7
Angelina
The casting list for the faculty show is posted outside the auditorium. All the dance students are gathered there when I arrive, my six foot five shadow ambling behind me.
He took me out to dinner and slept in my bed last night. He’s acting like my boyfriend, and it feels too good to tell him to quit.
Even though I know it’s going to end.
He knows it, too. He’s been quiet—not exactly brooding, but thoughtful. The line between his brows hasn’t gone away since dinner last night. I’m a coward, because I haven’t had the will to broach the subject of us.
Somehow, I know that tonight he’ll be back to sleeping on the couch. And that thought causes an ache right behind my breastbone. Even worse is the thought that at the end of two weeks, he’ll leave.
Even now he hangs back, givi
