Free The Love Square by Jessica Calla Page A

yelled out encouragement, advice, and obscenities.
    “You go, girl.”
    “Find another man, honey.”
    “You need a date, sweetheart? I’ll do you good.”
    “Jesus loves you, little lady.”
    I really hate people , she thought, calming down as she made her way to her building and up to her tiny office on the twenty-seventh floor. She sat at her desk and unloaded her bag, promising herself she would find the right guy and she wouldn’t let him tell her no. She was worthy of love, dammit, and she would find it.
    She knew just where to start. She called Penny, a serial dater with the know-how she needed, and asked her to create an online dating profile. By the end of the day, Jenna had received five messages.
    She picked the most interesting one—Ken, thirty-two, single, stockbroker, Manhattan, nonsmoker—and sent him an email. By the time she left work to go to the dance studio, she and Ken had set a date for lunch the next day. Her first real date in over a year.
    She was young and somewhat normal, and pretty enough that she should be able to spark the interest of someone. I am worthy of love, so what is the problem?
    Maybe Penny and Scott were right—she spent too much time with Alex. They’d warned her if she didn’t watch out, she’d end up a single, middle-aged woman, letting Alex mooch breakfast from her after his one-night stands. Jenna hadn’t listened because she didn’t care and because she loved her time with Alex. That big, stupid jerk.
    After work, Jenna sprinted to the train, leaping onto the last car and rushing to the only open seat. Her bag vibrated, and she dug out her phone. Alex wanted to go to dinner. She typed No, busy , and threw the phone back in her bag.
    When the train stopped, Jenna did the mad dash to the studio, changed into her dancewear, and gave an inspiring pep talk to her unmotivated at-risk teenagers. She paced the length of the room as the girls stretched at the barre and rolled their shoulders, loosening up for class.
    “Girls,” she started, “each and every one of you in this room is so special. You all have something to offer this world. Never let anyone make you feel otherwise. You are strong, you are smart, and you are perfectly imperfect. People out there,” she said, pointing toward the street, “will try and break you down, make you doubt yourself, try to get you to be weak in mind and spirit, but you stay strong. Believe in yourself, believe in your dreams, stay focused, and make them happen.”
    The girls watched her, stunned. Hopefully, they would think on her words.
    Jenna listened to her own advice and channeled all her energy into teaching class. Ever since her first ballet class at age seven, she’d felt most at home in the dance studio. The wooden floors and mirrors put her at peace more than her real home ever did. The music filled her heart, and the work her body did heightened her senses and awareness.
    Here, Jenna exercised complete control. The walls engulfed her like the arms of a mother—inspiring, challenging, comforting, praising. The mirror reflected everything she wanted to become, everything she had the ability to achieve. The girls she taught lived lives way more difficult than she had. She hoped they too could take solace within the studio.
    After her class cleared the room, Scott joined Jenna for their best, most intense rehearsal yet for nationals. They danced their tango perfectly, and every other dance progressed on schedule.
    Satisfied with herself for turning such a downer morning into such a kickass evening, Jenna arrived at her apartment building a little after eleven and bounded up the stairs as if she hadn’t just worked out for hours. She opened the door to her dark, quiet apartment and instantly knew Alex had been there when she noticed his coffee mug, which she had washed and put away that morning, back in the sink. She gave the dirty mug the finger and decided not to touch it and be poisoned with his rejection after such a