Page 35 of Devil's Thirst

“Crap, didn’t see you. Sorry!” Kennedy, a girl with noticeably more cleavage than your average ballerina, stops at the closest mirror and checks her makeup. “The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen is out front watching rehearsal. Pete’s talking to him now, but if he’s still there when I go back out, I’m so getting a piece.” She tugs at her boobs to make sure they’re amply displayed at the top of her corseted tutu, then runs back out of the room.

Hazel and I exchange a wide-eyed stare, then burst into laughter.

“What was that all about?” I ask, not expecting an answer.

“Maybe a producer?”

I shrug. “Not sure, but I have to admit, she’s got me curious.”

“Same, girl. Let’s get these piles in separate bags, then go have a look.”

A few minutes later, we’ve cleaned up the scraps and are making our way toward the stage. When we peer out from behind the curtain, I see Isaac standing in the aisle talking to our director. And they’re not alone. Kennedy has joined them and is laughing flirtatiously with her hand resting on Isaac’s arm. He’s smiling down at her. I’ve never seen him smile like that—so devilish yet charming.

I feel a chaotic impulse to do something. To scream or run and hide, maybe both. Anything to stop the cavernous ache from prying my chest wide open.

God, Ihatethis.

I hate that she’s everything I’m not—bubbly and outgoing and inviting. I hate how jealous I feel. I hate that I can’t simply be her. That I couldn’t have had normal parents with normal hobbies who didn’t make life hell for me, even after their deaths.

“Okay, she wasn’t wrong. That man is scrumptious,” Hazel says under her breath, eyes still glued to Isaac.

And I am nobody.

No life. No purpose beyond dancing.

Here I was, worrying about keeping Isaac at a distance as though there’s any real threat of him sticking around. How delusional am I? A man as enigmatic as him will get bored of me in no time. He won’t want my hot mess express, and I certainly shouldn’t want him for a myriad of reasons.

That’s quite the shift from wanting to keep him at arm’s length.

It’s the truth, though. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking entertaining the possibility of a relationship with him. It was never going to happen.

A hailstorm of shame, regret, frustration, and pain pummels my insides. I want to lash out to keep the horrible feelings at bay even though this is for the best. Let him flirt. Let him find someone else who’s much more likely to satisfy his needs. He’s bound to be disappointed in me eventually—ending things now will save us both the trouble of an awkward breakup.

In fact, I’ll get the ball rolling. Why delay the inevitable?

I fight the tears burning the backs of my eyes and cross the stage to where Andrey is talking to another cast member. He’s a highly celebrated dancer from Russia, though he’s been in the States long enough that he only has the hint of an accent. His technique is flawless. I’ve been incredibly lucky to work with him as my co-lead in this production. But right now, I only have one use for him.

“Andrey, sorry to interrupt,” I say with an apologetic smile.

“No problem, we’re pretty much done here.” He nods at the other male dancer, who says his goodbyes and heads back to the men’s dressing room.

“I can’t shake the feeling that my angel lift timing is off in the diamond scene. Do you have a minute to run through it with me before we go?”

“Of course. Do you need the music?”

“No. I think it would be helpful without.”

He nods, then pulls me close. “We take it from the cabriole.”

Ballet sculpts the body in muscle like no other pursuit. Andrey feels like he could be carved from stone, yet I’ve never felt any sexual awareness around him until now. Until our bodies connect within view of a man whose scalding stare sears my back. I don’t have to see Isaac to sense his fury.

Nerves electrify my skin as we start to move.

I know what he’s seeing. I’ve specifically chosen the most intimate dance Andrey and I perform in the entire production—the pinnacle moment when two ill-fated lovers embrace the emotions felt for one another. The choreography is breathtaking—exquisitely beautiful yet tragic.

Except my own emotions are getting in the way.

This doesn’t feel like I’d hoped. I don’t feel relieved.

---