Page 35 of This Is Love
She’s adorably disheveled, even though she’s trying hard to coax her hair into a bun at the back of her head, there are all these little wispy bits of hair framing her face. It hits me again right then and there—I love this girl.
“I’ve gotta go. I have to be over to the theater for auditions in”—she pauses after pulling one of Jaxon’s sweatshirts over her head to glance at her phone—“an hour. I just… I need to put everything last night behind me.”
I frown, my good mood immediately tanking. “Wait. We do need to talk to someone about what’s been going on.” I rub a hand over my face. “You know we do. There’s too much that’s happened for this last bit of fuckery, or whatever you want to call it, to go unreported.”
Rya’s lip trembles as she looks back and forth, first to me, then to Jaxon. “I want it to be over with.”
Jaxon and I exchange a glance. His teeth are clenching just as hard as mine are. He lets out a sigh. “I think both of us get that. But he’s right.” His mouth twitches. “And you know I wouldn’t say that lightly.”
Holding her hands up, she begins to back away. “I get it. I do. But I don’t have time right now.” She draws in one breath, then another. “Please don’t let whoever has been”—her face falls—“targetingme take my shot at earning a spot in the spring showcase from me. My performance today affects my chance at being selected for bigger roles the rest of the year.Please.” Without waiting for a response, she pivots and leaves the room.
17
RYA
Breathe.My heart hammers a vicious staccato inside my rib cage. It’s so bad I can’t help but rub my palm over my chest in an attempt to make it slow… or at the very least to keep it from exploding through the bone barrier and onto the floor backstage. A violent lurch of my stomach makes me question whether I’m going to vomit from the case of nerves I’ve picked up on the way over here. I want in on this showcase so bad I can taste it. I’m doing an excellent job of driving myself straight into a panicked state that won’t help me for the audition.
Glancing around at the others sequestered in this small room, the stark truth stares me in the face. Weallwant this. But who wants it badenough? Whichever of us secure the handful of coveted spots will be those willing to push past the inevitable nerves that come with this process.
I’m terrified to fail. My parents didn’t pay for me to attend EU to come out of it a second-rate dancer. My jaw sets, chiding myself for not believing in my ability. The most frustrating part, though, is that there’s been one horrible thing after another happening to me, and I can say with certainty that it’s beginningto affect my performance in my classes. I let out a huff of air, grumbling. I’m freaking cursed.
And my brain won’t chill out, flicking back to being called into Millie’s office as soon as I’d gotten here to give my account of finding the locker room in disarray. I’d had to explain—skipping over the bit about the asshole who’d pretended to be my driver—that I’d run home to get another pair of shoes. I’d been in shock, but in hindsight, I guess I should have reported it. She didn’t seem mad, per se, but definitely had been disappointed in me.
And unfortunately, every movement in my pointe shoes reminds me that they’re dead—they’ve seen far too many hours of use to give me adequate support. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. The ones that’d been destroyed yesterday had just gotten to that sweet spot where they’d been beautifully broken in. With a sigh, I attempt to rein in my wandering brain, moving on to dégagés.
Drawing in another careful breath, I glance around at the flurry of activity around me. How does everyone else seem so relaxed? So ready? My teeth clamp down on the skin of my lower lip, worrying it. Could be because of everything that’s happened to me lately, the guys aren’t wrong about that. Break-in?Check. Drugs in my system?Check. Rape kit?Check. Ruined pointe shoes?Check. Wild ride with a psycho?Check, check, fucking check.
There’s not a way to shake myself free of any of that. Try as I might, it’s all loitering around in the back of my mind where I’ve stuffed it so I can concentrate. And the hell of it is, there’s been so much else, too, most especially the relationships I have developed with not one but two men. Logan and Jaxon definitely still have shit to work out, even if this morning they’d been in agreement. Of course they choose now to concur… right when I was hoping one of them would take my side.
But can I fault them for wanting me to properly report to the authorities what’s happening? No. I get it. All this crap doesn’t happen to one person unless they have some exceedingly bad luck. So, if it’s not bad luck…
Stop. I suck in a breath, then blow it out, refocusing on the remainder of my warm-up. I manage okay for a little while as, one by one, students leave the room to perform their audition pieces.
I’m mentally going through my choreography in my head when a throat clears beside me. “Thanks for the heads-up last night.”
My brows dart together as my head whips toward Hazel’s familiar voice. “Sorry, what?”
“The shit show with the locker room. If you hadn’t said something, I would have shown up without”—she plucks at the long sleeve of her leotard—“a single thing to wear.”
I wince. “Shit, I’m sorry. But glad I said something.”
My friend looks a little green. “That romantic tutu I was going to wear? The one that cost an arm and a leg?” She shakes her head. “Trashed.”
Glancing down, I notice she’s in her other favorite, a classical tutu. I sigh. “At least you didn’t leave both of them in your locker, huh?”
She nods. “For sure.” She eyes me, her gaze dropping to my feet. “Did you get those from home?”
“Yeah.” I exhale unsteadily, my stomach twisting at the reminder. “I’ll fill you in on that disaster later.”
Her pink-painted lips form an O of surprise. I can tell I’ve piqued her curiosity though, which is typical for Hazel. “I definitely want to hear about it,” she murmurs, her brow arching. We watch another dancer depart the room, leaving about eight of us waiting for our audition. “So… wherewereyou all night?”
My lips part as I weigh how effective telling a lie will be. Hazel has this way of knowing when I’m not telling the whole truth—which is why I’m open with her about most things… that, or I clam up completely, not wanting her to call me out.
She rolls her eyes, her lips twitching with mirth before she whispers, “I know you weren’t in Logan’s room.”Shit.How did she know the little white lie I was about to tell? She shrugs, keeping her voice conspiratorial. “I checked, Rya. He wasn’t there either. Just Levi.” Her brow furrows. “You can tell me anything, you know. I felt terrible when you gave me the CliffsNotes as to what’s been going on and realized how much you’d been keeping from me.” Letting out a sigh, she shakes her head, her eyes glossy all of a sudden. “I was worried after the whole mess with the locker room. I didn’t know where you were. I-I feel very out of touch with whatever h-has been going on with you, and it makes me feel likeshit.” Her voice cracks on that last word before she draws in a ragged breath to finish her thoughts. “I wish I knew what I’d done to make youh-hateme.”
My lips part at the unexpected tremble of her lips. “Haze.” I reach out, touching her arm. “I don’t hate you. Why would you say that?”
A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she raises a shaking hand to swipe it away with a few fingers. Her gaze shifts, moving around the room before finally turning her back on the other students.
