet? x

  Natalia: Mike’s bar at 7. See you soon xx

  CHAPTER twenty-sEVEN

  I arrive at Mike’s, the scruffy dive bar Nat and I often hang out at, and I’m determined to be on time to meet her this evening. But the moment I step through the door, I see someone else sitting in the corner booth that Nat and I usually share. Dylan. I freeze in my tracks, looking back towards the exit. I take another glance and he’s lifting himself out of his seat, palms up, urging me to wait.

  I sigh, shake my head, then strut over to the table, confronting him, hands on hips.

  “At least let me explain, Julia,” he says. “Don’t I deserve that at least?”

  “You don’t deserve anything,” I snap back, the words visibly wounding him. “Especially since you now appear to be actively stalking me. But okay,” I add with a sigh, dropping frustratedly into the seat across the table from his. “You’ve got five minutes before Nat turns up here and kicks your ass.”

  A white lie. He still thinks Nat’s my best friend. He doesn’t need to know we’ve not been talking. And if she knew how he’d been behaving, then trust me, she would kick his ass.

  “I’m sorry,” he begins, leaning in towards me across the table, his big dark eyes so pleading I almost believe him. “I panicked. I heard the word ‘boyfriend’ and I freaked out.”

  I wince when I hear him say it again, but I remain silent, curious to hear what else he has to say.

  “But afterwards,” he continues, “when I’d had time to think about it, I knew that you were right. Boyfriend and girlfriend – that was the way our relationship was going. You see, I wasn’t lying when I said that there had been other girls. But I need you to know that there was nobody else while I was with you, Julia. Do you understand?”

  I nod. Of course. He wouldn’t have had the time anyway, would he? He works so hard and I saw him so much ...

  “But it was different with the others, too,” he continues. “It wasn’t like this. I didn’t do things for them, like meet their friends or take them to the ballet. And didn’t want to do things for them, just to see them smile. But that’s what I was doing for you, Julia. I guess until now, I’ve always kept my relationships in a small box, do you understand?”

  More than you could ever know, Dylan ...

  “But I don’t want to do that anymore,” he continues. “I’ve never really allowed anyone fully into my life before. I’ve been so focus
ed on my work, my business. I’m the eldest son and the family business goes back generations. I’ve had to work so fucking hard to prove myself. But it’s about more than that. I have other responsibilities now, too. To ... well, to carry on the family name, for example.”

  “That’s hardly the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” I say with a dismissive shrug.

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” he persists, leaning even closer towards me across the table, like he wants to try and take my hands in his; but I pull my fingers safely out of reach.

  “Listen,” he says, his voice lowering. “I’ve been going so fucking crazy these past few weeks without you. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you, to let you go, before realizing just how much you mean to me ... Please. Let me date you. No money this time. No arrangement. Let’s just start again from scratch. From right this second. Because I’m falling for you, Julia. I’m falling for you hard. And I’ll never forgive myself if we don’t at least try to make a real go of this.”

  Do I believe him? I don’t know. But I just can’t get hurt like that again ...

  “I’ll think about it,” I say.

  “Good,” he replies. “Because I’m serious about this. And I want you to take this seriously as well. By the way, the fellowship? Nice touch.”

  “What are you talking about?” I say, mock innocently.

  “The Dylan Campbell Fellowship for the Arts? A grant set up in my name to fund a disadvantaged student through college?”

  I smirk. I was never gonna outright tell him about what I did with the five hundred thousand dollars he transferred to me. But I was hoping he would find out about it soon enough.

  “Oh, you heard about that, did you?” I say, still wearing my sweetest butter-wouldn’t-melt expression.

  “I sure did,” he says. “My mother rang me up to congratulate me. Her and all her philanthropist friends are over the moon about it.”

  “Well, I’m glad someone’s happy,” I shoot back.

  “I’m happy,” he says. “I’m happy you’re actually here, talking to me. Come on, let me buy you a drink.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say. “I meant it. You should get out of here. Nat’s gonna be here any minute.”

  “I don’t think she is,” he says with a sheepish grin.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, confused.

  “I had to make you sit down and listen to me somehow, so I asked her for help.”

  “And she agreed?!” I say, incredulously.

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

  “I think I will. In fact, I’m gonna do that right now.”

  And before he can utter another word, I get up and leave.

  §

  “You scheming, interfering bitch!” I laugh when I finally meet up with Nat at Home Slice, thirty minutes later. “I’ve missed you so much. Now come here and give me one of those famous hugs I’ve been missing out on these past few weeks!”

  “I’ve missed you too,” she says, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing the life out of me. “Mostly? I’ve missed having someone to share the house special with.”

  We order the hugest pizza – a whole massive pie just for the two of us, smothered with peperoni, spinach and anchovies. And two coke floats. It’s just like old times; I can’t keep the grin off my face.

  We don’t even really need to make up. We just fall back into our old, easy conversation.

  “There is one thing I don’t understand,” I say. “I thought you hated Dylan.”

  “Oh, believe me, I did,” she grins. “I thought he was an entitled asshole. But then? Well, he kinda donated a lot of money to the studio.”

  “What?” I say confused, halfway through a sip of coke, almost spraying it onto Nat in the process.

  “Yeah,” she says, shrugging. “You know he donated two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to the studio? Julia, that’s enough to get the roof repaired and keep the under-fives classes funded for the next few years. At least. To be honest, even then, I still thought he was an entitled asshole, just flashing his cash around ... But then, he actually came down to the studio one evening, too. He took time out of his busy schedule to visit us, see what we were about. So we got talking. And you know what? He’s not so bad. Really he isn’t. He’s a nice guy, Julia. And it’s obvious that he’s crazy about you. He asked me for help and who was I to turn him down after all he’d done? So, you’re gonna give him another chance, right?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, genuinely confused. “We’re just so ... different. And when it ended, he was so fucking cruel. I’m scared of that side of him, Nat. I can’t believe that he’s really changed. He’s a total commitment-phobe. He’s got everything he needs in the world, so he doesn’t need people.”

  “That’s not true,” says Nat, putting her hand gently over mine. “Everyone needs people. It doesn’t matter how rich they are. And you know what? If anything, maybe being that insanely rich makes you even more lonely. And isn’t that something you know all about?”

  I look at her, confused. “What do you mean?” I say.

  “Come on,” she replies, with a you can’t fool me expression.

  “No, really. What?” I say.

  “Okay,” she says seriously, “if there’s a cute guy at the club, you might give him a kiss at the end of the night. But you never take him home. And we always laugh about the hilarious things that guys say and do when they wanna get with us. But you’ve never talked about any guys you’ve been with. You know, like actual boyfriends? And ever since Dylan got in touch with me and we really talked, I’ve been thinking about him. But most of all, about you ... And I think I know what it is you’re scared of. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  I look up at her. It’s something I’ve been holding onto for so long. I can’t believe that I’m finally letting it go. I should never have underestimated Nat. She was always gonna call me out on this in the end.

  “You are so right,” I say with an embarrassed grin. “It’s because I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve wanted to, sure. But I was just so scared of letting anyone get close to me. Of what might happen if I gave them, you know ... everything. So I held onto my virginity for twenty-one years. Are you sure you still wanna be friends with such a prude?”

  “Of course I do!” Nat laughs. “I mean, I’ve gotta salute your determination to keep yourself pure ...”

  And she says ‘pure’ like it’s a good thing, not something to be ashamed of.

  “I was thirteen years old,” she continues. “I don’t think I even knew what I was doing. I was too young. Then when I was fifteen, I got left with a nasty little itch down there. That was not fun. So I’ve been careful ever since. I mean, with protection. But I know a lotta girls who haven’t. And they got caught out. Chasing deadbeat dads for child support, or getting a cab alone to the abortion clinic, too ashamed to tell anyone what they were going through. So I do understand why you stayed careful for so long. But honestly, Julia? I’ve also had a lot of fun too! And I wouldn’t want you to miss out on that, not for the world. And your Dylan is gorgeous. I think you made the right decision when you chose it to be with him.”

  “Thank you, Nat,” I say.

  She’s right. And I can’t describe just what a huge weight off my shoulders it is to finally tell someone the truth about me.

  I always thought it was something to be ashamed of. I thought Nat wouldn’t want to be friends with a virgin. But of course, I was wrong.

  It’s looking like I’ve been wrong about so many things recently. And the funny thing is, I’m grateful to find that out. I thought I had the world so figured out already, but it turns out I’ve still got so much left to learn.

  CHAPTER twenty-EIGHT

  One evening a courier arrives, asking me to sign for yet another crazy enormous bunch of flowers. And just a few hours later, another courier arrives, this time asking me to sign for a mystery package – what looks like a dress box.

  I thank him, th
en take the package back up the flight of stairs to my apartment.

  And as I set the dress box down on the bed, preparing to open it, I think the same thing I’ve been thinking constantly this past week or so:

  Have I made the right decision by giving Dylan Campbell a second chance?

  When I finally agreed to go out on a ‘date’ with him – a real, honest-to-God date, with no kind of contract or agreement – he’d sounded so excited, I just knew I’d have to go through with it.

  And now here I am, working myself up to open this box.

  I take a final deep breath, then gingerly pull it open to reveal ...

  Okay, wow.

  It’s the most beautiful strappy gold sparkling dress, short to show off my legs, and slashed at the neck, cut in a daring V. And I know I shouldn’t be excited about something like this – I mean, after all, he just bought it, right? – but even so, I know that he chose it too, chose it because he knew how good it would look on me.

  And when I try it on, I have to agree that he was right.

  It really suits my dancer’s figure. I don’t have too much cleavage so the low neck doesn’t look too slutty, and as I bend to check out my ass in the mirror, I have to admit that that looks pretty good too.

  There might not be much room to dance in this apartment, but even so, I put on some Beyoncé and shimmy around the room in excitement.

  About an hour later a car arrives, and when the driver steps out to open the back door for me, I’m half expecting to see Dylan lounging there on the backseat. But instead, it’s empty. I climb inside, the driver slams the door closed, then gets back behind the wheel and starts the engine. I lean forward and tap on the dark glass that separates him from the back part of the limo, wanting to ask him where exactly we’re headed. But if he hears me, he ignores me.