Page 26 of Teach Me to Fly

“No,” she answers too quickly.

Layla claps her hands again, looking at Angelique and me. “Front and centre, please.”

We make our way to the front of the room, Angelique keeping her eyes pointed downward the whole way.

Is this just rehearsal nerves?

I watch as her gaze lifts slowly, and she locks eyes with Lando through the mirror. He’s staring back at her, his brows tight and arms crossed over his chest. His attention doesn’t waver, not even when Wendy talks to him.

What am I missing?

“Alright, let’s start with some basic partnering moves.”

Angelique slips one of her hands in mine, her back facing me, but when I reach for her waist with my other hand, her body jerks beneath my fingers

“You okay?” I murmur, barely moving my lips.

She doesn’t answer, instead lifting her chin and staring at her own reflection in the mirror, but her expression is terrified. I try to ignore it as we move through sequences, but I can feel her resisting me and, by the look on Layla’s face, she’s noticed it too.

“Do you two want to try a lift?” Layla asks, approaching with her arms crossed.

“No,” Angelique answers.

What the hell?

Is she mad at me for what happened last night? No, there’s no way she’s bringing that into the studio, not when she knows Layla is watching her.

Layla studies her but doesn’t argue, instead calling for a break and waiting for the others to disperse into smaller groups to stretch or chat while sipping water from their bottles. She comes closer to where Angelique and I stand, hand on her hip.

“Is everything alright with you two?”

Angelique struggles to keep eye contact with Layla as she nods. “I’m just not ready to do lifts yet.”

A principal dancer from The Big Apple Ballet not ready to do a simple lift? Or is it that she’s not ready to do a lift with me?

Layla’s expression shifts because she’s not buying iteither. “We need to work on lifts today. I get that you two are new partners, but nerves won’t help you come performance day. I’ll schedule a session with the new Chemistry Coordinator for later today.”

Angelique opens her mouth to object, but I cut in before she can speak.

“That’s a great idea,” I say, voice clipped. “Please schedule it.”

Angelique looks up at me with wide wounded eyes, but I force myself to look away pretending not to notice.

“Great,” Layla says, her expression calm. “He’ll meet you both in Studio A.”

Chapter 9

Reign

Studio A is the biggest studio in the building, with vaulted ceilings, mirrored walls, and a polished floor that shines like glass. It smells like your typical dance studio; sweat and bleach.

Waiting inside is a man who looks like he walked straight out of a cliché ballet movie. Round in the middle, balding on top, and dressed in snug black slacks and a charcoal turtleneck that clings to his stomach like it's trying to escape. His eyebrows are thick and stern, and his energy is deadly calm. He’s one of my father’s most recent hires, a world-renowned Dance Chemistry Coordinator from Russia.

"Ah," he says, clapping as we enter. "Reign Harrington and Angelique Sinclair. Finally." His voice is rich with a thick Russian accent.

"I am Dmitri Volkov. You will call me Mister Volkov. Notsir,notcoach, notman who ruins dreams. Just Mister Volkov." He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Of course my father would hire someone that speaks in riddles and theatrical declarations like some tyrant God ofballet, forged in vodka and contempt. I nod once and Angelique offers a quiet “Good morning”, her voice swallowed by the size of the room.

---