from the ER behind my friends. Yay me. The scorpion bite wasn’t all I was
right about tonight. Forget barre exercises at the prestigious Manhattan Ballet Conservatory
summer intensive program. Or even yoga exercises at one of the little New Age
shops lining the streets of Sedona. The next few months would be spent doing PT
exercises on the long road to recovery.
If I was lucky.
I didn’t even know how I hurt it, but the doctor diagnosed
it as chondromalacia, which is basically just a fancy name for when the knee
cap rubs up against the thigh bone instead of gliding smoothly against it,
roughening the cartilage underneath in the process. Freak accident? Repetitive
stress injury? Who knows? Not that it mattered. Serious dance careers have been
over before they even began for much, much less.
Shit.
“Dani!”
For the second time today, a guy blocked my path as Craig’s
unmistakable voice crashed my pity party.
Er, make that the first time today. If the clock above the
registration desk was to be believed, it was nearly three AM.
Tomorrow already. My birthday.
“Uh, hi.” Wow, when did I become such a sparkling
conversationalist?
He rushed over and enveloped his arms around me. “Are you
okay?”
The wrap on my knee and crutches under my armpits should
have been his first clue. But even though I’m fluent in sarcasm, I decided to
play it straight this once. “It hurts,” I said with a shrug.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to coordinate my tux to your
crutches,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I guess I never got
around to asking you, did I?” He shot me a sheepish grin. “Will you go to prom
with me?”
Good thing I had the crutches to prop me up, because I
nearly fell over from the shock. “But what about Amber Alexander?”
“The doctors said she’ll be okay. We’re just going to film
some scenes without her for the next few days, and then she’ll be back at it
next week, so you don’t need to worry about her.” He smiled. “You saved her
life.”
“Yeah.”
No wonder painkiller abuse was so rampant. I must have only
imagined he’d asked me to prom. It was nice while it lasted.
“So, you never answered,” he said. “Will you go with me?”
The Vicodin was definitely causing hallucinations. “To
prom?”
Craig nodded, his bright blue eyes silently pleading with me
to answer. I felt a hot flush in my cheeks.
“But I thought you liked Amber.”
“As a friend.”
“You kissed her.”
He laughed. “It’s called acting.”
“That’s not what the L.A. Informer said.”
He laid his hands on my shoulder and held me an arm’s length
apart. “Do you really believe everything you read in the tabloids?”
“But Hadley said--”
“Oh, come on,” Maya said. (I didn’t even realize she was
standing right there.) “Just answer him already!”
Before I could respond, Craig’s mouth was on mine. Kissing
me. Slowly at first, then with more urgency. Tingles danced throughout my body
as I kissed him back.
Finally he pulled away. “ That wasn’t acting,” he whispered. “Happy
birthday, Dani.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The adventures continue in the Dani Spevak Mystery Series
– Codename:
Dancer, Pointe of No Return (June 2012), and Pas De Death (2013). This short story
stands alone and can be read in any order, although chronologically it is #2.5. J
***
After writing her first manuscript (which she now realizes
was blatant Nancy Drew fanfic) at the ripe old age of nine, Amanda Brice took a
nearly twenty-year hiatus before returning to the craft. She is a two-time
finalist for the Golden Heart® award, and is president of Washington Romance
Writers. An attorney by day, Amanda is also a popular speaker on the writing
conference circuit with her copyright law workshops. For more information,
please visit www.amandabrice.net.
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The Vanishing Spring
By
Carey