Page 64 of The Failed Audition

Dimitri lets out a short laugh and says something to Nikolai in Russian. Frustration binds my muscles, mildly irritated that I can’t understand them. It’s like being a part of the wrong foreign feature film.

I muster the courage to say, “You can talk in English.”

Dimitri smirks again. “How old are you?” The way he asks—it’s like he’s gauging whether or not I’m legal to screw.

Nikolai dips his head down, his lips brushing my ear, “I promise you’re safe, myshka. Don’t read into him.” He knows I am. Because he’s reading into me.

“Twenty-one,” I answer softly.

My phone buzzes.

Headphones help– Katya

And then another text drops beneath that one.

It’s still impossible to block out the annoying parts of them. You should come upstairs. My cousins aren’t allowed in my room. My rules.– Katya

Before Dimitri asks another question, I spring to my feet, Nikolai’s arm falling off me. “I’m going to go…” I point at the twisty iron staircase. “…talk to Katya.”

Both guys say nothing. No facial expression beyond their intimidating builds and strong jaws. No smiles. Okay…you have this, Thora.

Confidence still intact, I spin on my heels and head to the staircase. About three guys watching the television start to shout over each other. It strengthens my determination, somehow, and I climb the stairs to Katya’s room.

I’m about to knock, but she shouts, “You can come in, Thora!”

I open the door and shut it behind me, the hollering faint now. Her room is tiny, like the size of my dorm. On her dark purple comforter, Katya leans against a headboard, paperback in hand.

I scan her space: clothes strewn over a desk chair, textbooks stacked on a window. It looks less like a hotel and more like a teenager’s bedroom, with posters from different circus shows taped unevenly on the cream walls.

Nova Vega

Celeste

Somnio

Infini

Seraphine

Viva

Amour

The largest poster hangs above her bed: Noctis, orange words scrawled over a moon. It’s clear which Aerial Ethereal show she favors.

“Did Dimitri hit on you?” she asks, plucking earbuds out and closing the paranormal book.

“Does he have a reputation for hitting on anything with two legs?” I ask, sitting at the end of her bed, tucking my ankles underneath my thighs, crisscrossed.

She nods, her hair dried straight around her thin face. “Unless you share the same DNA. Which, you don’t. And he’s…” She crinkles her nose.

“What?” I frown.

“He’s really competitive with Nik,” she says. I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. I’m left to assume that Dimitri wants what Nikolai has—that’s most likely why he found me interesting at all.

I gesture to the paperback. “How’s the book?” I’ve loaned out books before, but rarely are they ever read. So it’s kind of special to see someone actually dive into the story.

“I think I like the werewolves more than the vampires,” she says.

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