Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

May 2013

“Okay, so walk me through the timing of Friday again?” inquired Roman as he switched on the faucet and reached for a sponge, prompting Sasha to roll her eyes in bemused disbelief.

“What is this, the third or fourth time you’ve asked me?” she replied, setting the first of the dishes by the sink and returning to the table for the rest. “Had I known you’d be this forgetful I would have sent you a formal calendar invite!”

“You call it forgetful,” countered Roman with a smirk as he took the first plate and rinsed off the remains of the chicken cutlets Sasha had prepared for dinner. “I call it making sure I’ve got the details down pat so my girlfriend has the prom experience she deserves.”

“Ooh, smooth save,” teased Sasha, placing the rest of the dishes under the running water and hoisting herself up on the counter. “If the Kings need a backup goalie for the playoffs they’ve got their man.”

“You’ve seen me on ice, we both know that’s a bad idea.”

Sasha giggled and pulled her boyfriend in for a kiss before deciding to let him off the hook.

“The plan is as follows,” began Sasha playfully, taking the clean dishes from Roman and setting them in the drying rack on the counter next to her. “You and the other boys will be at Boo’s house by 4:00. Boo, Ginny, and I will finish getting ready by 4:15. The limo arrives at 4:45, dinner reservation is 5:30, and then it’s a night of splendor and revelry at the fabulous Ojai Valley Inn.”

“You make it sound like a Price is Right showcase.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Mr. Barker. The ballroom cost so much they couldn’t afford a Plinko board.”

“I was always more into ‘Cliffhangers’ anyway,” shrugged Roman, flicking the last clean fork into the rack like a dart and moseying toward the living room.

“Just as long as you remember the lovely parting gifts,” crooned Sasha with a sensual lilt, smoothing out the front of her apron and the back of her skirt as she slid off the counter.

“How could I forget?” chuckled Roman half-sarcastically, as if Sasha hadn’t been leaning on him for weeks to remember to bring the “stuff” for their hotel room later that night. Sasha detected the hint of insincerity in his voice and narrowed her eyebrows.

“What?”

Roman plopped down on the couch and tried to deflect. “Forget it, it’s nothing.”

“You know that doesn’t work on me,” pressed Sasha. “It only makes me need to know.”

Roman closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his patience for this game running low, before cracking a roguish grin to himself. If she wants to have this conversation, he thought, might as well have some fun with it.

“Oh, I just didn’t think you were the kind of girl who would wait till prom night in some hotel room. It seems so cliché.”

Sasha’s nostrils flared while the rest of her face hardened. She suspected Roman was baiting her; he did that sometimes, and half the time Sasha was patient enough not to take the bait. This was not one of those times.

Okay. If that’s how he wants it.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t still be a virgin,” prodded Sasha with a saccharine edge her mom had mastered over the years, “if somebody in this room would simply make a move.”

“Oh, that’s supposed to be me?” answered an exasperated Roman, already tired of another patented Sasha Torres needling. “At least I don’t tease my partner with sex and then back down at the last moment, like some people I know.”

Sasha moved her hands to her hips and scowled. “When have I ever teased you with sex?”

“All the time!” Finally out of patience, Roman bounded out of the chair and returned to the kitchen as the gloves came off. “We do this nearly every week, Sasha. You start dropping hints that you’re ready, we make a plan, you get yourself all wound up, which gets me wound up, and then right as I prepare to initiate, you suddenly want your distance again. Lather, rinse, repeat.”

“What, you’ve never heard of playing hard to get?”

“For months on end with the person you’re already dating? No, this is something else. This is chickening out.”

“Oh please,” dismissed Sasha, storming off toward the laundry room. “You think I’m scared to have sex with you?”

“You’re damn right I do!” confirmed Roman, calling to her as Sasha balled up her apron and flung it into the hamper. She stayed there to seethe as he continued.

“I know you, Sasha. We’ve been together for too long for you to deny it. I know you puff out your chest and talk this big game, but you only do it when you’re afraid of getting hurt. But we’ve been together for a year, and with as much as we’ve already done together you’re only still a virgin on paper, so what is it about having sex with your boyfriend of a year that would hurt you so badly? What are you afraid of?”

Sasha pinched the bridge of her nose as her poker face began to crack. It was jarring to hear Roman give a near-verbatim voice to the thoughts she’d been pushing down all year. She had strung him along, and she didn’t have to ask herself why - the specter of her best friend pirouetting in front of her every time she closed her eyes gave it away.

But she was never one to give up a fight. Gritting her teeth and flinching her head to the side, she hurried back to the kitchen to re-engage.

“You are so full of shit. It takes two to tango, you know. At a certain point it’s your job to man up and take what you want.”

“Oh, so now you’re mad at me because I’m too respectful of your boundaries?”

“What boundaries? You said it yourself, my virginity is hanging by a thread. Are you waiting for some big neon sign across my chest that says ‘Do me’?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“I’m not so sure, Tyler.”

“All I want is for you to say it out loud. Do you want it?”

“I want it.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“I want it too.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

In a flash she was on him; it happened so quickly that Sasha was almost surprised when she came to and found herself kissing him. It was only when Roman kissed her back hard and wouldn’t let her pull away that she realized this was for real.

With lips locked, Roman wrapped his left arm around Sasha’s waist and pulled her tighter, Sasha returning the favor as she jammed her fingers through his hair to grip his scalp. Their momentum steered them toward the countertop and Roman hoisted Sasha back up, shoving the dish rack into the sink to make room for her atop the granite. Sasha was barely conscious of the dishes crashing and utensils scattering across the floor; she could only focus on Roman’s hand reaching up her skirt to grip her right thigh. Sasha gasped through his lips as a warm rush plummeted through her body, and when she felt his top knuckle brush up against her seam, it was game over.

Sasha lunged from the counter, wrapping her arms around the back of Roman’s neck and straddling her legs around his waist, her thighs squeezing tightly to give her the leverage to break their kiss and give him one order.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Roman urgently carried her out of the kitchen, and Sasha moaned with the friction of each step as he balanced his hand under her crotch. With his free hand he yanked down the zipper at the back of her skirt, and Sasha shimmied herself free of it as they cleared the threshold into her bedroom. Roman threw her down on the bed and lifted his black turtleneck over his head, Sasha hungrily eyeing his toned stomach as she undid the buttons on her blouse.

Propped up on her elbows, Sasha looked upon her boyfriend’s eager face and could tell Roman was still searching for that familiar flicker of doubt, for any sign that this was still a bridge too far for her. Even after all they said tonight, she trusted that if she didn’t want it he would still let her off the hook. All it took was a fiery blaze in her eyes as she spread her legs that assured him there would be no chickening out tonight.

**********

I should have done this sooner.

That was Sasha’s chief thought as she lay on her back, smiling and studying the blades of the ceiling fan as they lazily cut through the midnight air. Her right arm sat folded under her head, her left leg sticking out from beneath the sheet, her exhausted boyfriend out cold on his side next to her. Still wired from what she and Roman had done together, Sasha kept coming back to that refrain, and each time she did it made her smile even more.

Like, way sooner.

She loved it. It was fun, it made her feel sexy, and it was more than a little gratifying that she had driven him to come back for seconds. He had been rough with her - a year’s worth of pent-up tension released - but never to the point where she felt he crossed a line. Now, sprawled out in a blissful stupor, her skin still flushed from where his hands had done the most work, all Sasha wanted was for them to do it again. If Roman hadn’t been snoring on and off for the last hour, she would’ve been tempted to wake him up for round three.

Roman had been spot-on when he had called her out. Sasha had been afraid - afraid that it wouldn’t feel anything close to this, afraid that she would have to face the same emotional whirlwind that Melanie battled after she slept with Dez. Mostly afraid that she wouldn’t be able to set aside her true feelings for Boo any longer; the risk of losing her entirely was still too much to bear.

But it hasn’t been like that. She had enjoyed it - really enjoyed it. And aside from the pure pleasure of the act, Sasha wished she and Roman had done this sooner because it would have saved her a lot of mental strife.

It was all clear to her now: she loved Boo, but obviously what she felt for her was something different. Because she liked boys. She was straight after all.

With that, Sasha stretched and rolled to her side, her back to her boyfriend, and drifted into her easiest sleep in months.

Chapter Text

Boo sat on the steps next to the bike racks where Cozette had parked her Vespa and decided to give it one more ask.

“So you’re sure there’s nothing I can say to convince you to come?”

“Boo, they stopped selling tickets last Friday,” reminded Cozette sympathetically, seated on the brick ledge on the opposite side of the racks. “Even if we changed our minds, it’s too late now.”

“We can work around that! I’ve heard sometimes people sell their tickets last-minute to try and make a little extra cash.”

“Who would scalp tickets to prom?” scoffed Melanie, leaning back on the bridge between the two of them.

“It happens for concerts and sports, why not?”

“I think Carl’s made you watch Fast Times once too often.”

“If it means a little more Judge Reinhold eye candy, I don’t mind,” shrugged Boo with a smile.

“Right there with you, sister,” chimed in Cozette, drawing a bemused look from Melanie.

“Reinhold? Really?”

“Phoebe Cates.”

“Ahh, now that makes more sense,” affirmed Mel as the two of them, much like Judge Reinhold’s character, began reminiscing about a certain afternoon by the pool.

“Ahem,” interjected Boo, bringing her friends back from their daydream. “Seriously, if you two want to come I’m sure we can figure out a workaround.”

“Thanks, Boo,” answered Mel appreciatively, “but we’ve been looking forward to Laser Quest for too long to change course now.”

“We’re making a whole night of it,” added Cozette as she took her girlfriend’s hand. “After we finish zapping those hoards of teenage boys, we’re getting a big bucket of mint chocolate chip from Captain Sundae for a little late-night nosh by the lake.”

“Okay,” surrendered Boo. “But do you at least want to join us for dinner? We can easily change the Buca reservation from six to eight.”

“That would be nice!” admitted Cozette. “What do you say, Bug?”

“Now, a fancy dinner I can get behind,” agreed Mel. “Just as long as I don’t have to stare at that till dessert.”

Melanie bobbed her head across the walkway and the three of them took in a familiar sight: Ginny and her new boyfriend Clark were sucking face in a corner on the far side of the building, as they had done before school seemingly every day that spring.

“That used to be a popular makeout spot,” noted Boo. “I don’t think they’ve let anyone else have a turn since Easter.”

“You should see them during free period,” added Cozette. “Poor Martin Cubberley practically has to climb over them to get to his locker.”

Mel crossed her arms and arched her eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy she’s found someone to go steady with, but there’s such a thing as modesty when you’re in public, right?”

Cozette eyed Melanie mischievously. “This from the girl who grabs my ass practically every time she walks by?”

“That’s different!” defended Mel. “At least I try making it look like I’m just grazing my arm all willy-nilly!”

“Key word: try,” teased Cozette. Melanie glanced over to Boo for backup.

“I’ve gotta go with Zetty on this one, Mel,” admitted Boo with a sheepish grin. “At this point I’m surprised she doesn't have a permanent handprint!”

Cozette looked pleased with herself as Mel turned to give her a sultry look.

“Oh, you’re in for way more than a simple grabbing tonight.”

“So you’re finally gonna show me your mom’s old sorority paddle?”

“You wish.”

Melanie slipped two fingers between the buttons of her girlfriend’s top and tugged her forward for a kiss, drawing a giggle from Cozette and an eye roll from a smirking Boo.

“See, this is why the school needs more makeout spots,” observed Sasha as she approached from the parking lot. “One couple hogs the corner and everywhere you turn it’s Spring Awakening.”

“If it means that much to you,” offered Mel slyly, “I’ll start a focus group and send the findings to the Board of Ed.”

“Principal Troyer must be thrilled at the thought,” mused Sasha, drawing a giggle from Cozette.

“How was dinner with Roman last night?” asked Boo, noticing Sasha had an extra spring in her step despite her bleary eyes.

“Fine,” replied Sasha in a singsong voice. “I think he enjoyed dessert the best.”

“I didn’t think Roman liked sweets, what did you-”

Boo’s voice trailed off as she noticed Sasha grinning like a cat who’d just swallowed the canary.

“Sasha,” began a beaming Boo, “did you…”

“Finally join the club?” finished Sasha knowingly, her grin growing wider. “Someone will need to fit me for my jacket.”

“Praise be!” exclaimed Melanie, arms raised to the heavens. “And goodbye Virgin Alarm!”

Cozette bounded over to hug her friend. “Congratulations, Sasha! We’d love to hear about it if you’re willing to share.”

“Let’s just say,” teased Sasha as she turned and shared a knowing look with Boo. “Two days before prom wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.”

“Nah, you’re not getting off that easy, Torres,” insisted Mel. “We want details!”

“What are you, Page Six?”

“So I crave smut, sue me!”

“You want smut, go read 50 Shades.”

Cozette offered an olive branch. “At least tell us where it started?”

Sasha devilishly rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. “Kitchen.”

Melanie squealed. “That’s all I need! Let me guess: you were baking bread, he dabbed some flour on your nose, so you rubbed some across his cheek, and he…”

“She does this every now and then,” noted Cozette. “Gives her ideas for us to try.”

“What, like having sex in my kitchen?”

“Ooh, good one! Zetty, after we’ve done it in yours and mine, we can give Sasha’s a try.”

Sasha let out an exasperated grunt. “Please don’t have sex in my kitchen!”

“You can invoice us for the Lysol,” offered Cozette impishly. At the sound of the first warning bell, the couple departed the brick wall and strolled toward the front entrance, trading visions of spatulas and Cool Whip.

“Rabbits, the both of them,” appraised Sasha with a shake of her head as, right on cue, Mel strategically flailed her right hand to Cozette’s left butt cheek and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Totally,” agreed Boo. “Except sometimes rabbits need to sleep.”

“Right,” chuckled Sasha. The pair lingered as their classmates milled about toward their first period classes.

“So,” probed Boo gently when everyone else was out of earshot, “it was good, huh?”

“Yeah,” nodded Sasha, turning to face Boo with a smile. “It was pretty great. Just a matter of time, right?”

“Good. I’m really happy for you, Sasha.”

Sasha nodded wordlessly, and with that, the two finally set off for homeroom. They walked in silence for a few moments until Sasha decided to offer her best friend one bonus detail.

“For the record, there was no flour. Just a bunch of dishes scattered across the floor.”

“You little minx. Eat your heart out, Ana Steele!”

Chapter Text

Prom came and went, and with it another night of passion for Sasha and Roman. Then came a touch of afternoon delight that Sunday, another couple post-ballet quickies the next week, and a couple of weekend all-nighters they mixed in while they studied for their final exams. It was mostly rough, and there was little foreplay; to outsiders it might have seemed more like a “friends with benefits” scenario than a relationship that was about to clock in at a year. And Sasha loved every minute of it.

She felt more comfortable with it every time Roman took her to bed, and she learned something new about herself during each session. It even had her thinking of how it could enhance skill as a dancer, how she could add different ways to contort her body while stretching on the barre.

Summer break sat on the other side of this week, and instead of repeating the East Coast Joffrey program, Sasha would be workshopping in L.A. With her just a stone’s throw from Paradise, she and Roman could really make up for lost time. Their first anniversary was coming up, too; she thought about presents she could give him that they could enjoy together.

Sasha finally felt like she had it all figured out. Which made what happened the following Wednesday all the more jarring.

**********

Madam Fanny never scheduled formal class during finals week, so Sasha rushed back to her apartment after her last exam ready to give everything but her brain a workout.

“Home free,” sighed Sasha as she closed the door, tossed her backpack aside, and bounded over to straddle Roman, who sat fully clothed on the couch after letting himself in with her spare key. “I think I managed to pull a B in Physics. Thank God I had a practical reference point for torque.”

“Sasha…” exhaled Roman between kisses. “There’s something…we need…to talk…about…”

“Talk later,” dismissed a breathless Sasha, who paused only to whip off her t-shirt. “I want you to do that thing you did at the hotel on prom night.”

She replanted her lips on his and guided his passive hand to unbutton her shorts when all of a sudden he broke free.

“Sasha, stop it!”

Sasha froze like she’d been slapped in the face, tilting her head in confusion.

“What’s your problem?”

Roman took a deep breath and began.

“This isn’t working out.”

“Is it the couch?” interrupted Sasha. “This might work better on the bed. It’ll definitely work better once you get out of those jeans.”

“No, I don’t mean this,” continued Roman, beginning to gesture his arms between the two of them. “I mean this. Us. I think we should break up.”

Sasha’s shoulders drooped and her face went eerily blank.

“What,” she answered in a flat inflection that only half sounded like a question.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” repeated Roman. Sasha blinked once, her expression unchanging.

“You’re seriously breaking up with me right now.”

“Yes.”

“We just started having sex,” croaked Sasha matter-of-factly, her body still unmoving on his lap.

“I know,” said Roman through pursed lips in a monotone that matched Sasha’s. “I know the timing of this sucks, but-”

“The timing?” erupted Sasha, the color rushing back to her face as she bolted straight up. “The timing?!? We’ve been screwing for like two weeks after almost a year of dating and you decide to bail? Yeah, no shit the timing sucks!”

Roman nodded curtly in agreement, trying to maintain some level of civility, but none of his previous sparring with Angry Sasha could have prepared him for this.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time…”

“Oh, but you couldn’t dump me until you found out if I was a good fuck? Is that it?”

Roman sprung up from the couch as whatever patience he had left for her evaporated.

“Okay, fine. I deserve that one. Maybe I should have done this when I first had the thought.”

“What thought?” cut in Sasha, but Roman charged on.

“Maybe I liked you enough that I wanted to believe it wasn’t true and was willing to wait it out. But these past couple weeks only made it more obvious.”

“What thought?!?”

“That you like someone else!”

Sasha was beside herself. “You think I like…? We’ve slept together practically every day since prom and that’s what you think?”

“Not together,” explained Roman. “I’ve been sleeping with you, but I don’t think you’ve exactly been sleeping with me.”

“What kind of Freudian semantics are you-”

“Really think about it, Sasha. You talked about it incessantly even before we started, and since we did it’s all you want to do, but when we do it’s like you enter this weird trance where you’re not fully here. You always close your eyes-”

“Oh, so now we’re in a bad country song?”

“-and sometimes you move your mouth like you’re saying another name but your brain knows to filter out the sound. Worst of all, in the 10 times we’ve done it, you’ve never said my name!”

Sasha’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly for half a second; that one found the crack in her armor.

“I haven’t?”

“Not once.”

Sasha crossed her arms as if to force herself from spilling the beans. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she began meekly. “You’ve been my boyfriend for almost a year…”

“And that’s what’s the most fucked up here,” continued Roman, his tone growing steadier with confidence. “I think you’ve felt this way from the beginning. I think it’s why you kept talking about sex but didn’t let me make a move until now. Because you were ready back then. You’ve wanted to have sex this whole time. Just not with me.”

Sasha crossed her arms tighter - the room suddenly got cold as she stood there in her bralette - and averted her eyes as she realized the jig was up. He’d seen right through her mask, a mask she’d forgotten she was even wearing, and there was no use trying to keep it on now.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t like you too.”

“Yeah right,” dismissed Roman. “Nice knowing you, Sasha.”

Sasha looked on helplessly as Roman headed for the exit.

“It’s not that simple, okay?”

The pulse of desperation in her voice made Roman pause before he could reach for the door handle. Sighing, he turned around to hear her out.

“Maybe there was someone else before. And maybe those feelings didn’t entirely go away even after I met you. But I did meet you, and I do like you. A lot. You see me in ways this other person never did and maybe never will. And if you just give me more time, I’m sure my old feelings will fade and I can love you the way you deserve.”

Roman’s face lost its hard edge as he listened to what Sasha had to say. He wasn’t mad at her anymore, he could hear the truth in her words, and he sympathized with what she had apparently put herself through over the past year. But it wasn’t enough.

“You can’t know that,” he began evenly. “This started long before we got together, and if it hasn’t resolved itself by now I’m not sure it ever will. And if it doesn’t, you’ll never be all in with us. How is that fair to me? To you? To this other person?”

It wasn’t. Sasha couldn’t make herself say it, but she knew it was true. Roman had boiled their whole relationship down to one question, and now they both knew the answer.

“That’s what I thought,” concluded Roman without malice, turning from her to open the door.

“Roman?”

He paused and looked upon her one more time as Sasha, smiling sadly, tried one last gasp.

“What’s it going to look like? You leaving after we just started sleeping together? You know people will talk.”

Roman returned a smile just as sad.

“Your boyfriend is about to walk out on you and that’s the question you’re asking?”

Sasha let out a single laugh in spite of herself. One more final test and she had failed it. Checkmate. Gin. Jumanji.

With that, Roman shut the door behind him, leaving Sasha to figure out the answer by herself.

Chapter Text

Sasha contemplated that question and others as she sat in front of the studio mirror. She’d been there close to an hour, passing the time beforehand with a long shower, a lonely dinner at Hunan Garden, and an aimless walk through town, only arriving at her sanctuary when she knew she wouldn’t be bothered.

Now it was dark out and Sasha had the dimly-lit floor to herself, sitting cross-legged with elbows on her knees, eyes cast down toward her sneakers, moving only occasionally to scratch an itch or catch a weary glance of herself in the mirror.

A couple of points in particular unnerved her. One: even as she watched her first real relationship crumble before her eyes, Sasha’s main concern had been what other people would say about her when word got around that Roman had split. How much had she really cared for him if her knee-jerk reaction was to think about such window dressing?

Two: when Roman accused her, he never referred to a mysterious “he” or “some other boy.” He followed her lead and referred only to “this other person.” And it had never occurred to Sasha to deflect and say “he.” Did Roman suspect Sasha wasn’t exactly arrow-straight? And had he figured out who the “someone else” was?

Most of all, she lingered on his extra twist of the knife: Roman’s assessment about fairness and mixed loyalties echoed practically word-perfect to what Michelle had warned her about on Valentine’s Day, like a prophecy fulfilled. I ought to ask her for lottery numbers next, thought Sasha bitterly.

And what bothered her the most about that was how Michelle had urged her to make a choice, and she had. She’d chosen Roman. And it still didn’t keep her from ruining it all.

Sasha was considering how Michelle would bounce back from this when she heard the studio door open and a pair of footsteps slink in. Speak of the devil. No use trying to figure it out anymore if she could hear it straight from the source.

“Is someone in here? I thought this space was free, but I can come back lat-”

Sasha’s eyes snapped back into focus and she stood up at the sound of the unexpected voice.

“Boo?”

Indeed it was. Boo Jordan stood there in her camel-colored Uggs, charcoal sweatpants, and Carl’s red hoodie, plus a curious expression at the sight of another soul in the studio just past 9:00 on a school night.

“Sasha! I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone else would be here this late, I’ll just-”

“No, um, it’s okay,” insisted Sasha, raising her arm as if to brush away her surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Putting in a little extra work on my junior showcase,” explained Boo. “Michelle lets me come and rehearse after hours sometimes.”

“She lets me do the same,” commented Sasha, who took half a step away and added sarcastically, “I guess soon half the class will get keys to the joint.”

Immediately she regretted saying it. That was mean. You don’t get to be mean to Boo.

“Sasha, what’s wrong?”

Boo ignored the barb and instead honed in on the distress her friend seemed to be in. Grateful that she hadn’t hurt her, Sasha figured there was no use hiding it. She always reads me well.

“Roman dumped me.”

“What?!? When?”

“Just this afternoon.”

Sasha plopped back down in front of the mirror and hugged her knees to her chest, and Boo rushed over to sit next to her friend.

“What happened? You two were doing so well!”

Sasha smirked and rolled her eyes. “I guess we just wanted different things.” In a way it was true, and a cliché was way more useful an answer than you did, dummy.

Boo’s face fell and she reached her arm around Sasha’s shoulder.

“Oh Sasha, I’m so sorry. He’s a jerk and an idiot.”

Sasha reached to her shoulder and squeezed Boo’s hand. “He is, on both counts. But he wasn’t entirely wrong. He said some things that made me realize it wasn’t going as well as I thought.”

“That sounds like gaslighting, doesn’t it?” Boo had written her final essay for Psych class on the topic; it had fascinated her all semester. “I won’t let him gaslight you like that.”

“No, it’s the truth,” countered Sasha, smiling weakly in appreciation of her friend’s concern. “When he did it, I accused him of only staying with me so that we could have sex, but I think I was just projecting my own feelings.”

“But you didn’t start dating Roman just for sex,” defended Boo.

“I didn’t, you’re right. And things with us started out great, but you saw how much we were fighting by the end. I think sex was the last thing we were waiting on before we gave ourselves permission to walk away. Roman just knew it before I did.”

Boo sighed and nodded in understanding, trying to think of a quick way to cheer Sasha up. “Do you think a rebound would help? Half the boys at school will be thrilled you’re single again.”

Sasha was flattered by the sentiment, but with Ginny’s experience earlier that year still fresh in her mind, she gave the idea only a cursory thought before shaking her head.

“No, I don’t think it would. I hated being blindsided like this, and the fact that it did means I’m not as in touch with myself as I want to be. Juilliard’s only a year away, and I need to put ballet in the center of my life again. I can’t do that if I’m running around with some boy.”

“Okay,” said Boo, proud of the clarity Sasha had reached. “But let me know if you change your mind. I’ve hung out with Ginny’s theater friends a few times, and most of them are single. You’d just have to put up with them randomly quoting old Humphrey Bogart movies.”

“Oh, so I’d fit right in?” quipped Sasha.

“I guess you would,” chuckled Boo. Sasha joined in and set her hand on Boo’s thigh, looked into her eyes, and saw her not as an unrequited crush but as the best friend who was here for her when she needed her most.

“Thanks, Boo.”

Boo grinned back, and the two broke eye contact, calm and content in the easy silence of each other’s company.

“So,” asked Boo after letting the moment breathe, “how’s your showcase piece coming? Did you end up choosing that Erin McKeown song?”

“Yeah, I did. It’s coming together, I guess. I’ll need to run the backup blocking with the youngsters a couple more times before it’s ready for the Stone Center.”

“Do you feel like showing me?”

“I don’t think I’m in the right headspace tonight,” admitted Sasha, taking a beat before glancing back at Boo. “I’d love to see what you’re working on, though.”

That caught Boo off guard; this had to be the first time Sasha had asked her to dance for her since at least elementary school. “Really?”

“Really,” urged Sasha. “You’re the one who came here to work tonight. I was only here to mope.”

“Okay!” Boo’s grin stretched wide enough to nearly touch her ears. She handed Sasha her phone and Sasha arose to make her way to the stereo and give Boo the floor.

“You’re doing an old Something Corporate number, right?”

“Jack’s Mannequin, actually,” clarified Boo as she slid off her boots and stepped out of her sweats. “But close enough. It should be queued up.”

Sasha found the aux cord and connected Boo’s phone, punched in her passcode, and waited for the signal to start. Boo slid down into a split on the floor, leaned forward with her arms stretched as far as they could go, and gave a thumbs up.

“Take one,” declared Sasha as she pressed play and leaned against the studio piano. “Show me what you got, Six.”

The song began with a heartsick piano chord and Boo retracted her arms, raising them above her head with the next notes and gracefully changing their angles with each new chord. Her prelude continued as Andy McMahon broke in with the vocals.

I am looking for a sign, my spirit’s faded
She holds on like a vine, patterns in traffic
That sound just like my heart, racing in the dark
In time to catch you

As the rest of the instruments chimed in, Boo pushed herself up with her legs straight into a pirouette .

No one should let you
Go wandering off into the night,
You’re not an orphan

Sasha got the concept right away: Boo danced like a porcelain figurine who had escaped from a life-size music box. She could easily envision her performing the routine in a classic pink tutu, something straight from the closet at the Bolshoi. Truly Stone would have a field day sewing that costume.

For now, though, Sasha watched as Boo moved about in far more casual attire than a typical Madam Fanny class would allow. That evening she was wearing an ivory-colored sports bra and black spandex shorts, the latter of which seriously complimented her…

Sasha closed her eyes and jerked her head back and forth, not letting herself finish the thought, forcing herself to focus on Boo taking total command of the room.

I keep waiting for my breath to come back never
So I’ll take what I have left, patterns in traffic
That pulse just like my heart racing in the dark
In time to catch you, no one should let you
Go wandering off into the night,
You’re not an orphan

In a way, Sasha thought as she watched her friend twirl about effortlessly, it really was a shame that Boo had chosen this as her passion. Leave it to dance culture to take a girl with a perfectly healthy body and drive her to the knife’s edge of self-destruction. If Cozette hadn’t been in the next stall over the one time Boo had attempted to purge…

Fairly or not, Boo would always have to work harder than her peers to convince the powers that be that she belonged, to make her see them the way Michelle, Fanny, and the rest of the class saw her: graceful, visionary, beautiful…

…So, so beautiful…

Right there to catch you, I won’t forget you,
Now you’re wandering to the night,
But you’re no orphan

At long last, Sasha had arrived at the conclusion she had been barreling toward all night. Maybe all spring. Maybe since that visit to the mall almost five years ago.

She liked boys, but she liked girls too. Or, at the very least, this girl…

“What happened?” whispered Sasha to herself, the corners of her mouth angled up just enough to form a secret smile. “You did, dummy.”

I never thought the day would come,
They tell me that you’ve finally run,
I guess you always said you would someday

Chapter Text

May 2014

“Well I think that’s officially the most graceful anyone’s ever looked dancing to Flo Rida,” declared a breathless Boo, smiling after she and Sasha had gotten sufficiently “low, low, low, low.”

“That’s an easy bar to clear,” agreed Sasha as she reached up to readjust her hair tie. The girls had been content to loosen up their “prom hair” as they boogied through the night’s final hour. “I’ll bet you nobody’s ever tried jeté-ing in ‘boots with the fur.’”

“I’ll take that bet,” sighed Boo, hands on her hips and looking up as she caught her breath. “Where did our shoes end up?”

Sasha scanned the ballroom floor, which by that point was clearer and mostly consisted of packs of friends. As the night wore on, the Paradise Yacht Club had become a playground of couples peeling off to find quiet places together.

“There, in the front by Bash.” Sasha scampered over to grab her pair and Boo’s as “MC’spresso” moved onto an old Lady Gaga number. For once, the two friends were inclined to not “just dance.”

“I could use some air.”

“Same,” agreed Boo. She glanced toward the punchbowl and saw Carl and Jordan shooting the breeze. “Let’s get back in time for the last slow dance though.”

“Deal,” agreed Sasha. “Want to check out the pier?”

Boo craned her neck toward the back of the ballroom and saw Frankie escorting Ginny through the door.

“Let’s give them their privacy. There’s got to be another door that leads outside.”

“Allegedly you can get to the water from the lower floor.”

“Lead the way!”

Boo followed Sasha through a side door and the two searched for a way out, striking out with smaller event spaces and offices on their first few tries.

“I thought I heard voices behind this one,” said Boo as they reached a large door near the front of the club. “Maybe it’s a staircase.” She cracked it open and Sasha peeked inside with her.

“Occupied!” squeaked Cozette - her face flushed, bowtie disheveled, and tuxedo pants at the base of the door next to Melanie’s Doc Martens. Mel was straddling Cozette and arched forward for another kiss, with Cozette’s arms disappearing up in the folds of her girlfriend’s dress.

Boo hurriedly slammed the door and leaned back against it, trading a wide-eyed smirk with Sasha. “Sorry!” she whispered sheepishly, and the two tried suppressing giggle fits as they scampered away.

“Maybe it’s a good thing they didn’t come last year,” considered Sasha. “The walls at that hotel were really thin.”

“Oh, now you tell me,” tittered Boo as they broke out giggling again.

Finally they located a staircase and wandered through a basement area before coming upon a sliding glass door. Sasha undid the lock and she and Boo crossed the threshold into the quiet night, the pulsing music from the upstairs ballroom reduced to a dull hum. The pier lights illuminated a small patch of beach that led to an undisturbed ocean.

“This will do.” Sasha grinned, slipping out of her shoes and into the sand, while Boo hesitantly hung back.

“Madam Fanny’s not going to bite your head off for a little prom night mischief,” teased Sasha.

“It’s not that,” replied Boo half-truthfully as she dawdled undoing her heels. “I don’t want to mess up my dress.”

Sasha scrunched her face in thought for a moment before taking the extra hair tie from her wrist and setting up behind Boo. She then reached for the bottom of her friend’s thick skirt and began hiking it up.

“Here, let me see if I tie this high enough…”

“Ope!” Boo flinched and reached toward her butt, looking back at Sasha with a smirk. “Watch it, handsy!”

“Sorry!” grimaced Sasha, who wasn’t even trying to touch Boo there; her hand just reflexively sought out her backside. Ooh, gotta watch that.

Her dress safely fastened at the knee, Boo tiptoed onto the beach while Sasha whipped the tie out of her hair and knotted her own looser skirt halfway up her thigh. The two ambled through the sand for a time before reaching the shoreline and wading into the water.

“You’re a bad influence,” accused Boo mischievously. “I could get used to breaking this rule.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” assured Sasha wryly.

“Good, because this is worth it.”

Boo closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air with a smile, giving herself over to the peaceful lapping of the waves at her calves. Sasha smiled as she watched her best friend of over a decade hone in on a moment of zen.

“You’re a really good dancer, you know,” offered Sasha after a long silence. “I don’t say that often enough. You’ve grown so much over these last couple years.”

Boo grinned at the complement and yet another glimpse at a tenderness from Sasha that had been so rare up until recently. “What can I say? I did learn from the best.”

“Who, Matisse?” cracked Sasha without missing a beat.

“Yeah, exactly.”

The two chuckled and settled into another comfortable silence.

“I still can’t believe how it all worked out,” resumed Boo with a shake of her head. “Growing up I thought I’d be lucky getting a couple semesters at Ventura Community. Occidental might as well have been on Mars.”

“You were always college material. Once people finally got their head out of their ass they started to notice.”

“Michelle had a lot to do with that. And Ms. Bledel was a godsend, finding all those scholarships.” Indeed, the young guidance counselor had been a champion of Boo’s throughout her senior year.

“Seriously,” agreed Sasha. “Who knew the firemen’s union had so much grant money lying around?”

“I think Mom was more surprised than I was when I told her.”

“Now we know where all of the money from those chili cook-offs goes.”

“Right? And here I thought it went for Turtle Wax for the trucks.”

Sasha shook her head and laughed at the quip; Boo was funnier than people gave her credit for.

“Ms. Bledel wrote Carl a great recommendation for NYU too, didn’t she?”

“That she did. I told him about my firemen’s grant tonight and he seemed really happy.”

Boo crossed her arms and gazed off toward the sea with a pensive sigh.

“You okay?” Sasha had picked up on the subtle slide in Boo’s mood.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” dismissed Boo automatically.

Sasha furrowed her brow. “Come on, you’ve got something on your mind. Spill it.”

Boo shook her head and pursed her lips. She supposed she’d have to talk about it with someone eventually; the sooner the better.

“I think Carl and I are about to break up.”

“Really? What’s going on?”

“I can tell he’s not entirely interested in continuing things once we live on opposite coasts.”

Sasha cringed. “Oh Boo, you didn’t hit him over the head with that LAX-Newark thing tonight, did you?”

“I did,” admitted Boo sheepishly. “Guess I should’ve waited till tomorrow, huh?”

“Only if you wanted to get laid at the Alvarados’ party.”

Boo snickered. “Focused on the big picture as always.”

The two fell silent again, Boo not in the mood to discuss it any further and Sasha thinking about what to say next. This could be the moment she had been waiting on for years: Boo was about to be single again and Sasha was finally secure enough with her feelings to do something about it.

But as she began to get a grip on her heart rate, Sasha realized there would be other times for romantic overtures. There was something more important to be done here. Boo had been the perfect best friend to her when things ended with Roman last year; now it was time for Sasha to return the favor.

“I know it’s hard to lose your first boyfriend,” Sasha began, “but just because he’s your first doesn’t mean he’ll be your best. You deserve better anyway.”

Boo shot Sasha a look. “There you go again.”

Sasha scrunched her face in confusion. “What?”

“Talking down about Carl.” Boo turned around and began wading back toward the beach. “Sometimes I get the feeling you still don’t like him. Ginny and Mel gave him a chance and they became friends, I don’t understand why you couldn’t…”

“No! It’s not that,” assured Sasha as she hurried to catch up to Boo, kicking saltwater up to the hem of her dress. “I didn’t mean it like that, Boo, I’m sorry. This isn’t about him. What I meant is that this is just the beginning for you.”

Boo eyed Sasha with a mix of hopefulness and skepticism as they reached the water’s edge and Sasha gently gripped her shoulders.

“You’re about to take this huge new step in your life. Think about it: you were in a place where even junior college was going to be a stretch, and now you’re about to be on scholarship at the place our freakin’ president started out. Forget Michelle and Ms. Bledel for a second. You did that, Boo. Through sheer force of will, you set yourself up to get out of Paradise and make a better life for yourself.

“You’re going to go to Occidental, and you’re going to dance and make friends and fuck strangers at parties,” continued Sasha, with Boo spitting out a laugh at her last point. “And your life is going to be so much more than Carl Cramer, or whoever else is lucky enough to call you their girlfriend.

“You are an amazing woman, Boo Jordan. You’re passionate and talented and kind, and all I want is for you to see yourself the way I see you.”

Boo struggled to hold back tears as she smiled. Nobody had ever painted her in such a wonderful light before.

“You’re always so nice to me,” whispered Boo as she dabbed her eyes with her palms. “You’re not nice like this to anyone else.”

“You bring it out in me naturally,” admitted Sasha as she leaned in to thumb a stray tear from the corner of Boo’s eye. “You always have.”

Almost subconsciously, Sasha’s hand shifted over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Boo’s ear and moved down the side of her cheek, coming to a rest at the side of her chin. She held it there for two seconds longer than she intended, lost in the gaze of Boo’s trusting blue eyes.

Only an imperceptible shift in Boo’s expression and a distant “three songs left” call from Bash broke Sasha from her trance.

“That’s our cue,” declared Sasha as she withdrew her hand and backtracked across the beach. “Meet you back on the floor!”

With a grin, Sasha undid the knot to let her dress flow free, grabbed her shoes, and bounded through the sliding door to make her way back to the ballroom. It took her until she was halfway up the stairs for her to realize she was alone.

Boo lingered back - feet planted in the sand, the waves rushing up to her toes - and slowly reached for her cheek, still warm from where Sasha had rested her hand. Suddenly something clicked, her gasp audible evidence of her revelation. Eyes widening, Boo looked curiously at the door her best friend had just passed through and for the first time considered the question that would haunt her all summer.

Does Sasha…like me?

Chapter Text

May 2015

“That was when I first started figuring it out,” recalled Boo as she stroked Sasha’s hair.

“I wasn’t exactly subtle about it, was I?” probed Sasha, who snuggled closer as she felt Boo’s fingernails brush her scalp. “You did catch me staring longingly a few times that summer…”

“Not to mention the way you’d find excuses to stand behind me so you could grope me.”

“‘Grope’ is such a strong word.”

“Well, you had a strong grip!”

“Guess that’s what I get for trying to take a page out of Mel’s book.”

“Pfft, please. You made Mel look like black ops!”

“Honestly, can you blame me?” asked Sasha in a singsong voice, reaching across Boo’s body to trace the back of her finger down her curves. “It’s too bad we always had notes to get out of gym class, it would’ve given me more time to watch you in those tight little shorts…”

Boo squealed as she felt Sasha pinch her ass. She reached back to yank a giggling Sasha’s hand away, the momentum drawing her in for a kiss. Sasha cooed as Boo’s lips pressed against hers - the flavor of her coconut lip balm miraculously still there - still barely believing this wasn’t one of her dreams.

Their heads soon landed on their respective pillows and Boo pulled the covers over the both of them - a grown-up version of schoolmates trading secrets at a sleepover - and Mazzy Star began to croon for them from the Oxy radio stream.

“But when I thought about it more, I realized the signs had always been there. You were hard on me sometimes but you only really got mean if there was a boy involved.”

“The stereotypical ‘I pick on you because I like you’ ploy,” cringed Sasha. “Pushing you in the pond when Henry McCabe gave you that flower on the Thousand Oaks field trip, telling Reggie Flood you couldn’t study with him because your period had just started…”

“Seeing me move to the front of class for Charlie Segel and suggesting I give him a lap dance.”

“That one was probably wish fulfillment on my end.”

Boo smirked and playfully swatted Sasha’s shoulder.

“I definitely went too far a few times,” conceded Sasha. “I didn’t know why I felt the way I did, and I didn’t have a healthy way to process jealousy, so I just took it out on you.”

“I wish you had told me earlier…I really liked that Thousand Oaks dress; we never could get the algae stains out of it.”

“I know, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for the way I dumped all of this on you last summer and went radio silent. As much as I wanted for us to be together, I wanted you to get there on your own, without me pressuring you.”

“To experiment in my own time.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, how was I for someone who’d never gone all the way with a girl before?”

“You were great,” assured Sasha, reaching out to take her hand. It was hard for her to be objective, but Boo had a surprisingly good sense of what to do in bed, even if she was a little stiff at the touch of another woman. Probably just nerves. “And you’ll only get better. Once we come out together I’m sure it’ll make things easier on you too.”

“Yeah,” laughed Boo nervously, noting how Sasha had conveniently forgotten her disclaimer before their first kiss. “Once we come out…”

Boo practically jumped out of her skin as she heard a knock and her mom’s voice at the door.

“Hey kiddo,” called Nanette. “I’m heading to bed. Is Sasha spending the night?”

“I better,” lilted Sasha as she emerged from under the covers, “after your daughter-”

Boo clamped a hand over Sasha’s mouth, her eyes bugging out.

“Yeah Mom, she’s sleeping over!”

“Anything else you need in there?”

A lock on my door, perhaps? thought Boo ruefully.

“She’s a generous lover, Mrs. Jordan!” attempted to praise Sasha, her voice muffled through Boo’s hand.

“No, we’re fine in here!” Boo had a hard time getting the words out straight; Sasha kept trying to tickle her stomach.

“You should be proud!”

“Okay,” answered Nanette. “See you two in the morning!”

“Goodnight!”

“Sweet dreams!”

Boo kept Sasha muzzled until she heard her mom’s footsteps fade down the hall, at which point she became aware of a warm, wet sensation in her palm.

“Ew!” cried Boo with a laugh as she released her hand, revealing a wry, toothy grin from Sasha. “Quit licking me, you freak!”

“Takes one to know one!”

“‘Takes one to know one’? What is this, third grade?”

“Well, I don’t know what they were teaching you in third grade…”

“Don’t make me shut you up again,” warned Boo sensually. “I’ve got a closet full of ribbons and I’m not afraid to use them.”

“Mmm,” purred Sasha. “Do your worst, Bettina.”

Sasha placed her hand on the back of Boo’s head and pulled her in for another kiss, prompting Boo to loop her arm around Sasha’s slender waist. Sasha gasped as she felt Boo’s lips on her collarbone, smiled blissfully, and yanked the sheet back over them, creating a bubble for her and the woman she loved to enjoy each other in peaceful privacy.

Chapter Text

August 2015

Boo had been pacing enough to carve a trench into her bedroom floor. She checked the clock on her bedside table - 7:01. Sasha had to be close now.

It was uncharacteristically quiet. At Boo’s request, Nanette had given her the house for the evening so that she could do what needed to be done. Now, with the moment she had put off until the last night of summer approaching, She couldn’t decide if the silence was soothing or unnerving.

She felt her phone vibrate and took it out of her jeans pocket - Sasha’s text was dated 7:02.

Here

Boo quickly typed a reply.

Door’s open, come on up

Boo listened as the front door unlatched and counted Sasha’s paces up the steps, silently praying things wouldn’t get as bad as she knew they inevitably would. She stood statue-still as her bedroom door swung open and Sasha walked in with a grin.

“Hey, babygirl,” greeted Sasha seductively with the nickname she’d assigned Boo in the past month.

“Hey,” answered Boo steadily, the two sharing a quick peck on the lips as Sasha spied Boo’s packed bags in the corner.

“So what do you think,” asked Sasha idly. “Pack your car first and then get frisky, or frisky first and then pack?”

“Well…”

Sasha answered her own question. “We should probably pack first; we’ll have more brain power to make space for when we get my stuff tomorrow morning. Plus, I think we both know once we get in that bed neither of us will want to get out.”

“Yeah, um, Sasha…”

“Yes, Boo?”

“Before we get to that,” began Boo cautiously, taking a seat on the edge of her bed, “Can we talk about something?”

“What kind of something?”

The corners of Boo’s mouth ticked up into a sad, muted smile, her eyes already apologizing for what was about to happen. Moments later she saw the life force drain from Sasha’s body: her shoulders slumped, her eyes widened in horror, and her face drained of color; within two seconds Sasha had gone white as a sheet.

“No…”

**********

“Please don’t do this!”

“I told you I didn’t know if I would feel this way forever. I told you that on the very first night.”

“Exactly! Just because you don’t have those feelings right now doesn’t mean you won’t again!”

“I don’t think those feelings are ever coming back.”

“But you can’t know that for sure! Just give it time.”

“I gave it time! I gave it the whole summer, Sasha. And tomorrow you’re going back to New York, and I’m going back to L.A., and I just can’t give anymore!”

“Is it the distance? People have bicoastal relationships all the time, it just takes a little more work. We can text or FaceTime or find sugar daddies with private jets! There’s a lot of sleazy millionaires in New York who would help us out. We just have to find one. Don’t give up on this yet. We can still make this work, Boo!”

“Sasha, I don’t want this!”

…

…

“Fine. I can’t make you want this.”

“I’m so sorry, Sasha! It’s me, okay? This has nothing to do with you. Please don’t think it’s you, you know that I still love-”

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare talk to me about love, Boo Jordan. I won’t let you. Not after you used me for a whole summer to play out some lesbian fever dream.”

“Sasha, I…”

“And don’t start crying. You do not have my permission to cry. Because if you start crying, I’ll start crying, and you do not have my permission to see me cry.”

**********

The slamming of the door behind her snapped Sasha Torres out of her rage. As her senses belatedly honed in on the late summer air and the moths dancing in the porch lights, she leaned against the Jordans’ front door as the gravity of what just happened hit and forced her sliding down.

Boo had just broken up with her. And Sasha never saw it coming. She had dreamed of being with Boo like this for six years, and all that summer she let herself believe it was going to last forever. It had lasted barely three months.

Sasha slid further down the door, the weight of the facts steadily pushing her, until she was seated on the hard ground of the doorstep. An involuntary sob escaped her - Sasha reached up to clamp her mouth and try to keep from gasping out again; if Boo couldn’t see her cry, she desperately didn’t want Boo to hear her cry.

The mere thought of Boo elicited a second sob, then a third as Sasha realized that just one summer together was enough to convince the person she loved most in the world that Sasha wasn’t worth loving like that. I don’t want this.

She was truly alone now.

It took all of Sasha’s strength to cut herself off at three sobs. She got up off the stoop and walked as calmly as she could away from Boo’s house. Somehow through her brain haze and the backlog of tears welling in the corners of her eyes, she found her way to Madam Fanny’s guest house; mercifully, a light was on.

Michelle answered the door promptly after three knocks. At the sight of her mentor’s sympathetic eyes, Sasha broke down as she never had before, letting the anguish of the moment take her. Michelle’s arms were around her in a flash, pulling the heartbroken girl into a tight squeeze that tried to assure her the worst of it was over.

**********

Sasha cried with Michelle for a long time, and eventually her tears couldn’t keep up with the demand. Once she had dried out she finally started to settle; she sat comatose on the couch next to Michelle, a hot mug of watery tea between her hands.

“How could this have just been a phase?” Sasha had asked over and over; with each repetition the question became more rhetorical. “We've been together for months, we’ve been having sex for months. How could she have been faking it this whole time?”

Michelle knew better than to try and explain her own theories; she hoped Sasha would eventually come to it on her own, but for now the best thing Michelle could do was listen and empathize.

“I’m sorry, kid. I know how you feel - it sucks. There’s no way around it.”

“You know how I feel?” shot back Sasha incredulously. “What, you also pined for your same-sex best friend since junior high, kissed her spur-of-the-moment, and waited another year to get together with her, only for her to reject you without warning at the end of the summer?”

Michelle winced; poor choice of words.

“Okay, so maybe not exactly how you feel…”

Sasha shook her head and buried her face in her hands. Michelle draped an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder.

“I begged, Michelle. I practically got down on my knees begging her. And it didn’t make any difference.”

“I know, sweetie, I know…”

“It’s just so…humiliating. That’s the word. I feel humiliated.

She sat there marinating in the feeling for a time. Then her eyes popped open as something took root.

“She likes being humiliated, you know.”

“Hmm?” queried Michelle, not following.

“Boo,” explained Sasha. “She’s really into humiliation and submission, it’s like her main kink. She told me all about it. It started the night of that Nutcracker fundraiser - remember how she dressed herself down in front of everyone to apologize to Carl, and that’s how they ended up together? I guess her brain took that and ran with it.”

Michelle nodded and crossed her legs, looking uneasy, as Sasha stood up and continued. She hadn’t wanted to hear this the one time she’d caught them together in the studio, and she didn’t want to hear it now.

“The things we did, the things she’d fantasized about doing…things she made me promise not to tell anyone. I’ve got years of that on her…”

Now Michelle really didn’t like where this was going, especially when she saw Sasha’s eyes harden as Angry Sasha broke to the surface.

“I could ruin her.”

“Sasha…”

“No, it would be easy. I know this town, just a few stray words and the rumors would spread like wildfire. I could make it so everyone knows what we did - the things she said when I had her on her knees, the way she squirms when she really gets into it. There’s no faking that kind of pleasure. She’d never be able to show her face in this town again! Knowing her, she’d probably get off on it, the little whore. Everyone would know what a freak in the bedroom sweet, innocent Boo Jordan really is. I could ruin her…”

“But you won’t,” interrupted Michelle.

“You don’t think I could?” challenged Sasha as Michelle stood up.

“Not what I’m saying. Of course you could. You could tell everyone where the skeletons are hidden and make things so bad for Boo she’d be afraid to leave the house; you’re right, a secret this juicy would get around. I’m saying you won’t.”

“And why wouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’ll never forgive yourself, Sasha,” implored Michelle. “Because right now you’re hurt and it’s raw and you’re lashing out, but when this anger passes and you look back on this moment, you’ll never forgive yourself if you hurt Boo.”

Michelle had called her bluff, and it stopped Sasha in her tracks. For just a moment she allowed herself to envision seeing her plan through - Boo’s confidence shattered, unable to walk the streets of her own hometown without people undressing her with their eyes. And she realized Michelle was right. What she envisioned was way beyond what Boo had done to her. And as bad as Sasha felt now, she would hate herself forever if she hurt Boo like that.

Even after Boo had hurt her first.

“Oh, God…”

Sasha collapsed back into Michelle’s arms and cried fresh tears. No matter Michelle’s assurances, she knew her ordeal was far from over. Maybe the worst of it had passed; maybe it was just beginning. All Sasha knew is that she had to get out of Paradise.

“Can you do me a huge favor?” asked Sasha meekly.

“What time is your flight?”

“Eleven.”

“We’ll leave at seven.”

**********

Sasha slept on Michelle’s couch that night - sleep being a relative term - and the two hit the road at dawn. It was a quiet ride, Sasha lost in thought and Michelle not forcing any small talk on her. As she stared out at the early freeway traffic, Sasha wordlessly sold herself on her plan.

In her head she dubbed it “Operation Clean Break,” and it was as straightforward as it sounded: Sasha would sever contact with everyone she had known in Paradise. There was nothing left for her there - she had no family in town, and her apartment lease had long since expired. Paradise may have been her hometown, but it wasn’t home anymore.

At the center of her plan, of course, was Boo. Last night made her realize what she was capable of if Angry Sasha ever lost control, but it went beyond just anger. Boo was an emotional conductor for Sasha; whether it was love, hate, lust, jealousy, or heartbreak, Sasha felt things too much when her best friend-turned-lover-turned-ex was involved. It would be healthier for the both of them if she just quit Bettina Jordan cold turkey.

Unfortunately, it meant Sasha had to quit Ginny and Melanie too. Eventually they would ask why she and Boo weren’t speaking to each other; she would have to tell them about that summer or lie, and she didn’t think she could bring herself to do either. Ginny and Mel were the only other friends Sasha had kept in touch with since graduation, and much like with Boo that past year, their interactions had been few and far between.

Sasha continued justifying herself as the Southern California morning rolled by, at peace with her choice. Juilliard would keep busy enough over the next few years, and New York was a big enough city in which to lose herself.

Before she knew it, they had arrived at LAX and Michelle had parked in the United departure lane. They sat for a moment without meeting each other’s gaze before Michelle broke the silence.

“You’ll text me when you get back to your apartment?”

“Sure,” answered Sasha flatly.

“Okay.” Michelle knew there was only a 50/50 shot of her actually doing so. She popped her trunk and unlocked her doors.

“Michelle?”

“Yeah?”

Sasha looked toward her mentor with tears in her eyes, finally realizing what else she would lose by putting Paradise squarely in her past.

“Thank you. For this. For everything.”

Michelle smiled sadly and took hold of her girl’s hand.

“See you around, Sasha.”

“See you around,” replied Sasha, picking up on Michelle’s avoidance of the word “goodbye” and grateful for it. With a squeeze of her hand she exited the passenger door, grabbed her backpack and suitcase from the trunk, and shared one last wave with Michelle, who pulled away from the gates.

Sasha watched Michelle’s car disappear out of sight, took a deep breath, and walked through the airport doors, ready if not quite willing to face her brave new world alone.

Chapter Text

December 2016

Sasha stared silently through the ceiling fan, not moving a muscle, barely daring to breathe. She had to know he was completely asleep. He had been snoring for some time, but Sasha couldn’t say how long for sure; it was dark and the alarm clock on his bedside table was just out of her line of sight. A hunch told her it had been 25 minutes, so she wordlessly slipped out from under the sheet to make her getaway.

Rifling through the dark, Sasha located her dress on the floor and slipped it on, wincing as the dull ache in her left shoulder intensified. She had managed to roll when he pushed her off the bed earlier that night, so the pain would at least subside soon. It was the bruise that she would have the hardest time masking when she returned to class on Monday.

Sasha found the rest of her clothes, shimmied her underwear up beneath her dress, and stuffed her bra in her purse, feeling around to make sure her phone, keys, and wallet were still there. Then she grabbed her heels, tiptoed to the door, held her breath, and cracked it open just wide enough to slink through and close it with the faintest of clicks. Wanting to put serious distance between herself and his apartment as quickly as possible, Sasha hurried through the hall and downstairs, only stopping to put her heels on before leaving through the building entrance.

Bracing herself against the chill of the wintery night, Sasha whipped out her phone - noting the time, 1:10 a.m. - plugged in the Queensboro Plaza stop, and memorized the seven-minute walk, which she made in half the time. She only had to wait 10 minutes for the next N train that would take her home. She knew it was a risk riding the Metro so late, but it was better than walking out in the open where he might see her if he woke up and went looking for her.

At least I didn’t give him my address or real name, thought Sasha gratefully as the train opened its doors and she took a seat inside, running her hands through her short, platinum blonde-dyed hair - one more bit of misdirection. He would have no way of finding her again, and she didn’t intend on spending much time in Long Island City beyond that night.

As Sasha counted off the stops, she wondered how she ever let things get this far. She’d always enjoyed rough hookups, but these past few matches had pushed her beyond where she’d ever expected to go. She thought of the lady cab driver from Murray Hill last month who had enjoyed herself too much putting Sasha “in her place,” but the cabbie had practically coddled her compared to the man tonight. Sasha knew she couldn’t go much further than that or else she could get really hurt.

Sasha got off at 30th Avenue and zigzagged her way through Astoria until she found Athens Square Park and her building across the street. As she trudged up to the third floor and fished the keys out of her purse, she was eager to slip into her humble studio and put this long, awful night behind her.

Snap

Sasha stared bewildered at the jagged remains of her key, the other half of which was now firmly lodged in the keyhole. She tried jamming her half back into the hole, hoping to make the pieces fit so she could turn the lock, but it was no use. She was locked out.

Groaning, Sasha took out her phone to call her landlord, hoping he was the type to still be awake at two in the morning on the weekend. She heard it ring four times before he groggily answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mr. Jenks? It’s Sasha Torres in 3A. I’m really sorry, but I can’t get into my apartment, my-”

“Sasha,” grumbled Mr. Jenks. “The rules are right there in the lease. You get one freebee, but you lose your key a second time and you’ll have to pay for the replacement…”

“No, I didn’t lose it,” explained Sasha. “It broke.”

“…It broke?”

“Yes, I went to unlock my door and it snapped clean off.”

The line went silent as Mr. Jenks processed the information, Sasha hoping it didn’t sound like a tall tale.

“Damn foreign steel,” muttered Mr. Jenks, “that’s the second one this month. Okay Sasha, I’m going to get my maintenance guy out there to open your door. It’ll be a couple hours till he can get to you, though.”

“That’s fine,” sighed Sasha in relief. “Thank you, Mr. Jenks.”

“No problem. Do you have somewhere to go before he gets there?”

“No, I’ll just be sitting outside my door.”

“Easy enough. Good night, Sasha.”

“Good night.”

Sasha set herself up in the corner at the top step, just to the left of her temporarily functionless door, and readied herself for an even longer night. As she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, she thought of Mr. Jenks’ question - she didn’t have anywhere else to go, but she didn’t want to be alone right now either. If Sasha could get someone to come and sit with her, or at least stay on the phone with her until maintenance arrived, it would make her feel safer.

She opened up Instagram - Sasha only had a few classmates’ numbers - and began scrolling to see who had posted that night; surely somebody would still be up and would answer her DM.

And that’s when she saw it. Sixth post down, from three hours ago; it would have been around 8:00 out West. Santa Monica Pier. A girl in a red minidress had her arms wrapped around a boy’s waist from the side and was staring up at him lovingly. It was from the account “bootina_j_dance.”

Hard to believe it’s been one whole year! Thank you for accepting me as I am and inviting me into your world. Love you SM, Griff! <3 #HappyAnniversary

Sasha swiped through the stack of pics, each one more sickening than the last: Boo resting her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder, then one of them kissing, then he was holding her piggyback. In each one she looked positively blissful.

It took all of her willpower to simply blank her screen instead of chucking the phone down the stairs. Sasha buried her head in her hands, shaking her head as she thought of how she had spent her night while the ex-girlfriend who shattered her heart enjoyed an anniversary date with someone she loved. This had to be rock bottom. Didn’t it?

For the first time, she desperately wanted to talk to someone about it, but aside from her and Boo, only Michelle knew the full extent of the situation, and Sasha knew it wouldn’t do her any good to rehash it with her. It would take too long to explain the whole thing to someone new, and there wasn’t anyone she grew up with she even talked to anymore, let alone anyone she would trust with this secret.

Then an interesting name popped into Sasha’s head. She’d seen the name on her Instagram feed earlier that week, so she searched for the post just to make sure - yes, three days ago at a rave in Brighton Beach. Maybe this person was still in the city. Sasha found the name in her contacts, not knowing if this was even the right number anymore, and took the leap of faith.

“Hello?” answered the voice after the second ring, cutting through a background of distant house music.

“Cozette? Hey, it’s Sasha, from California. We went to high schoo-”

“Sasha Torres?!? Oh my gosh, hi! It’s been so long! You’re still at Juilliard, right? How are things?”

“Oh, fine,” downgraded Sasha instinctually. “Things are great, I…”

Sasha squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. You called her for help, why are you deflecting? Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to finally open up.

“Actually, no, things aren’t great right now. I just got off a really bad date, and I’m locked out of my apartment, and maintenance can’t get here for another couple hours. I saw you were in New York and I was wondering-”

“Girl, of course, say no more. Where do you live?”

“Astoria.”

“Perfect, I’m over in Bed-Stuy right now. I’ll get a cab and be there in like 45 minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll text you my address and the code for the building door.”

“Are you safe right now? Do you need me to stay on the line till I get there?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll need that. The guy doesn’t know where I live, and the neighbors are all asleep by now.”

“Good. Call me if you start to feel unsafe.”

“I will. And Cozette?”

“Yeah?”

Sasha allowed herself a small, relieved smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.”

**********

Sasha kept her phone usage to a minimum as she waited for Cozette; she wanted to be attentive to her surroundings, which she knew she couldn’t be if she fell down a rabbit hole stalking Boo’s profile. She had lost track of time when her phone vibrated with a “here” text from Cozette - 2:47, she’d made good time. Sasha listened closely as the keypad beeped and the front door clicked open, followed by the quick pattering of heels up stairs.

The steps grew louder, soon reaching the third-floor landing, and Cozette Mancini stood before her, dressed confidently in a red topcoat, tight black sequined miniskirt over black tights, and a gray vintage Mickey Mouse t-shirt. Sasha stood to receive her old friend, who was on her in an instant with a reassuring hug.

“Hey Sasha,” greeted Cozette with a smile Sasha could hear in her voice. “It’s really good to see you again.”

“You too,” replied Sasha, the warmth of Cozette’s embrace bringing out a muted grin of her own. “I wish it was a different situation than this…”

“Never mind that, chica. A reunion is a reunion.”

“If you say so. I’m just glad you were still in town when I called.”

“Same, and just a few neighborhoods over, too.” Cozette stepped out of the hug and looked Sasha over. “Are you hurt? You’ve got a really gnarly bruise on your shoulder.”

“It looks worse than it is,” grimaced Sasha. “We were going at it pretty hard and he pushed me off his bed.”

“Yikes,” winced Cozette. “And you’re sure this guy has no way of finding you?”

Sasha nodded. “I gave him a fake name and I’ve already blocked his number. Worst comes to worst,” she explained, gesturing toward her hair, “I can change styles again and throw him off the scent.”

“I was gonna say,” affirmed Cozette, lifting her hands up in a frame, “if I hadn’t been looking I don’t think I would have recognized you.”

“That was the idea.”

“For what it’s worth, blonde looks good on you.”

“Good enough to drive Jimmy Stewart to obsession?”

“Totally.” Cozette gestured to the door. “So, what’s the story here? Lose your key?”

“You could say that,” answered Sasha sardonically, holding it out for Cozette to inspect the damage.

“Oh jeez. That’s a new one for me.”

“Same.” Sasha defeatedly plopped back into her corner. “Just one more thing gone wrong.”

Cozette took off her coat and sat down next to Sasha, who scooted over to make room. “The cherry on top of a shitty night, huh?”

“Try a shitty year,” scoffed Sasha.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t think I have the mental stamina to go through it all tonight.”

Cozette nodded and placed her hand on her friend’s good shoulder. “What can I do for you right now?”

“Honestly,” replied Sasha, “if I could just hear someone else talk. I need to get outside of myself.”

Cozette smiled. “I can do that.”

“Okay.” Sasha looked upon Cozette gratefully, her eyes eventually fixing on her t-shirt. “First question, what’s with the House of Mouse?”

“Funny story about that,” smirked Cozette. “I just got off a Disney cruise.”

Sasha chortled. “You paid to go on a Disney cruise?”

“Not exactly…”

“Shut up,” exclaimed Sasha with mouth agape. “You worked on a Disney cruise?!?”

“Entertainment cast member,” confirmed Cozette with a hand flourish and a head bow. “Just finished up a six-month contract in the Caribbean.”

“So what, you played princesses and got seasick for half a year?”

“Well, the Dramamine helped with the latter,” explained Cozette wryly. “But they’ve got so much going on aboard these ships that I was dancing and singing practically every day. Like each week there’s a big band night, and I get to dress as an old-time gangster and do a few tap routines.”

“All in between sessions posing with kids in colorful costumes?” prodded Sasha playfully. Cozette clicked her tongue and jammed it into her cheek.

“I did make a mean Jasmine by the end…”

“Hammer pants and all?”

“Can’t touch this,” sang Cozette as she shimmied in place, bringing both friends to laughter.

“Sounds like a ball,” said Sasha. “Pun intended.”

“It was, actually,” recalled Cozette serenely. “I met some really great people, the seas were beautiful, and the pay was shockingly good. I’m using the money to travel for two months - after this I’m headed up to Massachusetts to see Frankie, then I’m spending Christmas with Mel in Cali.”

“And after that?”

“I’ll have enough to go and immerse myself somewhere for a month before I go back to work. I’m thinking Lima.”

“Why Lima?”

Cozette shrugged. “It’s somewhere new. And I haven’t been to South America nearly as much as I’ve wanted to…”

So Sasha rested her head on Cozette’s shoulder and listened to her plans for Peru. As she drifted off to sleep, grateful for her friend’s company, she recalled the moments Cozette had been there for Ginny and Boo back in high school and realized it was finally her turn.

Chapter Text

Sasha only had vague, drowsy recollections of maintenance arriving and letting them in - Cozette said it had been around 4:30 - and of taking off her dress and crawling into bed. By the time she awoke at 11, she slipped on her bathrobe and found Cozette on the couch reading a Toni Morrison novel, a new set of keys to a brand-new lock sitting on the end table. They were both hungry for lunch and Sasha recommended a Salvadoran place she loved a few blocks away. It would be Sasha’s way of thanking Cozette for coming to her rescue.

By the time they sat down and the first tray of pupusas arrived, Sasha began to tell Cozette everything: her feelings for Boo, what they’d done the previous summer and how it ended, and her year of perpetually more dangerous one-night stands. Cozette let Sasha take her time, nodding along as she listened to how her friend had been trying and failing to leave her past behind.

The more Sasha opened up to Cozette, the more comfortable she felt. It went beyond just the catharsis of finally getting it off of her chest - she felt Cozette was the perfect person to share with: close enough to know the basics already, but not so steeped in Paradise lore that she reflexively picked a side. She knew Cozette would be fair to her while at the same time challenging her way of thinking, much as they had pushed each other to be better dancers during their days as studio rivals.

They had polished off a second round of pupusas before Sasha had finished, at which point Cozette collected her thoughts and offered her friend a sympathetic smile.

“You know, sometimes I wondered about you and Boo,” she began. “The way you acted around her and the way I’d see you look at her, it was different than the way you looked at anyone else.”

“Great,” spit out Sasha as she turned away and blushed. “How many other people noticed I was stupid in love with Boo? Was it always that obvious?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” assured Cozette. “It was subtle. The only way you would notice is if you knew what to look for.”

“And you knew what to look for?”

Cozette nodded. “When I was 13 we lived in Lagos, and there was this boy at my school, Akin. He had the biggest eyes and was already well-built for his age. I crushed on him for like half the year until he took me aside and said he didn’t feel the same way. I probably looked like a lost puppy following him around, but I had no idea until someone said something to me. And it was him of all people.”

“Not a fun feeling, right?” deadpanned Sasha.

“Definitely not.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, each lost in the memory of their first broken hearts.

“So what happened with Akin?” asked Sasha, genuinely curious.

“Well,” continued Cozette, this time with a genuine smile, “once that spell was broken I finally felt like I could be myself around him, and we actually became really good friends. My family left Lagos after that summer and we stayed in touch for a while, but it’s been years since I’ve heard from him.”

“I’m guessing that happened to you a lot growing up.”

“It did. With how often we moved, I’m lucky if I still have even one or two people from each place I’m still close with.”

“I think that would kill me,” lamented Sasha with a shake of her head. “Losing so many friends and feeling powerless to stop it…”

“I don’t see it that way,” countered Cozette. “Just because those friends aren’t in my life anymore doesn’t mean that they didn’t mean something to me. We all go through seasons of life, and some people are only meant to be in your life for a season. Sometimes it’s a long season, other times it’s a short one. But they were seasons I loved nonetheless.”

Sasha furrowed her brow, intrigued. “You really believe that?”

“I do, Sasha. When I look back on Akin and all of the others, I don’t see those as failed friendships. I see them as great friendships that lasted as long as they were meant to last.”

“See, you say that about people you only knew for a year or two,” rebutted Sasha. “Boo and I have known each other since kindergarten. You expect me to take 14 years and chalk it up as just a ‘season’?”

“Maybe.”

“How am I supposed to accept that?”

“I don’t know,” sympathized Cozette. “Only you know if you can or not. The way I see it, you and Boo were friends for a long time, but you spent half the time you knew her keeping this huge secret from her, wondering if you could ever be something more. Last summer you got your answer. Maybe that was your friendship’s natural end.”

“But I’ve spent a year trying to put it behind me,” lamented Sasha, “and nothing’s worked. What if I never get over her?”

Cozette put it bluntly. “What choice do you have? I know you feel like you’ve got nothing left to lose, but you do. You need to figure something out, Sasha, because you’re right, what you’re doing isn’t working. Last night it was a bruised shoulder - what if the next time is worse?”

Sasha felt like the baby antelope whose head Cozette had allegedly blown off, if Ginny’s old chestnut was to be believed. Once she got over the shock value, though, she realized this was a similar mercy killing. Pursing her lips, Sasha finally admitted defeat.

“Yeah, this isn’t working. So what should I do now?”

“Only you can answer that, Sasha. But we can try and find the answer together.”

Cozette reached her hand across the table and gave Sasha an empathetic squeeze. Sasha returned the squeeze and smiled appreciatively at her old sparring partner.

“This goes without saying,” concluded Sasha as the waiter brought their check and Sasha reached for her purse, “but you won’t mention any of this to Melanie, will you?”

“Of course not,” assured Cozette. “My lips are sealed.”

Sasha picked up on a slight drop in Cozette’s expression - her eyes seemed to dim and her jaw clenched. It was subtle, but Sasha had never before seen such a confident woman waver.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, never better.”

Sasha eyed her friend blankly. “Cozette, I just bared my soul to you. Tell me what’s up.”

Cozette smirked and gathered her thoughts, knowing she owed Sasha mutual honesty.

“Honestly, if we’re talking about seasons, I think ours might be ending too.”

Sasha raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“You and Mel?”

Cozette pursed her lips and nodded. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure I know. This is the first time I’ve even said it out loud.”

“Talk to me,” urged Sasha as they stood up and made for the door. “I’ve got all day.”

Sasha helped Cozette into her coat and they returned into the chilly December afternoon, the tables of their heart-to-heart turning.

**********

Cozette walked Sasha through her own predicament as the two made their way from Queens to Brooklyn. Melanie apparently wasn’t a fan of Cozette’s plan to spend a month alone in Lima instead of with her in L.A., especially after they had been apart for half a year during Cozette’s time on the cruise. (While Sasha was in Mel’s corner on this, she kept silent and let Cozette tell the tale uninterrupted.) Cozette had promised to make time for Mel after Lima…before she headed north and accepted a new Disney contract on their Alaskan ship. They had been at an impasse ever since.

They had reached Williamsburg by the time Cozette had said her piece, by which point both friends were emotionally fried. Needing a distraction, they popped into a movie theater and sat through the new Marvel release, Doctor Strange. Sasha didn’t follow the plot - Benedict Cumberbatch had magic wizard hands or something - but she was more than glad to turn off her brain at the behest of something big and loud.

When the movie let out, the two dancers gave into their urge to move their bodies and paid for an hour of time at the ice skating rink under the Brooklyn Bridge. Sasha was still a novice; ice skating had predictably been on Madam Fanny’s taboo list. Cozette, of course, was a natural, landing lutzes and axels as if she had been one of Michelle Trachtenberg’s Ice Princess rivals. The girl always brought out the competitive side in Sasha, but even she saw there was no challenging Cozette’s supremacy on the ice.

After splitting a pizza at Grimaldi’s, Sasha and Cozette finished the day on a bench at Main Street Park, sipping egg creams and watching Brooklynites enjoy the sights and sounds of the Christmas season.

“As if my personal life weren’t bad enough right now,” explained Sasha, “it’s even bleeding into my dancing. I feel like I’ve practically sleepwalked through these past few semesters.”

“Have your professors said anything?”

“That’s what’s maddening about it - I’m still damn good! Technically speaking I’m the best in my class, and if I put my nose to the grindstone I can probably graduate by the end of next summer. But at my assessments they keep telling me I’m going through the motions - my dancing is stilted, even robotic, and I can’t feel the music. Which is fine if you want to be a Rockette, but not if you expect to get offered by ABT.”

“So you could graduate early,” analyzed Cozette, “but you run the risk of getting the Warner Huntington treatment.”

“‘No honors, no girlfriend, no job offers,’” finished Sasha.

“‘As if!’” intoned Cozette, trying to cheer her friend up.

“That’s Clueless,” responded Sasha blankly.

“Oh, right,” grimaced Cozette. Sasha took a big slurp of her egg cream to cover for her friend’s pop culture faux pas.

“When did you first start dancing?” probed Sasha, looking to change the subject. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

“It had to be when I was 5,” recalled Cozette. “We lived in Kiev that year and my parents wanted to give me a taste of high culture that I could actually understand at that age, so ballet was a natural fit.”

“They take it seriously out there. Did you have some crazy intense instructor?”

“Russian. Straight from the depths of the Volga. She made Madam Fanny look like Mister Rogers.”

“I can’t even imagine,” chuckled Sasha.

“Once she realized she couldn’t break me the way she did the other kids,” continued Cozette after a big gulp of her drink, “I earned her begrudging respect and she took me under her wing. She showed me what an artform it really was, and I fell in love with it.”

Sasha nodded in understanding, the story a familiar one, before Cozette turned the question on its head. “What about you? You were really little when you started, right?”

“Yeah, I might have been 3? Honestly I don’t remember a time from before I was dancing, so it could have been earlier than that.”

“A true toddler in tiara!”

Sasha shook her head and smiled.

“It was all my dad. We had just moved to Paradise, and when he learned there was a ballet studio in town, he bought me a pair of slippers and signed me up for lessons that same day. He saw how quickly I took to it, so he practiced with me at home and got me one of those little kiddie barres - you know the little pink plastic ones you could jostle up and down? I think he loved that thing more than I did.”

Sasha stared off into the East River, lost in memory.

“He was never pushy about it, either; definitely not a stage parent. I think he just loved that I loved ballet like he did.”

“It sounds like he loved you, too,” noted Cozette.

“He did.” Sasha sniffled to keep her tears at bay, tossing back her final drops of egg cream to buy time to compose herself.

“Then around the time I went en pointe, things got bad at home. It was getting harder for Dad to hide who he really was, and my mom just wouldn’t have it. That’s when I started sneaking out to the studio at night, just to get away from their screaming. It became more of a home than home was.”

As Sasha continued, her posture began to straighten, her eyes coming into focus as she finally started to recognize something she had missed for years.

“When Dad finally left and Mom left me behind, the studio was the first place I went, because I knew Michelle would be there for me. Except for my boyfriend, everyone who helped me get through that time I knew from ballet. Life may have sucked everywhere else, but I always had my friends, and I always had the dance floor. And on that dance floor, I was untouchable.”

“Everything was beautiful at the ballet,” alluded Cozette.

“Exactly. It was my refuge. It was the one place I could go where I could forget about everything and just be the best.” Sasha shot Cozette a half-playful side-eye. “Until someone had to come around and steal my thunder.”

“Sorry, not sorry,” clapped back Cozette, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Sasha rolled her eyes and snickered. “But not even you could get to me when I was completely locked in. When I went up en pointe, it felt like I could rise above it all.”

“Does it still make you feel that way?” asked Cozette softly.

Sasha paused for a long time to really consider the thought.

“Not for a while…but it could again. I know it could.”

The way Cozette grinned at her answer made Sasha feel like she’d finally gotten it right. As she exhaled and reclined against the back of the bench, she knew it was time to recommit herself to the one thing she’d loved longer than Boo Jordan.

**********

“How long is the ride to Williamstown?” asked Sasha the next morning as Cozette packed the last of her clothes. They had made sure to grab Cozette’s bags from her hostel so she could stay one more night with Sasha in Astoria.

“Three hours, on the dot.” Cozette checked the time on her phone - about a quarter to 10. “There’s a bus there that leaves from Port Authority at 11, if I can make it on time.”

“Just remember to transfer from the N to the 7 at Queensboro Plaza and you’re golden.”

“Look at you, snapping off directions like a real New Yorker.”

“It’s what we do, dahhling,” crooned Sasha as she playfully examined her nails. “When the country folk come to town, we show them a time.”

“Well, consider this bumpkin thoroughly starstruck,” complimented Cozette, prompting Sasha to blush.

“After what we put each other through these past few days, it’s the least I could do.”

Cozette beamed and slung her backpack over her shoulder, while Sasha snagged her friend’s duffel bag and escorted her downstairs.

“It’s funny,” observed Cozette, “the whole thing with your professors saying you’re not putting enough passion into your dancing? Frankie’s getting the same spiel about his art.”

“So you’re saying ‘Cozette Mancini Helps You Find Yourself Over a Lost Weekend’ might get a sequel?”

“If his key breaks off trying to get into his dorm room, we’ll consider that a green light.”

“Would I get residuals?”

“I’ll throw you a couple points and some merchandising rights. Same deal Hepburn gets.”

“You’ve got a deal, Mr. Goldwyn.”

The two laughed as they reached the ground floor and stepped into the crisp Sunday morning glow. Sasha pointed Cozette in the direction of 30th Avenue, and suddenly it was time to part.

“I would say ‘you don’t know how much I needed this,’” assessed Sasha, “but I think you do.”

Cozette nodded and brought her friend in for a hug, which Sasha returned gratefully.

“Take care of yourself, Sasha. If you ever need to talk, you know how to find me.”

“That I do,” said Sasha with a cheeky grin. “Second star to the right, and straight on till morning.”

With that, Cozette gave her a wink, snagged her duffel, and turned to make her exit.

“Off to Neverland.”

Sasha waved and watched her old friend round the corner and out of sight. Then she ascended up her stairs and back into her apartment, ready for a peaceful Sunday. As she considered what to run through first for her class the next day, she caught a flash of something in the mirror above her dresser. Reaching her fingers through her hair, Sasha smiled as she noticed her black roots were starting to show through the blonde.

Welcome back, kid.