I was going to blow chunks all over the parquet flooring.

The air in the studio was a mix of nerves, excitement, and an overwhelming amount of hairspray. Juliette, Elodie, and I had clustered together in one corner of the room, stretching out our legs and rolling our shoulders. Other dancers who were performing in the recital had staked out around the room. None of them appeared as nervous as I felt.

"Breathe, Celeste," Juliette reminded me, her voice light as she reached over to tug playfully at my sleeve. "You're practically vibrating."

I managed to choke out a laugh, shaking out my hands. "I can't help it. What if it's not enough? What if the choreography falls flat?"

Elodie, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, glanced up with a reassuring smile. "It won't. You know that. The audience will love it. Besides, the only critic you really have to worry about is my mom, and she's probably already decided you're a genius."

The blunt English woman was difficult to please. I had only met her on one occasion and the whole time I wondered if she was capable of smiling. If she had high hopes for me then I supposed I would do fine.

Juliette reached over to squeeze my hand. "We've got this, Celeste. Stop overthinking it."

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting the background noise of the room ground me.

"Is it just your mom here, El?"

She was on the floor, stretching one arm across her head to reach her foot. "My father's back in the UK on business and couldn't make it. Not surprising though, I don't think he's seen me on stage since I was five." Her curious gaze flickered up at me. "What about you, Celeste?"

I knew where the question was stemming from, but I brushed it off and focused on stretching out my back. "My parents are here," I said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "They're meeting me for dinner afterward."

"And your housemates?" Elodie pressed.

There it was.

I hesitated, my fingers twisting in the fabric of my costume. "I'm not sure. I haven't really spoken to any of them besides Easton."

I didn't need to elaborate as to why—how staying with Elodie had been my way of avoiding Maverick. The night Miles had found me in the studio I had sent her a quick message, asking if I could stay over at her place for a little while. The excuse was that I needed to focus and the house full of men had been too rowdy as of late. Of course, from the unnatural glances they were giving me, I was sure that they were aware I was full of shit.

My heart tightened as I thought about the playboy that had managed to charm me into delusion. I hadn't responded to any of his messages or calls. Mostly because I had no idea what to say, but also because I was still embarrassed and hiding my tail between my legs. Still, part of me wondered if he would show up tonight.

"Celeste?"

I blinked, realizing one of the event coordinators was standing in front of me, clipboard in hand.

"You guys are up next," she said with a smile.

I gave her a wobbly smile as I rose to my feet and brushed invisible dust off my costume.

"Well," I said to the two women grinning back at me. "I guess it's showtime."

And then, we danced.

When the final note faded, the applause was immediate. It repaired something in me that I hadn't noticed was broken.

The night air was cool as I stepped out of the theater building with my parents. The scent of damp pavement mingled with the faint aroma of coffee drifting from a nearby café. My mom carried the bouquet they'd brought for me, a cluster of soft pink roses wrapped in delicate paper.

"You were incredible, sweetheart," my dad said, his voice warm with pride. His arm was around my shoulders as he pressed a kiss into my temple.

"Absolutely," my mom added, beaming. "Your choreography was stunning. I'm sure you caught the attention of some very important people in that audience."

She nudged me with a delicate elbow and I couldn't help but smile at the prospect. It would be a dream to secure a job right out of college. Double dream-worthy if it was in New York or LA.

"Thanks," I said, my cheeks warming under their praise.

As we walked down the steps, I spotted a group of familiar faces waiting near the sidewalk. My chest tightened as I recognized my housemates gathered in a cluster by a bench along the path.

Except for one.

Maverick wasn't there, and the hollow ache I'd been ignoring all night flared painfully in my chest. I forced a grin and returned their wave.

If he wanted to be there he would have been.

"We'll meet you at the car," my mom said, giving my hand a quick squeeze before leading my dad toward the parking lot. "Don't keep us waiting too long."

"I'm starving," he added with a grin, patting his belly through his dress shirt.

Eden broke away from the group first, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug that left me breathless.

"You were amazing!" she gushed, bouncing as she released me.

Lydia pulled me into––a much gentler–– one armed hug. "Absolutely stunning. I might need you to help me out with my choreography."

Warmth brushed over my cheeks again. "I'm sure it would be much more difficult to choreograph something on the ice."

She grinned at me, displaying her perfect top row of teeth. "After your performance tonight I'm sure you could manage it."

The others chimed in with their congratulations, their voices blending together in a blur of warmth and laughter.

It wasn't until Easton dragged me into a hug that I saw him.

Maverick stood apart from the group, a massive bouquet of red and white flowers in his hands. The soft light of the streetlamp caught on his face, casting shadows across the sharp lines of his jaw. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were locked on me, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

The others seemed to sense the shift and drifted away, their chatter fading as they gave us space. Eden shot me a quick wink before disappearing into the night, hand-in-hand with McKinley.

I approached Maverick slowly, the cool air brushing against my skin as the distance between us closed.

"You showed up," I whispered.

His lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. "Yeah. I did."

Before I could say anything else, he held out the bouquet. "These are for you."

I took them, the sweet scent of roses and lilies washing over me. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

Maverick shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders tense. "You haven't been coming home."

Home.

Without really noticing it, I guess that's what the Hockey House had come to be. It was only supposed to be a temporary thing. A place to rest my head until I could stand on my own again. But it had become so much more than that.

I drew my bottom lip into my mouth. "The girls and I were practicing so much. I thought it would make more sense if I––"

"Celeste," Maverick's whisky smooth voice had the rest of the sentence halted on my tongue. "I fucked up."

I blinked at him, heart hammering in my chest as I waited for him to continue.

His Adam's apple bobbed. "I didn't realize how much I cared about you until you weren't there anymore." He took a deep breath, his gaze steady on mine. "I didn't want to be anything like your sorry excuse of an ex––taking pieces of you without treasuring the rest. You're so much more than that."

There was a hushed silence between us. It was so quiet that the distant buzz of traffic was the only thing I heard. That and the sound of blood rushing to my ears.

Maverick inched closer. "I don't want to be that guy who pushes away the best thing that's ever happened to him."

"What about the NHL?"

"Fuck hockey," Maverick said with so much conviction that my eyes widened. "I don't care where I go or what I do, I just want to be with you. I want you to come back."

My throat tightened, and I looked down at the flowers in my hands, the soft petals brushing against my fingers. "I wasn't planning on staying away much longer," I admitted.

Before Maverick's confession I used Oliver as my excuse. And of course I missed my loud, orange fluff-ball. But I had missed the Falcons as well.

Relief flickered across his face, and he closed whatever distance was left between us, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. "I'm sorry, Celeste. I'm an idiot for not realizing sooner what you mean to me."

I peered up at him through my mascara slicked lashes, my heart hammering in my chest. "You really are an idiot," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips.

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, before his expression turned more serious. "So...can I make it up to you? Starting tonight?"

"How?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Let me join you and your parents for dinner," he said, his tone light but laced with sincerity.

My jaw went slack. "You want to meet my parents?"

"No better time than the present," he said with a grin. "Unless you don't think they'll like me."

I laughed, the sound bubbling up despite myself. "Oh, they'll like you. But don't say I didn't warn you if my dad starts asking about your intentions."

Maverick's grin widened, his eyes shining under the glow of the streetlamp. "Guess I'll leave out the details of our little arrangement at the beginning."

"That's probably for the best," I mused with a wide grin, gesturing toward the parking lot. "Come on, then. Let's see how you do under pressure."

Maverick's inked hand intertwined in mine. It took everything in me not to melt in a puddle right there on the concrete. "I think you'll be impressed, Twinkle Toes."

_ _ _ _ _

author's note:

One more chapter to go... (: