“You brought Eli with you to my party.”
“No, as I said, I met himatyour party.”
Her face was scrunched up. “That can’t be right. He stayed in the kitchen with you all evening. That I remember.”
“Yes. Because we hit it off.”
“Because you hit it off?”
“Why are you repeating what I’m saying?”
“Because you’re not making any sense.”
“Yes”—quick growl of frustration—“he stayed in the kitchen with me because we liked each other right away.”
“Okay,” she patronized me, scowling.
“People do that.”
“Who? What people?”
“Just because it’s never happened to—”
“Did you blow him in my bathroom?”
“No, I didn’t blow him in your—it was just that…it was meant to be.”
“Aww, sweet,” she placated me. “So yeah, he’s your boyfriend, which is what I said back when we were young and this conversation started.”
“I just want things to be clear,” I said lamely, because now, of course, it seemed stupid to have argued with her.
“Fine. We’re clear. Eli is your boyfriend.”
“We’re dating.”
She rolled her eyes. “If you’re dating, then—you know what? I don’t even care anymore. What I do care about is you staying here, with me and Maven, to teach and coordinate this outreach program to bring dance to the streets.”
“Dance to the streets? That’s the tagline?”
“At the moment, yes.”
“And what are you calling it?”
“I have no idea. Something with a pointe shoe.”
“No, don’t do that or the boys won’t come.”
“See? You’re helping already.”
“You need a better tagline,” I suggested. “And maybe some new marketing.”
“Agreed.”
“Plus, marketing people.”
“I was thinking we’d talk to the mayor’s wife.”
“You meanIwould talk to the mayor’s wife.”