Page 64 of Teach Me to Fly

He stands up and brushes off his clothes. “I’m going to go wake up Terry,” he says, walking out of my room without a glance back.

I step out into the hall and watch as he bangs on his bedroom door before barging in. “Time to get up, dickhead.”

Volkov sitson a chair in the corner of Studio B, eyes glued to me as I do warmup stretches next to Lando.

“I swear he has something against me,” I whisper to Lando.

But he doesn’t answer, eyes tracking Terry, who’s whispering to Reign as he stretches in front of him across the room from us. Wendy is in her own little corner, sitting on the floor and folded forward in a deep stretch, music from her earbuds blasting.

“Do you think Terry is bisexual?” Lando whispers, oblivious to the fact that he ignored me.

“One thousand percent.” I nod. “He was definitely flirting with you last night.”

“He was, wasn’t he?” Lando’s lips curve up into a smirk. “Too bad he doesn’t mess around with coworkers.”

“Oh, please,” I scoff. “If there’s anyone that can get him to break that rule, it’s you.”

Lando turns his smirk to me. “Thanks bestie, I love the confidence.”

“Enough stretching,” Volkov shouts from his corner, causing me and Lando to jump. “We begin.”

Terry mumbles under his breath, something about how that was his call to make, not Volkov’s, and comes to stand in the centre of the room.

“Alrighty folks, as you know, we made some changes to the choreography of Swan Lake,” Terry says, clapping his hands once.

Volkov doesn’t even look up from his notebook. “Hopefully, changes that make sense. Last version makes Odette look like she fall asleep mid dance.”

Wendy snorts and Terry, unbothered, grins. “Thank you for that glowing endorsement, Volkov. I will quote you on the posters.”

“That would require posters to be worth reading,” Volkov mutters.

Terry ignores him. “Right. As I was saying, Lando, Wendy, Angelique, and Reign—today we’ll be rehearsing the first pas de deux between Seigfried and Odette. We’ll be focusing on the characters’ emotions and connection.”

I swipe my palms on my tights, my stomach twisting in knots as I glance at Volkov, who’s watching me again.

“We’ll start with the leads.” Terry looks between us, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Positions?”

Reign moves behind me, his hand brushing lightly against my lower back as he takes his place. It’s just a casual touch, but I feel it everywhere.

“Eyes on each other,” Terry says. “You’re not just dancing. You’re communicating. Every movement needs to say something. Feel something. Ready?”

Volkov leans forward in his chair, a predator watching prey, and the music starts. My arms rise slowly, trembling just enough to show the effort it takes. Odette isn’t strong, not in this version. She’s barely holding herself together. Everything she offers is fragile and haunted. Already slipping through her own fingers.

Just like me.

Reign steps forward as I turn. His hands hover before they touch me—one at my waist, the other cradling my elbow. I let myself lean into him, the weight of my body sagging slightly as if Odette is trusting him more than she should. I let my head fall against his chest, chest rising and falling with effort.

When he lifts me, I don’t reach for the air—I collapse upward. My legs extend, but the fight is gone from them because this lift isn’t supposed to show power, it’s supposed to show surrender.

He lowers me gently, breath brushing my ear, and a shiver runs down my spine. It shouldn’t make me feel thisway. I should be letting the sorrow seep into my limbs and hollow me out. But it’s impossible around him. The warmth of his breath lingers, curling low in my stomach and my chest tightens, awareness blooming between my thighs in a slow, traitorous pulse.

When he kneels and offers his hand, I take it, and the duet ends with me in his arms, forehead resting against his. Our chests rise and fall as the last note fades, and I don’t realize I’m trembling until I feel his hand press firmer against my back, grounding me.

Volkov leans back in his chair, arms crossed. For once, his expression is unreadable.

Finally, he grunts. “Hmph.”

Terry blinks. “Well?”

---