Page 45 of The Failed Audition

I approach, wobbling in my heels. His eyes flit to them once.

For some reason, I decide to speak first, “Do you need…a hug?” I internally cringe at how lame that probably seemed.

The corner of his lip tics upward, barely. “No, but I have to make one more pit stop. I’m not leaving him with my cousins.”

I swallow my uncertainty. “I can wait here if you want.”

“I don’t want that,” he tells me. “I’d rather you join me. Don’t ask me why.” He shakes his head a couple times. “Because I still don’t have an answer.”

Part of me questions whether he sees me as a sibling. Like another Timo and Katya and Luka to fret over. It worries me. Because in no way do I want to saddle this guy with more stress. That’s not my intention by staying in Vegas. If that’s the case, I can step out of his world.

“Your eyes are black,” he notes, his lips downturned. “If you want to stay—”

“Do you think of me as a sister?” I suddenly ask. “Is that why I’m here? I mean, here, as in crashing at your place. And…” I look around at the outside of The Masquerade, taxi cabs dropping off drunken girls and more casino high-rises lit-up and twinkling in the distance. It’s one of those moments that I just wonder—how did I end upright herein my life? In Vegas. With a fourth generation artist. It’s one of those surreal moments thatI don’t want to take back, even if it’s confusing and muddled and gray.

I feel his fingers beneath my chin. He tilts my head, so that I irrefutably meet his powerful gaze. I see the answer in them. Before he even says it.

“No, Thora.” His hand slides to the back of my neck, each fingertip hot. His grasp protective. He steps nearer, his legs knocking against mine, tension winding my muscles. His other hand cups my jaw, most of me in his possession. Right now.

It’s definitely not a familial gesture. It’s not even a friendly one. Shay wouldnevertouch me like this. He would never let his body do the talking like Nikolai. He’d tell me straight up: “I think you’re cute, but not likethat,Thora. Come on, we’re friends.”

Nikolai’s thumb skims my cheek, like I’m worthy of more affection. His gaze dances again. Along my lips.He’s going to kiss me.I read his movements, as he always reads mine. And I keep concluding,he’s going to kiss me.He draws me even closer to his body.

He lowers his head towards mine, and just when he’s so incredibly close, he changes course to my ear. Huskily, he whispers, “Come with me.”

It sounds sexual off his tongue. Especially now that he’s touching me this way outside of the gym. He’s not acting or putting on a show. This is him. Entirely.

I open my mouth to form a semi-coherent response.

“Nikolai!” a guy shouts. Nikolai raises his head, away from me. His cousin has a hand on the frame of the cab and waves him to join.

Nikolai glances back at me, the pull not lost. He lets go and I unconsciously sway forward.

“Your choice,” he breathes, his gray eyes raking my small frame before he heads to the cab.

I’m not usually this impulsive.

On a normal day, I list pros and cons. And I listen to the pros (rightfully so) and then go from there. So it takes me a second longer to gather my bearings and decide on my next action.

I don’t want this never-ending night to end. Not like this. Not in this way. I’d be imagining what he’s doing while I sulk alone. I’d construct a hazy picture of Hex and the events that lead thereafter. And I’d wonder what would’ve happen between me and him had I attended.

But the mystery of the night is not always kind. It can end in regret.

I watch him climb into the cab.

And I listen to my gut that saysyou got this, Thora James.

Don’t be afraid.

Whatever regrets I do have—it won’t be staying back, wondering and imagining. I want to live to the fullest degree. So I sprint to the cab, and slide in before he has the chance to shut the door.

I don’t look at Nikolai yet, but I sense his surprise.

I just stare straight ahead, feeling way cooler than I know I am. “To Hex,” I tell the taxi driver, like in the movies. How the badass girl just controls her own fate.

And then Nikolai says, “I already gave him the address.” There’s a smile in his voice.

Nice one, Thora.“I’m a work in progress,” I say softly, more to myself.

---