Save the Last Dance by Fiona Harper

you to be a prima ballerina?’
    Oh, that question was easy. So easy she let out a little dry laugh. ‘Everyone!’
    Finn laughed, too. And when he realised she wasn’t joking, he stopped.
    â€˜Ever since I put on my first pair of ballet shoes, people watched me closely,’ she said. ‘They watched, they waited, trying to see if I had the same gift as my mother. It pleased everyone—especially her—that I did. She died when I was eight and afterwards I felt it connected me to her. It felt as if I was talking to her when I was dancing.’ She wrinkled her nose and allowed herself to look at him more fully. ‘That sounds silly, doesn’t it?’
    â€˜No.’ Finn looked back at her, the most serious she’d ever seen him. ‘It sounds as if you were a little girl who missed her mother.’
    Strangely, that thought made Allegra smile. Finn had such a clear, practical way of saying things. No oblique hints, no subtext. He knew what he wanted to say and he said it. But he didn’t ramble or stutter. It was rather impressive.
    She frowned as she tried to do the same—tried to put clear words to the half-acknowledged feelings that had been weighing her down for so long.
    â€˜I grew up believing ballet was what I loved more than anything, but I think I confused it with the memory of my mother. Now I’m not sure if I ever loved it at all. It asks too much. More than I have to give.’
    She stopped talking, waited for the bottom to fall out of the universe at her admission, but in the breathless seconds that followed nothing happened. The planet remained on its axis. There were no mighty heaven-rending explosions. All she could hear was the shuffle of the surf against the shore and the crackle of the fire. And if Finn was shocked at her outburst, he was hiding it very well.
    Allegra felt a huge weight lift off her.
    There. She’d finally said it. And it had been so easy.
    â€˜I always thought I had chosen ballet but, looking back, I can see my path was chosen for me. It was my mother’s dream, not mine. But I wore it with pride, just like the sapphire brooch she left me.’ She closed her eyes before she said the rest. ‘I feel so ungrateful, because I know there are hundreds of dancers who’d kill for my life. It’s horrible to be blessed with a gift you don’t really want but have the responsibility of living up to.’
    Finn’s voice was soft and warm in the darkness. ‘Give it up. Find something you’re passionate about. Life’s too short, Allegra.’
    She opened her lids and stared at him long and hard. He was serious, wasn’t he? She swallowed. Even a week ago, if someone had said that to her she’d have laughed at the impossibility of it. Right now, she wasn’t even smiling.
    Could she? Could she walk away and be free?
    She didn’t know. Wasn’t sure she had the strength. It was easy for someone like Finn to say such a thing.
    She rolled onto her left side and faced him, mirrored his position with her head propped on her hand. ‘I’m not like you,’ she said softly. ‘I wish I was, though.’
    Finn grinned at her. ‘You wish you were twice your current weight, widely acknowledged to be slightly bonkers and in need of a good shave?’
    Allegra grinned back. ‘No,’ she said, scolding him good-naturedly. ‘I mean it would be nice to be spur-of-the-moment, spontaneous…creative.’
    Finn looked shocked. ‘You’re a ballet dancer! Of course you’re creative!’
    She shook her head. ‘I don’t make up the moves. I just dance them. I don’t have the luxury of choosing my steps. I just follow instructions.’
    Finn pressed his lips into a grudging smile. ‘Nah, don’t buy it. I’ve seen you dance.’ His gaze shifted to the starry sky again as he pulled the memory from its filing place, and then he looked back