The following day is Tuesday, which means Annabeth heads to the studio after school.

Today's creative movement class is all practice for the recital routine. The recital is coming up in a few weeks and she's determined to make her students as prepared as possible. She's more than a little worried about another incident like last year, when Lucie started bawling onstage because she forgot the dance.

The recital routine is set to "Untouchable" by Taylor Swift and is all twirls and bounds and leaps. Annabeth came up with the choreography herself, dreaming up the perfect combinations of steps while she lay on the floor with the song playing, letting its wistfulness and yearning seep into her. Her favorite part of the dance comes at the end, when all the kids hold hands and spin in a circle, sinking to the ground as the last notes fade away.

"You guys are doing fantastic!" Annabeth says, clapping her hands as the kids help each other up from the floor. She presses pause on her phone to stop the music. "Chloeigh, I'd love it if you tried a little harder on your twirls, but other than that you're all doing amazing!"

She's learned that lots of smiling and enthusiasm are more encouraging than anything else, and sure enough, nine kids beam. Only Chloeigh stares at the floor, lip quivering.

Annabeth calls for a water break, but holds Chloeigh back, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Chloeigh's eyes well up with tears. "I get too dizzy when I twirl," she says, then promptly bursts out crying. Her mom would normally descend on Annabeth like a hawk, manicured nails like talons, but Jessica is too absorbed in her novel featuring a shirtless man on the cover to notice her daughter's hysterics.

Annabeth nods, gives Chloeigh's shoulder a squeeze. "Of course, honey." She sets down the clipboard in her arms and performs the little twirl on her tiptoes.

"You're just spinning too fast," Annabeth says, picking her clipboard off the floor. "Try spinning slowly. Imagine that you're a ballerina in a jewelry box."

"Okay." Chloeigh takes a breath and tries again. This time, she revolves slowly, with grace Annabeth hadn't known a four-year-old could possess.

"That was perfect!" Annabeth cries, and Chloeigh throws her head back, giggling.

"Why don't you go get some water," Annabeth says, and Chloeigh flounces to the cubbies at the back of the studio, no doubt planning to brag to the other kids that the teacher said her twirl was perfect.

A few minutes later, Annabeth gathers the kids in back in the center of the studio. She tries to get them to continue practicing, but all they want to do is talk.

"Can you do a pee-arette?" one of the little girls, Charlotte, asks. "I saw a lady on TV do it."

"A pirouette?" Annabeth asks.

Charlotte nods. "Yup, that's the one!"

"You should do it!" another kid says.

"Yeah!"

Annabeth frowns. "I don't know. We're supposed to be practicing…"

"Pleaseeeee?" Charlotte bats her eyelashes. "Pretty please?"

Annabeth sighs. She can't disappoint these kids; she loves them all more than anything, even Charlotte, the preschool diva who throws temper tantrums at least twice a day.

"Okay."

The kids all cheer, and she gets into fourth position. The motions are familiar, second nature, like singing an old favorite song. She rotates elegantly, back perfectly straight, and memories flood back to her.

That excitement when she first mastered her pirouette, the pure thrill that made her feel like she was running on clouds as she sprinted home to tell Percy. He was so impressed that he asked her to teach him. He never quite got the turn down, but his plié was solid.

Does he still know how to do it? Or has he forgotten? Did it fade away like their friendship had?

Annabeth does a little curtsy as the kids clap.

"That was so cool!" Charlotte says. "You're so cool, Annabeth!"

One of the little boys, Gale, looks at her with wide eyes, "Can we do that?"

"Not yet, but maybe someday." She stomps her foot. "Okay, now let's get back to practicing! Get in your places..."


Once the lesson is over (and the Piranhas have given her several disapproving looks) Annabeth packs up her bag and starts out of the studio. She's changed from her leotard and skirt into jeans, a soft zip-up hoodie.

She pops into the front office before leaving. Mellie, the studio head, is sitting inside, feet propped up on the desk as she writes in her notebook with glittery gel pens.

"Annabeth!" she cries. She's seven and a half months pregnant but seems to have a glow about her, even when she complains about swollen ankles and not being able to spend as much time at the studio. "You heading out?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted. Those kids are a handful."

"Better hurry," Mellie says, and a twinkle appears in her eye, "there's a boy waiting in the lobby for you."

"What?"

"Said he's your boyfriend? I told him to sit down and that you'd meet him soon."

Percy. "That sounds like Percy."

Mellie looks like she might burst. This excitement can't possibly be good for the baby. "He's a cute kid, Annabeth. And polite too. Way better than that dickwad you were with before."

Annabeth nods, bouncing on her toes. "Did he—"

Mellie shoos her away. "Go, your prince charming awaits."

Annabeth rolls her eyes but walks down the narrow hallway to the lobby. The space is brightly lit, windows along one side that look into the big studio, furnished with brightly colored chairs and couches.

Percy's sitting on one of the chairs, leg bouncing up and down restlessly. He jumps to his feet when Annabeth walks in.

"Hey."

He looks unfairly hot, dark hair ruffled, so stupidly beautiful. She could just fall against him and melt right into his chest, feel the warmth of a person who knows so many of your secrets and knows you well enough to figure out the rest of them. Percy's so ridiculously—

Shit, she must be way more tired than she thought she was for thinking that.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Percy rubs the back of his neck. "I was kind of planning on surprising you."

She pushes the door open and they step outside. The air is cold, and she shivers, tugging on her sweatshirt drawstrings.

"I didn't realize you still went here," Percy says as they walk towards the parking lot. "I thought you quit ballet."

"Oh, I don't dance anymore. I'm an instructor now, and I teach a creative movement class to a bunch of little kids."

"That's pretty cool."

"Yeah."

Annabeth slides into the driver's seat of her car. Instead of getting into his own car, Percy leans against the door, arms crossed over his chest, that shit-eating grin on his face.

Annabeth frowns. "Are you going to tell me what your little surprise is or just keep leaning against my car like I'll think it's sexy or something?"

"See, you say that, but I think you do think it's sexy."

She rolls her eyes, a little pissed off because he's totally right.

"The point of a surprise, Chase, is that it's a surprise."

"You could've given me a heads up," she scoffs.

"That sort of defeats the purpose."

She sticks her key into the ignition, starts up the engine. She waits expectantly.

Percy clears his throat, shuffles his feet. Then he says: "So, I'm gonna take you out to dinner."

She laughs incredulously. Is he trying to be nice? Get one over her? This sounds like a date, which she's pretty sure would go against the contract. "Can I ask why?"

"Am I not allowed to take my girlfriend out because I want to?"

"I'm your fake girlfriend. And no."

"Fine, I overheard Luke making plans with Drew for the Italian restaurant on Main Street." He runs a hand through his hair and drags a finger through the cold fog on her window, tracing out squiggly lines. When she doesn't reply, he sighs. "Will you go with me or not?"

She finds herself smiling. It's clearly because she's excited for another chance to watch that envious scowl spread across Luke's face at the sight of her being all couple-like with Percy. Not for other reasons, reasons that might go against the contract. Never for other reasons.

"Let's do it," she says, and when Percy's whole face lights up, she ignores the way her heart flutters.