by Staci Hart
He waved a hand as he hung his bag on his shoulder. “Don’t be. Believe it or not, I was once in your shoes. I even had a sociology colleague of my own.” He waggled his eyebrows.
See? I hadn’t told a soul, but somehow the entire department knew the details of my love life. I wondered just what Christine had said and to whom, since even Blackwell knew. I was surprisingly unruffled by her talking about us — it kept the others from openly hitting on me like they used to. And she was happy with the bragging rights, it would seem. President of the creepy fan club. Knowing Chris, she’d have T-shirts made that said something like I conquered the West, complete with a cartoon cowgirl wielding a lasso.
“Well, sir, I appreciate your understanding.”
Blackwell sighed. “Ah, to be young again.” He shook his head wistfully. “Well, I’m off to lunch. Keep an eye out for the quiz questions in your email, if you would, and print them out for me before the next lecture.”
I relaxed a hair knowing he wouldn’t be going to his office. “Yessir. See you in a couple of days.”
We waved goodbye, and I headed out the back exit and toward Blackwell’s office, texting Chris on the way.
Get yourself ready, girly.
My phone buzzed again in my hand. Honey, I was born ready.
I made my way through the halls and to the office smiling, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear before opening the door and slipping into the dim room.
Christine was stretched out on her stomach on top of Blackwell’s worn, wooden desk, which he kept unnaturally clean, for an English professor. Thank God, because Chris was naked as the day, long hair in a bun on top of her head, glasses perched on her nose as she thumbed through Blackwell’s first edition Anna Karenina.
I smiled as I locked the door and dropped my bag, untucking my shirt as I strode over to her. “Nothin’ like a little Tolstoy to get the blood pumping.”
Her lips drooped into a mock frown. “What, nine hundred pages on doomed affairs and the Russian feudal system never turned you on? It’s like I don’t even know you.”
I chuckled as I unbuttoned my shirt. “That book costs more than my first car.”
She raised a dark eyebrow. “I’ll put it down as soon as you’re not wearing any pants.”
I shook my head as I pulled off my shirt. “The objectification of men is a real thing.”
She shrugged. “Tell me you don’t like it.”
“It’s weird, Chris. You should see how some of the undergrads look at me. Makes me feel like a side of beef at a meat market.” I unbuttoned my jeans and dropped them. I didn’t have on underwear.
Chris sucked in a breath as she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of Blackwell’s desk, crossing her dangling ankles, openly appraising me.
I gestured to her. “See? Like that.”
She looked me up and down with a small smile playing at her lips. “It’s just … appreciation. That’s all.”
“Mmhmm. I’ll remember that.” I smiled back anyway.
She met my eyes. “So Amanda’s throwing a party this weekend for the TAs and a few grad students. Let’s go.”
I made a face. “Together?”
“Of course together, silly.” She reached for my waist and pulled me to her. “Why, don’t want to be seen with me in public?”
I flat-out frowned at that. “It’s not that, it’s just—”
“I mean, we’re friends, right?” she backpedaled, trying to mask the hope in her voice, looking up at me innocently.
“Right. Yeah, let me see what I’ve got goin’ on.” I was suddenly uncomfortable and chased the fleeting thought of leaving. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was asking me out. But she knew what I wanted, and I trusted her to be honest with me if her feelings had changed, especially if they’d grown.
Surely she really did just want to go as friends. I felt presumptuous for assuming otherwise.
“That’s all I wanted, West.” She dragged the word out into a hiss before making it her personal mission to make me forget the conversation all together.
Lily
The pianist played Tchaikovsky’s Elegy in rehearsal that afternoon, and I leaned back, eyes closed, arms extended while Bastian, Jared, and Seth carried me away.
“Good, good.” Ward’s voice echoed off the mirrors and floor. “Let’s back up and take it from the Dark Angel.”
The corps girls and Nadia made their way to their bags along the walls to get a drink as Bastian, Jenni, and I posed in the center of the room and the music began again. Officially, there was no story in Serenade, but it was impossible not to watch without feeling one unfold. In the Dark Angel piece, Jenni and I would battle for Bastian, and in the end, the Waltz Girl — that was me — would lose him forever. I always felt like it was his death, and that at that point, the Waltz Girl is defeated, gives up. The segment after was where I would pick myself up and move on.
I loved Serenade. I’d loved it since the first time I danced it in the corp — it was one of the few ballets where Balanchine let the corps dance.
Jenni and I danced, the push and pull between the three of us carrying us through the piece until the music slowed, and I dropped in his arms and arched. He laid me down, and Jenni placed her hands over his eyes and led him away.
“Beautiful. Thomas, I want you to feel your loss when the Dark Angel takes Bastian from you. I want to see it on your face, in your arms, your hands. He’s gone forever and he’s left you here alone. You can’t go on without him. The audience needs to feel it. You need to feel it.”
I nodded, internalizing his words, feeling them burrow into my psyche.
Ward clapped. “Well done, everyone. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
Everyone chatted as we bowed and curtsied to Ward and headed to our bags. Nadia glared at me from across the room, but I only rolled my eyes.
Bastian snorted, glaring back at her. “She should have been the Dark Angel instead of the Russian Girl. She’s got that evil temptress look down.”
“Ugh, no.” I pulled on my warm up booties over my shoes. “I’d like to dance with her as little as possible, thanks.”
Bastian ran a hand through his black hair, smiling. “Good point. Plus, Jenni’s a better Dark Angel, anyway. It requires confidence that Nadia just doesn’t have.”
Jenni fawned dramatically. “Aww, thanks, Bas.”
His blue eyes twinkled. “Anytime, Jen.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if I would say Nadia isn’t confident.”
Bastian raised an eyebrow. “Confidence and arrogance aren’t exactly the same thing. Really, she’s insecure, and it shows when she dances. The Russian Girl is perfect for her. She brings the egomaniac to that piece like nobody’s business.”
We giggled.
“Seriously, she’s the worst,” he continued as he packed his bag. “And somehow, since she and Blane broke up, she’s even more conniving than usual. I mean, she’s always bordered on sociopathic, but she pulls it off with the poise and judginess that only a ballerina can muster.”
Jenni picked up her water and gestured with it. “I totally agree. And she’s got it out for Lily.”
My face tightened. “She’s always had it out for me, that’s nothing new. But after her stunt last night, it’s all-out war.”
Bastian’s lips were flat. “Please, girl. She’s just jealous.”
I sighed. “She’s got seniority over me, and she’s danced more lead roles than I have. Bigger roles, to boot. The masters love her, and they’ll keep loving her as long as they think she’s checking her baggage at the door. I’ve got nothing she wants.” My brow dropped. Except Blane. But she couldn’t know that.
But Bastian leaned in, shaking his head. “You’ve still got a better standing than her. They can see through her ass kissing — they’re not blind. You’re genuine, easy to work with, take direction well. You’re not desperate. When she dances, you can smell the urgency, like she’s going to lose everything if she i
sn’t better than everyone else. But here’s the truth. Secretly, she doesn’t think she’s good enough. She just thinks she deserves it more than anyone else.” He took a drink of water. “Entitled. That’s what it is. She and Blane deserved each other. Have you heard why they broke up this time? I can barely keep track.”
Jenni’s voice dropped as she leaned in too. “This time has been the longest. I heard they got in a huge fight, and he dumped her. I also heard he moved out this time and has been crashing at a studio he rents.”
Bastian raised an eyebrow and glanced at Nadia across the room. “I heard something else.” His eyes darted to me.
My cheeks were instantly warm, and I dug around in my bag for nothing to look occupied.
Bastian pressed on. “I heard that she didn’t like that Blane had been paired with Lily for Swan Lake. She and Blane have performed it together two years in a row, so I guess she felt like she had a claim on it.”
“And him,” Jenni added.
I waved them off. “I don’t know why everyone makes a big deal about it. We’re only partnered because of our height.”
Bastian leaned back against the mirror and raised a knee, propping his arm on it. “Doesn’t matter to Nadia. How’s Swan Lake going, by the way?”
I zipped up my bag and sighed. “Terrifying.”
Bastian’s smile brought me more comfort than I’d been expecting. “You’re going to kill it, Lil.”
“I hope so. I’m more freaked out than I’ve ever been about an injury. About doing it right, doing it well. This … this is the role of my life.” My voice had dropped with my gaze, locked on my hands in my lap.
Bastian tipped my chin up. “You are going to own it. I can’t think of another dancer who I’d rather see dance Odette. Plus, you get to dance with Blane Baker and the ass of the century.”
I had to laugh at Bastian’s starry eyes.
“Oh, how I wish he weren’t straight.”
“I can’t say the same,” I volleyed.
Jenni chuckled and hopped up, grabbing her bag. “All right, guys. I’ve got to jet if I’m going to make it to Four Temperaments rehearsal in time. See you later.” She twiddled her fingers at us.
“Bye,” we chimed. Nadia left right behind her, bun as tight as her face, eyeing us the entire way out.
Bastian leaned in, instantly serious. “I know about you and Blane.”
My head swung around, eyes bugging when they connected with his. I felt like I’d been slapped. “How?” I hissed.
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe in the vault.” He tapped his temple. “I overheard the two of you talking in the hall the other day.”
I scrambled through my memories, trying to figure out where we were and what we’d said.
“You didn’t say you were together, but I could tell where it was going. I mean, I can’t say I didn’t suspect it after sitting in on your Black Swan pas de deux. The two of you could make surviving sexual tension an Olympic sport.”
I dropped my face into my palms, partly wishing I were dead, even though I was glad it was Bastian who figured it out and not Nadia. “Fuck.” The word was muffled, sounding more like a groan than a swear, though I guess it was a little of that too.
He tried to comfort me. “Trust me, no one knows.”
I looked up at him with my face steaming. “How could you know that? If you know, who’s to say someone else didn’t overhear us?”
“Because I’ll hear about it if anyone finds out. People just tell me things. It’s a gift and a curse.” He shrugged.
I was way too far gone to be amused. “I’m under enough pressure as it is. Can you imagine what Nadia will do if she finds out? I can’t handle the full-on assault from her over this. I don’t even know what this is. We only hooked up once, and we’ve never gone on a date or anything.”
His face was soft, eyes big and kind. He wouldn’t betray me, not to anyone who would hurt me. All I could do was hope whoever he told wouldn’t spill to someone who would.
“Whatever it is, just be careful. I don’t trust Blane, and if he goes back to Nadia — which he could, you should be prepared for that — if he does, he might tell her everything.”
I nodded. “I’ll talk to him about it tonight.”
“And I’ll keep my ear to the ground.”
I sighed. “Thanks, Bas. It hasn’t been easy to keep this a secret, not with us rehearsing together all day, every day. I swear, they keep pairing me with him, which is awesome and shitty all at once.”
He made a duck face. “No way would I call that luck shitty. It got you boning Blane Baker.”
I chuckled. “I mean, how the hell?”
Bastian smiled conspiratorially. “Is his ass as perfect naked as I imagined?”
“Uh, yes.”
Bastian closed his eyes like he was eating an éclair. “Tell me he has a giant hammerhead.”
I deadpanned. “He has a giant hammerhead.”
His eyes were still closed as he grabbed my wrist. “Christ almighty, Lily Thomas. Don’t you toy with my emotions.”
I burst out laughing. “I wouldn’t lie about something so serious.”
He grinned and opened his eyes. “You have just made my year. Tell me it was hot.”
I made a face. “Kind of?”
Bastian’s mouth popped open. “No ‘kind of.’” He leaned in even closer. “Is it possible someone that gorgeous could be a bad lay?”
I blustered. “I’m giving him a pass. You know how the first time can be.”
“No, I don’t.” One dark eyebrow was jacked.
I slapped his arm. “Ugh, that’s exactly what my roommate said. I know you know what I mean.”
But Bastian shook his head. “Just make sure it’s worth it.”
“I’ve wanted him forever. It’s worth the shot, you know?”
He patted my arm. “I know. Just make sure.”
The door opened, and the next round of dancers came in. Bastian winked at me as we stood and walked down the hall, parting ways when we reached the next studio. But the unease that had wriggled into my brain was forgotten when I found Blane waiting for me.
ANTICI....PATION
Lily
IT WAS LATE THAT NIGHT, but even though I was exhausted from a full day of rehearsals and performing Serenade, I was wired. I stepped out of the steaming shower and reached for my towel, rolling through my list of things to come. I’d washed off the grime from the day, shaved all the bits. Knew exactly what I’d wear to Blane’s studio and exactly how I’d fix my hair.
Our first time was less than magical. This time? Well, this time was going to be magical, dammit. I was mentally prepared and ready to give it a hundred percent. Butterflies flitted around my stomach at the thought of him kissing me. And then I pictured myself laid out on the dance floor in the near dark with Blane’s face between my legs, and the butterflies exploded into poofs of glitter.
Epic, guys. Knee-shakingly, thigh-quakingly epic.
I smiled to myself, humming as I stepped onto the rug and finished drying off, fueled by the excitement of seeing Blane. I toweled off my hair as steam climbed across the glass like a curtain, and I opened the door, watching it recede almost as quickly.
I glanced over reflection at my wide eyes and sopping blond hair, catching a glimpse of the tattoo on my ribs. The watercolor vines climbed up my side, sprinkled with roses and lilies, a Tricky Evans original piece, and Rose had one to match. I smiled to myself shaking out my roots as I walked into my bedroom — maybe tonight Blane would see it for himself.
My clothes were on my bed waiting for me — a low-cut black tank and jersey booty shorts. The pink, thigh-high leg warmers would go in my bag, and a sweater and leggings would stop me from having to use my mace on the train. But I had to at least keep up the pretense of rehearsal. Felt presumptuous to show up at his studio in heels and a little black dress.
I frowned when Nadia popped into my head uninvited. I wondered how many times she’d gotten ready f
or him just like this. Wondered what she’d think if she knew I was on my way to meet him. At some point, everyone in the company could know. The thought upset and excited me.
It was something I needed to talk to him about eventually, but I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted everything to work itself out without any resistance. Was that too much to ask of the universe?
Probably. But I made my wish anyway and headed back into the bathroom where my phone sat next to the sink, lit up from a message I’d just gotten from my older sister, Astrid.
Hey, meet me at Habits. Just want to say hi.
I sighed and glanced at the clock — it was ten. Of course she would decide to come out tonight, not that I needed to be at Habits for her to feel at home. My big sister could look bored and starving pretty much anywhere, a trick of the modeling trade, I supposed. She’d always been quiet and a little judgy, but modeling had kicked her aloofness up to the next level.
Everyone knew her, though I didn’t know if they’d hang out with her if it weren’t for me, other than Cooper. They dated, or something — I’m not sure what you’d actually call it. Basically, they hooked up and took each other to events they needed arm candy and paparazzi bait for. It was a relationship of convenience, one that was necessary in their social circle. The comfort of a person who they knew was safe in a world where someone was always trying to take advantage of them.
I texted her back. Sure, can’t stay long. Got a date.
Oh, is that what you’re calling it? Bastian told me about Blaney.
So much for the vault. I scowled. You’re the worst, Astrid. And don’t call him Blaney.
Don’t get your leotard in a bunch. Come on, I’ll buy you a water on the rocks before your ‘date.’
You’re too generous. See you in a few.
I tossed my phone, and it hit the counter a little harder than I meant to. I didn’t get why everyone was giving me crap about Blane. Okay, I guess it wasn’t everyone, but between Rose, West, and now Astrid, I’d had it. I never commented on their dates. Maybe I used to make fun of West’s ex, but that chick was about as interesting as a bag of wet hair. He could do so much better. The guy was gorgeous and smart, funny, driven. And with manners. A total catch. If he wasn’t my best friend, I’d be all over that.