“I want to be kissed by him!” I exclaimed, and then flushed when the snowy-haired woman across from us looked over at me. “I do. It’s just . . . I don’t have a lot of experience.”
Teresa’s eyes widened like blue saucers. “Are you—?”
“No. I’m not a virgin,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ve only been in one relationship.”
“That guy was a dick,” Avery said.
“Yeah, I know that, but there wasn’t anyone before that? After him?” Teresa asked.
I shook my head. “It’s not easy for me . . .” I trailed off as I scooped up a huge piece of omelet. What was I about to say to them? That it wasn’t easy because I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the way I looked?
God, that sounded lame when you said it out loud. Hell, I hadn’t been exactly comfortable before everything. Would they truly understand that? Teresa and Avery were very pretty women, beautiful in their own ways.
“I just suck at the whole dating thing,” I continued. “I have really bad taste in guys. I mean, I’m not saying Grady is bad. It’s just that . . . I don’t know what I’m saying. Please ignore me.”
Teresa glanced over at Avery and then leaned forward as far as her belly would allow, which wasn’t far at all. “We all sucked at dating. Especially Avery.”
“True,” she said happily, slicing off another section of meat. “There are times when I look back, I’m still shocked that Cam and I got together. I was . . . well, I was totally closed off to the idea of dating anyone. He was just determined to change that.”
She leaned against the seat, her hand going back to her belly. “You know, I don’t think I ever told you this, but the guy I dated all the way back in high school was a real dickhead. He hit me.”
I nearly dropped my fork. She hadn’t told me that. “I didn’t know.”
“And let’s just say, when Cam found out, things went down shit creek with no paddle. But the point is, I’ve had crappy taste in guys too. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, especially not when you’ve recognized you had that issue—had as in past tense. And it’s okay if you turned your head when Grady was about to kiss you. Maybe you’re just not ready for the relationship to get to that level.”
Nodding slowly, I poked at what was left of my omelet. I wasn’t nineteen anymore. I was twenty-six, four years from thirty. So when in the holy hell would I be ready? At exactly what point would I be . . . be normal?
Thank God the conversation moved away from me, and they started talking about their desires to offer their own dance classes. I hated feeling this way—acknowledging that, at times, I had such little confidence in myself. Embarrassing wasn’t even the word for it. No one liked a woman who looked in a mirror and didn’t love what she saw.
Which was so damn ridiculous if you thought about it.
Pulling a mushroom out of the omelet with my fork, irritation pricked at me. I remembered when Abby had first reconnected with Colton and she’d been so uncomfortable with herself. The mere idea of becoming intimate with him terrified her and she’d been embarrassed to even admit she felt that way. What had I said to her? That not having the greatest confidence didn’t make her any less of a person or something to feel bad about?
It made her normal, average even, because the average woman out there didn’t look at herself every day and say “damn, I’m amazing.” Everyone had moments when they doubted themselves and had trouble looking at their reflections for reasons that went beyond the physical.
I’d always felt that being told you should be more confident was like getting slapped in the face. How was being told that supposed to help you feel better?
I needed to cut myself a break. Seriously.
Shoving the mushroom and another chunk of omelet in my mouth, my ears perked up when I heard Avery say, “We would just need the space for a studio. Honestly, at this point, we’d just need a large room, but every place I’d looked at in town needed a lot of work and the rents were ridiculous.”
“What are you guys talking about?” I asked.
Teresa was toying with a napkin, folding it into a tiny square as she said, “You know how Avery and I have been wanting to open up our own dance studio, starting small with just offering a few classes since I’m obviously out of commission for a while.” She patted her belly. “So we just need a space, but what’s available in town is ridiculous.”
“It’s either too big or too small,” Avery confirmed. “And almost always overpriced for the kind of work required to convert the room into an appropriate studio.”
An idea hit me, and I couldn’t believe I had never thought of it before, because I had heard them talk about fulfilling their dreams to start up their own dance company. Then again, I’d never been in this position until now.
“We have quite a bit of space available at the Academy, on the first and second floors, that we’re currently looking at renting out,” I explained, looking between the two. “Most of the space is completely empty. Would obviously need something work to make it ready for a studio, but I know my father wants to expand the kind of services we offer. I know you guys are looking at doing your own thing, but—”
“We’d eventually love to do our own thing, but we know we don’t have the type of capital or reputation right now,” Avery said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Partnering with an organization like the Lima Academy . . .”