Page 54 of This Is Love
A few minutes later, we’ve progressed through the rest of our barre warm-up, and Millie claps her hands, interrupting our quiet conversation. “Okay, let’s have this group right here to the center, please.” Millie watches like a hawk while the first of her selected students do as she’s requested. Hazel is one of the chosen six, so she leaves me to my thoughts.
It’ll be good. It has to be. They chose me for the solo ballet for a reason. I try to regulate my breaths as I watch the group go through a three-minute dance sequence, hoping to ease myanxious thoughts. As I observe, I idly fan my hand in front of my face. I don’t know if it’s just me, but this room is overly warm. It’s been so cold, someone must have cranked the heat all the way up. Sweat trickles down my back. Taking a seat on the floor alongside a few other students, I stretch while awaiting my turn.
I don’t have to sit around for long. “You six,” Millie calls out, pointing to those of us she wants. Rising quickly, I feel a tiny bit lightheaded, but I brush it aside as we hurry to take position at the center of the room. As the music begins, I have the strangest sensation hit me, kinda like I’m observing what’s going on in the room as an outsider looking in. My ears buzz as I force myself to keep dancing, going through each step of the choreography. With my heart rate increasing unnaturally, I fight against the feeling overtaking me. Stars twinkle and flash at the outer reaches of my darkening vision.
Almost as ifI’m gradually swimming toward the surface, the garbled noises in my ears become more distinct. My brow furrows as confusion washes over me. “Miss Monroe!” I frown. That’s me. But…
I struggle to open my eyes. Somewhere in the back recesses of my mind, I understand that something has happened. There’s a sharp smack to my cheek. The same voice again. “Rya!” Then a rumble of hushed conversation. Who’s here with me? Where am I? What’s going on? Panic rising, my eyelids flutter. Someone releases a long, low moan.
It’sme. I made that awful sound. And the world is sideways. I’ve got feet in ballet shoes near my face. A few pairs of tights-encased knees. I blink, moaning again.
“There she is.” Hazel. I shift, blinking some more as my friend’s face comes into view near mine. “Girl, you scared us.”
“Everyone, back up. Let’s give her a second.” Millie’s sharp voice leaves no room for argument.
I take one agonizingly slow breath, then another. Still unsure what happened, I push my upper body off the floor but feel surprisingly weak, and one of the girls has to assist me to a seated position.
Millie is bent at the waist and cups my chin, making me look up at her. “You passed out. Are you feeling unwell?”
I stare at her for a second with my mouth agape. “I—” Cringing, I put a hand to my forehead before mumbling, “I probably didn’t eat enough today.”
Our dance instructor blows out a sharp breath. “Well, an under-fueled dancer is no good to me. If you want to perform this weekend, you need to go back to the dorm and rest. And for goodness’ sake, eat something.”
I exhale hard, nodding, embarrassment flooding through me. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Hazel. Would you mind walking with her?”
My friend nods… almosttooeagerly. “Not at all. I’ll make sure she eats, too. She’s terrible at taking care of herself like a dancer needs to.”
I work my jaw to the side, my eyes flashing as they take in the grin spreading across Hazel’s face. Did she really just say that? Even if it’s absolutely true, she didn’t need to say so. My eyes narrow, but the smile remains on her face.
Millie pats my knee before returning to standing. “Get some rest. I want to see that gorgeous choreography you’ve put together on Saturday.” Flicking her gaze above my head, shemakes eye contact with whomever is immediately behind me. “Help her up, Joaquin, would you?”
The well-muscled male dancer hooks his hands under my armpits and has me on my feet seconds later. Unfortunately, the quick shift in position from sitting to standing has the edges of my vision darkening all over again. My ears buzz, and I’m forced to grab at Joaquin’s forearm. Breathing slowly, I wait for the ringing in my ears to subside. It feels like a long time, but in reality, it was only maybe three seconds. But in those moments, I could sense everyone watching me. Wondering what the fuck is wrong with me and why I’m not taking better care of myself. Releasing his arm, I mumble, “Thank you,” to him, then shift to meet Millie’s concerned eyes. “I won’t let you down. I promise.” Then, like my ass is on fire, I grab my bag from the side of the room and exit.
Behind me, there’s a bit of commotion that I don’t want to think about. Just when I think I’m home free, footsteps sound behind me. “Rya! Wait! I need to put on my shoes!”
I whirl around, taking in the surprised shock that has washed over her face. “Let’s not, okay, Hazel? I don’t need that kind of help. I’m fine.”
“That kind of help?” Her lips twitch ever so slightly, and I see it in her eye—she knows exactly what I’m referring to, even though she’s playing innocent.
I feel like an idiot that her duplicity is only now getting to me, but damn… the more I think about it, she’s been making rude comments and chipping away at my self-esteem for weeks. I practically need all ten fingers to count the instances where she’s covertly tried to take me down a peg. My face burns, thinking back to some of the things she’s said and done. Every time, she’s made it seem like a joke or because she was having a bad day—like when she needed the tutor for that math class—butfuck. Saying shit about me in front of Millie? I’m a nice person. Forgiving, even. But that was one step too far, even for me.
Her mouth drops open and closes a few times like a fish trying to breathe out of water. “What’s gotten into you?”
“If you don’t know, maybe we aren’t as good of friends as I thought.” I turn and hurry away, and a few moments later, I’m pushing through the doors. I burst outside into the glacial March air, complete with wind whipping like crazy. I hardly feel it as tears streak down my cheeks.
It doesn’t escape me that Hazel doesn’t follow.
I move as fast as I can to the dorm, realizing I must look like an idiot running across campus in ballet shoes, a leotard, and tights, but there was no way I was hanging around in the locker room to change. At least it’s not my pointe shoes being torn to shreds.Ugh.
Jogging nimbly up the steps of Deveney Hall, I let myself in and immediately head for one of the study rooms on the first floor. There’s no way I’m going to my room right now on the off chance Hazel does come back. On the way, I pass a small group of guys I don’t know who are shooting the shit while lounging on the couches in the common area. One of them perks up as I go by, giving me a once-over with a raised brow. “Hey, baby, where’s the fire?”
Another smirks. “Care to join us?”
A third stands up. “I’ve heard about ballet dancers. Prim and proper on the street, but flexible-as-hell freaks between the sheets.”
I blink rapidly, shaking my head as I ignore the gross comments and the subsequent laughter, leaving the assholes behind me. At the end of the hall, I turn the corner and dive into the first empty room I discover.
