Page 161 of The Failed Audition

Taken.It’s official.

John acknowledges Timo with the roll of his eyes. “All true except the old man,kid.” He stands up straighter and kisses Timo in hello.

And then Timo nods to me. “Killed it, Thora James!” He squeezes my shoulder and then give his brother a thumbs-up.

Nikolai is having a hard time not smiling too. This may be the first time where we’re all happy together, a good day all around.

I’m about to say thanks to Timo when the chanting suddenly begins. “God of Russia! God of Russia!”

The circle is starting to form righthere.At the bar. The people create a semi-open space where Timo, John, me, and Nikolai reside.

John groans. “This is my stool.” He points at the one healwayssits at. “This stupidity can’t happen atmyfucking stool.”

“You love it, John,” Camila retorts. “And technically this is happening at my bar. And I say,proceed.” She waves Nikolai on, who’s watching me, waiting for me. He takes a couple steps into the middle of the semi-circle, and he begins to unbutton his black shirt.

People holler, excited that his after-show is finally beginning.

I prepared for this tonight, even going as far to wear spandex shorts underneath my aquamarine dress. Maybe he realizes this.Don’t back down now.

I won’t.

I don’t want to.

I grip the bar behind me, my back digging into it, and then I raise my hand, our eyes never drifting apart. I say, “Choose me.”

His lips rise, and the girls let out a series ofawwwws. He removes his shirt fully, his body chiseled, sculpted—familiar.

He reaches me, lifting me onto the bar so that our lips are parallel. My heart hammers, my pulse throbbing.

A breath away, he whispers, “Every day.”

The hot kiss burns my skin, and I accidentally knock over one of the celebratory shots.

Every day, he chooses me.It rings in my ears.

When he parts, he turns to the crowd and tells them exactly what we’ll be doing. A one-handed handstand competition. Iwatch him climb onto the bar, standing, towering above us all. And extends his arm, for me to take his hand.

I do, and he pulls me swiftly to my feet.

His gaze flies across my features. “Your eyes are black.”

“They’re always like that…” I lose my thoughts at the devilish smile he wears, the red strobe lights bathing us in the hue.

“You’re ready,” he states, reading me well.

I nod.

And we split apart. We’re doing thisonthe bar. For the entire club to see. The crowd—it’s larger than ever before, pushing up to the lip of the bar, and John still has his stool, Timo next to him.

You can do this, Thora James.

“On the count of three,” Nikolai calls out.

“One!” the club yells.

“Two!”

I inhale.

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