Page 91 of The Failed Audition

ACT TWENTY-FIVE

Three and a half months in Vegas and summer is gone, but today is still the hottest day of the year, which is cause for celebration in this city. The Masquerade’s Wet & Wild Bash is one of the biggest pool parties I’ve ever been to, and I’d revel in the DJ, masses of bikini-clad girls, six-pack guys, open bar (for Masquerade employees only) and decently cold water if I didn’t feel like a semi-truck rolled over me this morning.

Bruises mar my arms, thighs, ankles—war wounds from apparatuses and training seven days a week. Now in a salmon-pink bathing suit, the bruises are visible, including a nasty green and brown welt on my upper-thigh.

I try to hide the pain in my muscles and joints while I stand beside a high-top table near the cabanas, overflowing with people. I can’t even see the lounge cushions beneath the bodies—same almost applies for the pool.

I rub my swollen knuckles, waiting for Nikolai to return with drinks. Amour isn’t playing tonight. Management scattered Infini in their time-slots, and Nik didn’t seem pleased by it. Maybe it’s a sign the show isn’t performing well.

Elena could change that though. In six weeks she’ll take the stage in the aerial silk act, opposite Nikolai. I try to be happy for him, that he can finally perform his act again, but it’s hard to think of her and not see what I lost.

The high-top table vibrates from the DJ’s blasting speakers, and I rest my hands on the surface to steady it. A passing couple gives me the stink-eye for commandeering a table all to myself.Sorry. I’m waiting for someone.I doubt that I channel the apology through my face. Scowling. I’ve been scowling this whole time.

Resting Bitch Face fail.

My spirits lift slightly when I see a person behind them, a real grimace on his face every time someone bumps his arm. John looks ready to douse his beer on their heads. By the time he makes it to my table, he sighs heavily, like he just walked through the Sahara and barely came out alive.

“They’re all going to need a tetanus shot after this.” He gestures to the pool. “Idiots.”

I smile. “Nice to see you too, John.” In swim shorts, he’s way more toned than I thought he’d be, more definition in his abs.

He raises his drink at me in hello and scans the congested area, searching for someone. Then he turns to me. “So…” His dark brows tic up.

I frown. “So…?” I repeat.

“How do you two even work?” His face is still in that grimace. “Are you always on top?”

“John,” I say, wide-eyed. How Nikolai and I fuck is honestly—it’s somethingI’mstill trying to picture. I don’t even want to be on top that much, which is the worrisome part.

Near us, a romantically-entwined couple starts making out withmajortongue, and John’s lip curls at the affection. “Get a fucking room,” he says, loud enough that the guy shoots him a glare. “I’m not the one sucking face.” The guy flips him off butactually leaves our area. “Asshole.” John turns to me, my heart pounding. “You can’t be that surprised. When people see a giant fucking Russian man with a five-foot-something tiny blonde, it’s the first thing we all think.”

“No…” People aren’t that curious. But then I envision myself in their shoes. I internally groan—how do they have sexwould be in my top five thoughts, for sure.

“You know what they say,” John grins into a grimace, “you fuck a Kotova and you go directly to hell. No passing Go.”

My hand is half-covering my face. “I think you just say that.” I inhale, mustering some confidence and drop my arm. “And to clear things up, Nik and I haven’t actually…had sex yet.”But we’ve done other things.

John chokes on his beer. His brows jump. “It’s that difficult?”

Dear God. “No…it’s not because of our height and size difference.” I’m trying not to be insecure about how we don’t exactly “fit” together. But it’s hard when I have people like John reminding me.

“You’re a virgin.” The look on his face—you’d think this was the best piece of gossip John’s heard all year.

“No,” I say slowly, dragging out the word. “It’s possible for two people to go at a slow pace.”It’s not weird.Right? Every relationship has a different timeline.

“You’ve been in Vegas for almost four months, and you see the guy every single day.”

“Those are some facts, yep,” I nod.

He gives me a weird look. “It’s decided. You’re my strangest friend.”

I burst into a smile. “You called me your friend.”

He rolls his eyes. “A figure of speech. I havenofriends.”

“Camila is definitely your friend,” I note.

“Camila is my cousin. We’re forced to besomewhatcordial.”

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