Bulletproof by Melissa Pearl Read Free Book Online

let go, but I couldn’t. Things changed eight years ago, and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to dance like I used to.
     
    “Beautiful arabesque, Morgan.” My dance teacher applauded. “Nice extension.”
    I grinned as I lowered my leg and spun into a double pirouette, feeling an explosion of energy run through me. My arms spread wide on my finishing position, breaths punching past my smile.
    I felt like I had wings and could soar right off the stage.
    Ms. Finnermore’s voice brought me back to reality.
    “Morgan, you are a delight. I can’t believe you choreographed that whole piece on your own. You will do just fine at your exam on Saturday.”
    “Thank you.” I tucked a curl behind my ear, biting my lip.
    “Don’t be nervous. There’s something about the way you dance that moves people. It’s like you let every emotion you feel flow out of you in a burst of energy. You’re only thirteen. Imagine what you’ll do as an adult.”
    I smiled, basking in her praise.
    “I know it’s still early days, but you should start thinking about where you want to study dance after high school...or if you’re open to it, we could look into some performing arts high schools.”
    My stomach danced a crazy jig, excitement making me lightheaded.
    “I’ll talk to my parents.”
    Ms. Finnermore patted me on the shoulder. “Tell them they can call me to chat at any time.”
    I skipped home that day...actually, I think I flew.
     
    But the week before my fourteenth birthday, my wings were clipped, those school applications were forgotten, and I’d built that dam as fast I could.
    I blinked against the memory, focusing back on Isabella’s beaming smile as she finished the song with a series of chaînés.
    I stood back and watched her, clapping loudly as Rihanna’s voice faded away.
    “Nice.”
    “You like it?”
    “Definitely. Great moves,” I puffed.
    “I’m gonna finish with a canon.”
    “Oh, so this is a piece for the show?”
    “Uh-huh.” She nodded, running over to the stereo to pause the music blasting over our conversation. “It’s our big, final number for this week’s episode.”
    “Cool.” I grinned. “I really like your style; it’s an edgy blend of hip hop, contemporary...classical. I feel like it’s got a taste of everything. Did you start with ballet?”
    “When I was three years old.” She chuckled. “My grandmother used to own a dance studio. I’d spend so much time there. She bought me my first pair of slippers for my third birthday, and I was the happiest kid on the planet.” Her sparkling smile faded. “She passed away a few years ago and man, I just wanted to give up. She’d been my inspiration for everything I tried. She was the one who encouraged me to study a whole bunch of different styles. I just couldn’t imagine dancing without her there to watch, but my husband, Dean, told me if I quit, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.” She shrugged. “He was right.”
    My throat burned as I listened to her, hating how much the words resonated with me. Where was my Dean? Why hadn’t anyone told me not to quit?
    It was too late now. I couldn’t.
    I’d never dance like I did before. It hurt too much.
    Isabella twirled back to the stereo and pressed play again, running to the center of the room and resetting her stance as “Mmm Yeah” by Adam Mahone and Pitbull began playing. I clicked my fingers in time with her and watched in the mirror as she slunk across the room. Once again, I followed each of her moves, slipping up every now and then, but catching on easily.
    I couldn’t believe how quickly it all came back to me. My hips swayed, my feet moved, and I grinned as I dipped to the floor and back up again, sliding into a set of robotic moves that were tight and sharp.
    The song came to a finish and I clapped.
    “I love that one.”
    Isabella nodded. “Thank you. It’s actually a piece for the show. The guys are doing a response dance to the girls.”
    “And ‘Please