His Dancer by Darcy Rose
Cara
The days pass slowly, agonizingly so. Even when I try my best to get back into things—to forget the past few days, to forget him—I can’t seem to get it right. I get the results from one of the tests I took the other day, and as it turns out, I failed. Things get worse from there when I end up running into another girl outside the dorm, causing the coffee in my hands to spill over the rim of the cup and down the front of my white button-up shirt, drenching me.
I hiss as the heat cuts through the thin fabric quickly, and it starts to stick to my skin. “Fuck!” Jerking around, I stumble over my feet as I turn in a circle seeking some napkins or something to mop up the mess I’ve now made. I groan when I see that the container that would hold said napkins is empty, but when I turn back to ask for some, another person has moved up and is chatting up the oblivious barista. It’s useless.
I toss the now empty cup of coffee in the trash and head for the door, pushing out onto the campus sidewalk. Covering my chest with crossed arms, I take off at a run across the street, cutting down a path that leads to my dorm.
Thankfully, just as I’m running up, another girl is leaving, and she holds the door open for me. I call back my appreciation as I hurry through the building until I reach my door. My keys jingle in my pocket, and I adjust swiftly, reaching down and sliding them out as I quickly unlock my door and burst inside, ripping my soaked shirt off as I go.
With a grimace, I toss the now ruined shirt into the laundry hamper and then grab a towel to wipe myself off before hunting for a new outfit.
My frustration mounts when I can’t find the T-shirt I’m looking for. I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to take a few calming breaths. Ever since I ran from Ace, it seems everything is falling apart.
Worse than that, I miss him. I miss him more than I thought I would and definitely more than I know I should. Ace isn’t the type of man who loves. He’s the type of man who takes and uses. My hand lands on a soft, cotton shirt, my fingers sinking into the fabric. I don’t pull it off the hanger yet, not while my mind is rioting with thoughts and emotions.
Why do I miss him?It’s stupid. He doesn’t care about me. If he did, he wouldn’t have let me run. I’m not dumb enough to be that clueless. If Ace wanted me there, then I would’ve had no escape. I would’ve been his captive. Right now, I wish he’d chosen that path. Then I wouldn’t be standing here, alone, thinking about him. Remembering the time I spent with him.
Ace is a man who gets what he wants, and even if he hasn’t said it, his absence tells me that what he wanted … wasn’t me. Tears well in my eyes, and I blink them away, gripping the shirt in my hand tighter as I yank it from its hanger and pull it on over my head.
You’re stupid, Cara, to want a man like him. Yet even though I know the type of man he is, the thought of him still makes my chest ache.
Inhaling sharply, I push the thoughts of Ace and that night three days ago away and slam my closet door shut. What we shared was amazing, but it will never happen again. The vibration of my phone in my pocket drags me back to the present, and I pull the device out. As soon as I see the time, I don’t bother to check the message and shove it back into my pocket in a frenzy.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I dash across the room, grabbing up the bag I’d dropped by the door as well as my keys. I’m going to be fucking late to work.
I race out of the dorm, passing through the doors in a hurry and nearly slamming into another student coming in.
“Sorry!” I call over my shoulder, but I don’t slow my speed as I sprint down the sidewalk.
It’s only a few blocks, but each second that passes makes me sweat harder. My legs pump behind me, and my heart hammers in my chest as I push myself to go faster. I must’ve stood in my dorm thinking about Ace longer than I thought. I swore I had another thirty minutes before I had to be at work.
By the time I reach the diner, I’m a trembling, sweaty mess. I slow my step to a light jog when the sign comes into view, and I cut through the parking lot, stopping only once I’ve reached the front door. I pull it open and walk inside, finding Mark—my boss—standing behind the counter. I freeze. Not only am I late but I’m late on the day the boss is here.
Good job, Cara!
I suck in a breath and start on my apology. “I’m so sorry that I’m late...” I blurt, quickly walking toward him, but all he does is shake his head. He’s older, about sixty with salt-and-pepper-colored hair and stern features. Being punctual is his biggest pet peeve, and I’ve basically put an X on my back by being late.
“Come back to my office, and we can discuss this,” Mark says firmly, turning and striding back down the side hallway that leads to the dingy storage closet that houses dry inventory as well as his office—which is nearly the same size as the closet. I blow out a breath and feel my shoulders sink as I pass by a few coworkers and follow him in the same direction.
I swallow down my frustration and turn my eyes to the floor. We’ve barely stepped foot inside his office when my heart sinks into my stomach. The way he’s looking at me tells me he’s about to turn my world upside down, and the tinge of guilt in his eyes confirms what I already know.
“I’m sorry, Cara, but we have to let you go.”
The panic inside me refuses to stay in place. “Let me go? I’m…” I don’t know what I can say or do to make this better. “Over being late? I’m never late—not usually, not until today,” I insist. “Please, I promise I’ll be more aware in the future. I’ll stay late if you need me to. I’ll do the other girls’ side work. I’ll pick up extra hours or do doubles if you—”
“It’s not just you being late today,” he cuts me off. “And it’s not just you.” Mark looks away. “We have to let a few others go as well. There’ve been some … cutbacks.”
Cutbacks?At a diner? Geez. The economy isn’t that bad. Mark frowns, the lines in his forehead deepening. I blow out a breath. At least he’s not being smug about this or cruel. No, I can tell he doesn’t really want to let me go, though it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m now jobless.
I sigh and reach up to scrub a hand down my face. My eyes burn with unshed tears, tears of frustration. “Okay,” I say. What else can I say?
“I’m sorry, Cara,” Mark apologizes.
Yeah, me too. Instead of voicing that, however, I just shake my head and turn for the door. I’ll need to find another job, find another way to make ends meet. Book payments are due soon, and tuition as well. “Guess I’ll see you later, Mark,” I call back. Maybe. I don’t even care that my voice is less than respectful. Yeah, it’s not his fault, but I just ran all the way here to get fired, and my irritation is through the roof. I could scream.
I head back toward the front of the building, and as I pass the counter and head for the front double doors, I run headfirst into another person. Preparing to apologize, I lift my gaze from the floor and find Leanna standing there. I blink in surprise.
She gives me a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. An awkward air surrounds us, and I’m half tempted to run out of the diner and back to my dorm room. Today is complete shit, and now I’m faced with a reminder of the man I ran from three nights ago.
She shuffles on her feet but doesn’t move to allow me through. I wait, expectantly.
“My brother’s in the hospital,” she tells me. I frown. “He’ll live, thankfully, but it’s going to be a while before he gets released. The doctors said he’s lucky to be alive.”
I wait a moment and then nod with a stilted movement. “Good, I’m glad.” The words leave my lips, but I don’t really feel them. Am I glad that he’s alive? No? Yes? I don’t know if I care anymore. Leanna was the one I was worried about, and I guess, when it comes down to it, I’m happy she’s not going to lose someone she obviously cares about even if maybe he’s not a good person. After all, he did sell her to get rid of his debt.
She shrugs. “It’s okay. I’m just glad he’s not dead. I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost him.” Her response is more proof as to why I shouldn’t be missing Ace. He’s the reason someone is in the hospital, and I have no more illusions about him. Had he truly wanted, Leanna’s brother wouldn’t be in the hospital—he’d be dead.
I shake my head against the unwanted Ace thoughts. He doesn’t deserve a spot in my mind or heart, but I can’t help myself, which makes me feel ten times worse.
“Well, I’m glad he’s okay… I’ll see you around.” I inch toward the door.
“It was nice seeing you again, Cara.” She smiles and continues her walk inside. At least she still has a job, unlike me. Worry festers in my gut. Without a job, I’ll have to figure out how I will pay for books and tuition for the next semester.
For the entire walk back to campus, I’m riddled with worry. The thought of dropping out makes me sick, but if I can’t pay to go to school, then I don’t have any other option. It’s not like they’ll let me stay here. I kick at the pavement and nearly trip over my feet.
It doesn’t hit me until I’ve reached the dorm and I’m crawling back under the bedsheets to cry myself to sleep that I remember I put some money into a savings account a while ago.
I toss my covers back and grab my phone off the nightstand. It takes forever for the screen to load as I log into my bank account. My heart does a little somersault when I see the balance. Relief floods me. It’s enough to cover the expense of my books, but if I spend it, I won’t be eating for … who knows how long. Until I get another job maybe?
The relief curbs and disperses. Instead, the fear and anxiety of the day presses down on me, and I toss my phone back onto the nightstand and fall back onto the bed.
I can’t do this tonight. Can’t choose between food and school. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day, or maybe it won’t. I close my eyes and pretend my life is normal, like I have no worries at all, and eventually, either from pure exhaustion or just sadness, I fall asleep.
* * *
When I wakeup the next morning, there's a moment of panic that I'm late for my job until I remember … I don't have one anymore. With a groan, I slap my phone back down on my nightstand and roll over, reaching down and tugging up the covers over my head.
No job equals no money. I have no time to be thinking about Ace or the recent events that have happened to me. I contemplate my next move all morning. I browse the local listings from my cell and even save a few nearby jobs I hope to contact. Why do employers never want to list the actual wages?
Finally, the sun rises into the sky, and the clock ticks past noon. It's time to stop fucking around. I sit up and clamber out of bed, moving across the room as I shed my pajamas. I quickly grab what I need for a shower and head out into the hall. When I return, I drop the caddy down to the bottom of my closet and get dressed for the day.
The first thing I need to do is see how bad the damage is. I stand in my dorm room, facing the window with my phone clutched in my hands. To do that, I need to call the bookstore. If worst comes to worst...maybe I can get used books? A payment plan? I wonder if they do those. I resolve to ask as I type in the number and put the cell to my ear.
The phone rings three times, and my grip on it tightens while I wait.
“Hello, North Woods University bookstore.”
“H-Hi," I stutter out. "Um, can you please tell me the total charge for my books for next semester?”
“Sure. I’ll just need your full name and student ID number.”
I rattle off my information to the man on the phone and wait with bated breath. A few seconds later, he says, “It looks like your book expenses were paid in full for the next two semesters.”
A record scratches in my head. "I'm sorry...what?"
"Your book expenses have been covered for the next year," he says, rephrasing the words as if he's sure I couldn't understand it the way he said it the first time. It's not that I couldn't understand, it's that … I don't … it's just … how?
My lips part, and I try to think of what to say, but all I can say is, "Paid? In full?” I try not to sound as shocked as I feel. "Are you sure?" Maybe he typed in the student ID number wrong, so I rattle it off again. “That’s my student number. Are you sure that’s the one you’re seeing on your screen? The one with the”—dare I say it—"paid expenses?”
He chuckles. “Yes, that is the correct number,” he answers. “Is there anything else you wanted, ma'am?” I shake my head, only to realize he can’t see me.
“Uh, no, no, thank you.” I hang up the phone. The worry that I'd been feeling earlier is now a distant memory. Instead, it's edging away in the light of new emotions. There's really only one explanation.
Ace.It has to have been him.
My eyes jump across the room to my computer. I have to find out if he's done anything else. I practically leap across the space to where my laptop sits at the end of my twin-sized mattress. I quickly log in to my tuition account to check the monthly statement, tapping my fingers against the side of the computer as it takes several minutes to load. Stupid cheap Wi-Fi.
Once the screen fully loads, my eyes bulge and my mouth drops open once more. It's paid. All of it, the entire year. All those zeroes I'd been worried about before have narrowed to one. One single zero—as in, there's nothing left of this semester or next to pay for.
I don't have to pay for books or tuition for a whole twelve months. The money in my savings account can stay where it is, and I don’t have to find another place to go. Hell, I can even take my time looking for a new job.
The heavy weight that I didn't realize had been sitting on my chest disappears completely, and for the first time in a long while, I feel like I can breathe again. Tears spill from my eyes and trail down the apples of my cheeks. I’ve never felt two conflicting emotions so badly before. Damn him, I think. And also...fucking bless him.
Why would he do this when he let me go?I ask myself. What is he trying to do? What is he saying? Is he...did he want to make sure I was taken care of even if I left? Why would he do that?
The answer is there. I know it is.
I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand and shove off the bed. I know what I have to do, even if I don’t want to.
I’m going to confront him and ask him why he did it. Ask him why he even cares when he told me to run? To leave? It takes all of five seconds to order an Uber, and by the time I get downstairs, the driver is waiting for me.
It’s only a short drive to the industrial park. Ace’s office is located in a seedy-looking building just past the railroad tracks. The car rolls to a stop in front of it. The lady driving the car turns around and gives me a concerned look.
“Are you sure you want me to drop you off here?”
I stare up at the building. "Yes, I’m sure. Thanks for the ride,” I toss over my shoulder as I climb out of the car.
If Ace thought he could tell me to run, and then still be a part of my life and pay for things he had no business paying for, he had another thing coming.
