Page 152 of The Failed Audition

I open my mouth to reply, but someone in my peripheral catches my attention. Shay adjusts his duffel bag on his shoulder. It’s not a gym bag but his luggage.He’s leaving.I quickly stand as he approaches.

“I came to say goodbye.” His eyes cautiously flicker to Nikolai behind me. A lot of us went to Club Zero a couple days ago for happy hour, including Nikolai and Shay, and the uncomfortable tension between them never dissolved. It is what it is, I guess. I can’t make two people like each other.

Nikolai’s hand brushes my hip before he gives us space, returning to the red silk.

“When’s your flight?” I ask.

“At four,” he tells me. “They’re sending all of us to Montreal for training first, and then they’ll start staging the show.”

It sounds like the start of an adventure. I smile, recognizing that I’ve been on one for a long while. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s something new.”

“No more same-old-same-old.”

He laughs and stares up at the ceiling, as though a higher power changed his life path. Maybe fate, luck—or him. His choice. He took the risk. That’s all Shay.

I hug him, standing on my toes to wrap my arms fully around his shoulders.

He hugs me tighter with one arm. And he whispers, “Be happy, okay?”

My heart clenches, and I look up.

“I know you’ll be safe.” He nods, accepting this. “So be happy for me.”

I smile. “I already am.”

He kisses my cheek, and we let each other go. I watch him head out the exit where he came from. I know we’ll see each other again. Sometime. In the faraway future.

This is the bittersweet portion of my life, but I’m happy. For each of us choosing the better life, even if it was a harder road to take.

Nikolai squeezes my shoulders. “He’ll be okay.”

“I know,” I say, spinning around to face him. “Which part were we at?”

“The part where I take your clothes off.” He’s being serious, and he’s also right. My pulse races as his eyes tear through me.

I think he’s already mentally ripped part of my costume off.

A girl shrieks. Our head whips towards the trapeze, the group of artists excitedly jump up and down with a magazine in their hand. I squint at the title from afar.Celebrity Crush, a tabloid.

“Who’s pregnant?!” Timo calls.

The girl gleefully bounces. “They’re coming here!”

“What?” I say aloud.

Every girl speaks at once and I barely uncover the names in their enthusiasm:Ryke MeadowsandDaisy Calloway.The reality stars ofPrincesses of Philly. A famous family. Famous couple. They’re seeing Amour next week.

My nerves shoot up. “Dear God…” I whisper aloud, on accident.

“What happened to them being in Costa Rica?!” Timo shouts, interested in the family like his little sister.

“They’re on route there afterwards,” is the reply from about three girls.

I fixate on the simple fact that famous people will be watching the premiere of the show. Add in my parents and the directors of Amour—the pressure keeps mounting.

Nikolai’s thumb skims my neck. “You can’t distinguish faces in the audience,” he reminds me. “You’ll be fine.”

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