Page 28 of Teach Me to Fly

Am I making her nervous? Or did she develop some sort of stage fright and that’s why she left New York?

The questions cloud my mind as Angelique takes her mark again, drawing in a deep breath. Volkov paces in the corner, muttering something under his breath, but I tune him out as I focus on her again because I can feel something shift in the air as she closes her eyes. It’s not something you can name, but I feel it, like the hush before a storm.

And then she moves, differently this time. She doesn’t force the steps; it’s almost like she surrenders to them. Her sorrow bleeds through the lines of her body, her extensions aching with grief, not just technique. Her arms aren’t arms anymore, they’re wings, and she’s transformed into Odette. There’s something achingly honest and beautiful about it.

Thisis the Angelique that the world needs to see.

By the time she hits her final position, I’m not stretching anymore. I don’t even remember standing. My arms hang loosely at my sides while I stare at her, my pulse high in my throat. For a second, I forget this is a rehearsal. I forget Volkov is here. And I forget myself.

Volkov claps once, the sharp crack snapping me out of my trance. He’s dabbing at his eyes with a ridiculous handkerchief like the dramatist he is.

“Brava,” he breathes. “A swan I believe. You will make beautiful Odette.” Then he waves a hand like he’s bored again. “Break time. Go hydrate or cry in bathroom. I don’t care.”

Angelique slips out without a word, vanishing down the hallway. I watch the door long after she’s gone, choosing not to follow right away because I need a moment to understand why her dance cracked something in me. It was like being punched in the gut by everything I’ve been trying to forget. The way she used to look at me, the way she left me, and the way I let her.

Wanting her like that again is dangerous, and I already know how that story would end if I let her back in; she’d just leave me again. So, I won’t let myself get tangled up in her, because it’s safer not to feel when you’re the one always left behind.

When she doesn’t return after a few minutes, I make my way into the hall. I don’t even think about where I’m going, but I end up outside the lady’s bathroom, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed, one leg bent as I wait for her.

The door swings open minutes later, and as predicted, Angelique steps out, hair slightly mussed, cheeks flushed, skin damp. She pauses when she sees me, her eyes widening slightly.

“Everything okay?” I ask, for what feels like the tenth time today.

She nods, brushing water from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I just needed a minute.”

I hum, noncommittal, and glance away, about to let hergo, then stop myself. “You were good in there,” I say flatly. “Better than I expected.”

She blinks. “Is that a compliment?”

I press my tongue to the inside of my cheek. “Don’t let it go to your head, Sinclair,” I mutter. “You did what you were supposed to do.”

She exhales, half a laugh. “And here I thought you stopped noticing me.”

“I notice everything.” That lands heavier than I intend.

Her eyes search mine, like she wants to say something but is thinking better of it. I push off the wall, ready to leave, but I hesitate again.

“Whatever you tapped into…don’t lose it.”

She swallows hard, her expression fragile. “You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“I know it’s not,” I say, quieter now. “But you make people feel something when you dance like that, and that’s exactly what Imperium needs.”

It’s what I need.

She glances down at the ground and says—so soft I almost miss it—“Maybe you should try tapping into that too.”

That stops me cold, and I let out a short, surprised laugh that startles even me. I stare at her like I’m seeing her for the first time, like I’m not sure what to do with this new version of her, but I like it. The younger Angelique would never have the courage in her to say something like that to me.

She looks up, cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean?—”

“No,” I cut in, still half-smirking, half-stunned. “You did.”

I step back slowly, eyes still locked on hers. “Careful,Angel,” I murmur, voice dropping. “That almost sounded like you still care.”

Then I turn and walk away, back down the hall toward the studio. But every step feels heavier now, like she’s branded something into my chest just by standing there and daring to speak the truth. I don’t know what just happened, but I know it’s just the beginning.

Back in the studio,Volkov claps his hands. “Break is over. Enough water. Time to dance like you care.” He shoots me a pointed look before waving his hand between me and Angelique. “Pas de deux. Act Two. Start from the lift.”

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