12

Blair

Age 16

To be honest, I’m surprised how long it took Mom to find out about me and Asher. The FBI has nothing on the snooping skills of my mother.

Usually, Mom’s an uptight hawk, always scoping out gossip to use as leverage against the other moms in the neighborhood. She has to be the best, the wealthiest, the most respectable—the most feared. Dad doesn’t mind what she does, as long as she keeps our reputation squeaky clean.

She’d know if I were dating a football player or hanging out with a band kid. But boys like Asher Stone aren’t even on her radar. Boys like Asher only exist in her nightmares.

They’re the kind of boys I’d think only existed in my dreams, if Asher weren’t real.

Which is why I’m not expecting it when I get home from school on a Wednesday, and she’s standing at the door, giving me a death glare. I grip the strap of my backpack, bracing for the oncoming storm.

“Who is Asher Stone?” she demands, her voice cutting.

My stomach drops.

“Hello to you too, Mom,” I mutter.

Her gaze sharpens. “Cut the attitude, Blair. Answer the question.”

I have no idea what she’s heard, but it can’t be good. There’s hardly a point in evading, but I try anyway.

Shrugging, I force a confused look. “Um… I don’t know. Is he like a famous actor or something? Or a kid from school?”

She laughs coldly. “Don’t lie to me, Blair. Sarah told me everything.”

My heart races. “Sarah… as in Mackenzie’s mom?”

“She says you didn’t stay over at Mackenzie’s on Friday night. Mackenzie had no idea where you were or why you’d lie about it. But then she remembered something.” Mom crosses her arms, her tone dripping with disgust. “She’s seen you hanging out with a boy. Not a boy from school, not even a boy from around here. A—a…”

I bite my lip. How could have Mackenzie done this to me? Isn’t she supposed to be my friend?

Something inside me snaps. “Say it, Mom. A poor boy. Someone who doesn’t come from a neighborhood like ours, who doesn’t go to private school. Like that makes him a bad person or something.”

Her expression turns steely. “So, you admit it. You know who I’m talking about.”

I shrug. “So what if I do? I’ve never had to get your approval for my friends before.”

Which is only because I’ve always chosen friends she approves of.

“Mackenzie says you two do all kinds of crazy things. Unseemly things. Jumping around on top of buildings…”

I laugh bitterly. “Gee, how scandalous. How will the family name ever recover?”

She lowers her voice to a hiss. “She says he deals drugs, Blair.”

That shuts me up. It’s something Asher and I don’t talk about. I’ve picked up on the clues—he sometimes deals weed and pills. We have an unspoken agreement: I don’t ask, and he doesn’t tell. I worry about him, but his grandma’s care costs more than he could make from any part-time job. And he’d never accept money from me.

“I don’t know anything about that, Mom.”

“A boy like that will get you pregnant and leave you in ruins.”

I roll my eyes. “I haven’t slept with him, so we can take teen pregnancy off the table. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“It is my business,” she snaps. “I am your mother, and you live under my roof. We have a reputation in this community, Blair, and you’re throwing it all away.”

“I don’t care about our reputation. I care about Asher. He cares about me, too.”

She shakes the blonde hair from her eyes. Her silver bracelets jangle as she points an accusing finger at me.

“If you keep hanging around with him, you can say goodbye to ballet school. I’m not paying for my daughter to get a silly little dance degree if she’s going to spend time with trash like him.”

A cold wave of anger hits me. I’m not used to feeling like this.

But she’s asking me to pick between the boy I love and my whole future. My dream.

“It’s your choice, Blair,” Mom says, smiling a cold, satisfied smile.

“Fine,” I mutter, pushing past her. I head upstairs and slam the door behind me.

***

First position. Plie. Pirouette. Jant.

I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, repeating the steps in my head, trying to keep calm. Downstairs, I hear Mom leaving for her book club where she’ll drink rosé and pretend to talk about novels. When the door finally shuts and the house goes quiet, the anger in me surges.

That’s the thing. I love Asher, like I’ve never loved anything except ballet. But she’d never understand that.

I grab my phone and text him.

Are u free? Can you pick me up at the usual spot in 10?

I know I just got my first and last warning. I know it’s stupid to sneak out again. But I can’t just go to bed and pretend nothing happened. I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t get out of here.

Asher picks me up a few blocks from my house, and the second I see him, my resolve breaks. He takes off his biker helmet, his green-flecked dark eyes flashing with protective rage in the glow of the streetlights. “Blair. What’s wrong?”

He pulls me into his arms, but I tell him just to drive.

At his place, I barely make it through the door before I sink down, the tears hot and uncontrollable.

He crouches beside me, his hands gentle. “What happened, Blair?”

“My mom,” I mutter. “She found out about us. She… she said if she catches me seeing you again, she won’t pay for ballet school, even if I do get in.”

“Jesus,” he whispers, exhaling sharply. “So, what now?”

“I’m not giving you up.” I sniff, wiping my eyes. “Anyway, my coach thinks I’m on track for a scholarship. That would cover a lot of the costs, even if my parents refuse to help.”

He smiles, but there’s worry in his eyes. “Blair, I can’t be the thing that holds you back. But I don’t want to lose you. Not fucking ever.”

“We’ll make it work,” I insist. “I’ll just have to be careful.”

He shakes his head, his gaze troubled. “Your mom will be watching your every move. Are you willing to take that risk?”

The silence between us is thick, heavy with all the things we’re not saying. I don’t want to choose between my dreams and the boy who makes me feel alive.

A reckless, defiant urge burns through me. “Let’s go do something. I need a distraction before I go back home.”

Asher raises an eyebrow, but he nods. “Sure. Maybe a movie? Or pizza?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I need… something stronger.”

He understands. He knows I’m not looking for a quiet distraction—I want our shared drug of choice: adrenaline .

“You’re sure?” he asks, reading my face carefully.

I nod. “This will make me feel better.”

“Alright,” he says slowly. “How about the bike? We could go to the ramps, try some of the tricks I’ve been working on.”

I shake my head. “No. I want to be in control. I want to feel it.” I pause, wiping my cheeks. “What about…the Meridian?”

Asher’s jaw tightens. “I don’t know, Blair.”

We’ve talked about the Meridian before—a crumbling, abandoned old theater building just waiting to collapse.

But for all Asher’s edge, he has a hard time saying “no” to me.

That’s how we end up there, standing beneath its decaying wooden beams.

“Let’s go up there,” I say, pointing to a large window on the north wall. “There’ll be a good view.”

It’s reachable if we climb the beams and leap across to a platform. I hear the wildness in my own voice, but I can’t hold back. My heart aches, and I want a thrill that will eviscerate this feeling of dread inside me until everything’s okay again.

Asher studies me, hesitant. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

“This is my choice, Asher,” I say, my voice frantic. “I need this.”

We climb the beams, carefully finding footholds in the rough wood as we make our way up. Dust stirs with each movement, and the air feels dense and still, like the building is holding its breath. My heart races, a blend of fear and excitement, and I tighten my grip, keeping my eyes on Asher just ahead.

Then it’s time for the jump. Asher goes first, vaulting smoothly over to the next beam. I pause, staring at the narrow plank beside him, gathering my nerve.

He reaches out his hand. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

I leap. For a moment, fear grabs hold, but then my feet hit the beam. Relief floods me. I am a ballerina, after all.

But then—

I feel it—the wood splintering beneath my weight. My heart lurches as the beam cracks, and I jump forward, reaching for Asher’s outstretched hand. His fingers graze mine, but I slip, catching hold for a split second before I fall.

“Blair!”

I hear the fear in his voice, and that’s when I realize it’s bad.

You’d think a fall like this would happen in slow motion—the terror, the impact. But it’s all so fast.

I hear the snap before I feel the pain.