Page 72 of The Failed Audition

“Do you not like him or something?” He scratches the back of his head, more downtrodden than usual. He didn’t phrase the question as: does Nikolai not like you or something? As if it was all my choice to sleep on the couch.

“I mean, he’s just training me.” Those are Nikolai’s words too. He’s said them to me before.

Timo looks just as perplexed as I feel. “I thought he liked you.”

I rock back, my heart convulsing. It’s like someone fisted my internal organs. “What gave you that idea?” I think I want it to be true.

I shouldn’t.

He’s just training you, Thora. Stay concentrated.

Goals. I have goals.

John stares at the ceiling like this conversation is killing him.

“You’re living with him,” Timo says. “Duh, Thora James.”

I don’t feel like I’m so oblivious. I just think we’re all more confused than they’d have us believe.

John suddenly stands and nears Timo, only an inch taller than him. “What is this?” Clutching his beer, he gestures to the three glow necklaces.

“I’m single, complicated and taken,” Timo replies with a burgeoning smile.

John looks to me. “He’s a liar.” Then to Timo. “Seriously, you’re a liar.”

“Or I’m just a mystery, old man.”

John swiftly snaps off the red and green glow necklaces, leaving Timo with only blue. “Look at that, I solved your pathetic mystery.”

Timo licks his bottom lip and laughs. “You want me to be single, John?” This took a turn. I stare between them, my eyes pinging back and forth with intrigue.

John puts the beer to his lips. “I’m out of your league, Timo.”

“If you say so.”

“TAT! TAT! TAT!” The room yells over the pumping music, and my heart double skips. John groans at the commotion, but his feet carry him closer to the spectacle.

Timo clasps my hand, tugging me along. I’ve somehow slid deeper into the Kotova circle. He slings his arm around my shoulder and follows John Ruiz. “He’s a walking contradiction,” Timo says, amused. His eyes lower to John’s ass, squeezed in a pair of dark-colored jeans.

I just ogled John’s butt. I scrunch my face. That was not on my to-do list tonight.

I don’t have to ask Timo to clarify his statement. John is cynical, pessimistic, claiming to be drama-free, but he seeks it out and thrives on watching it. He’s also popular enough that three people scoot over, awarding us the closest view.

Timo wedges between John and me, his other arm swooping around John’s shoulders. I’m shocked when John doesn’t push him off.

My gaze casually drifts to the open circle, where the crowds have parted for Nikolai. And the minute I see another girl in it, my whole face tightens. Nikolai leads the twenty-something brunette to the lone chair, his hand on the small of her back.

His hand on the small of her back.

This shouldn’t marbleize me, but I’m cold and unmoving.

“Fifty bucks she picks a tattoo,” Timo says.

“Don’t you do enough betting on the fucking floor?” John snaps.

“I’ll take that as ano.” Timo nods to me. “Thora?”

I can’t answer. My muscles coil, taut and inflexible. Nikolai sits on the chair first, his intense gaze never deterring from the girl’s. Her blue glow necklace contrasts her red mini-dress, one with sparkly stiletto heels. He says directions to her, not audible from where I stand.

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