“Everything is marble,” I state, observing the multiple colours that are etched into the ground. It’s unlike anything I have ever seen.
We’re led through to the auditorium; it’s shaped in a horseshoe and is a sea of red and gold. I marvel at the view from the seats that we’re led to and suddenly feel overcome with emotion.
I blink rapidly, trying to clear the liquid pools that have gathered in my eyes. Reaching out, I run my hand over the golden pillars that I’ve seen so many times in photos. Nothing can explain the feeling of experiencing this monumental, iconic room in the flesh.
We are seated in one of the pods, just the two of us, with the most spectacular view of the stage.
“You’ve gone quiet on me,” he murmurs into my ear.
Mase
Her eyes are glistening when she turns to me, and a sharp pang shoots through me.
I smooth her hair back from her face. “Hey, what is it?”
She shakes her head as if she is lost for words. “You have no idea Mason Lowell. You have no idea.”
The ballet is astounding. I must admit it’s held me captive the majority of the performance, but since the last interval, my eyes haven’t left her. The way her body tenses up with every move they make, the jerk of her shoulders as if she knows what’s coming next. She is so immersed with the ballerinas on stage; she doesn’t even see anything else. It must be for her what she is for me.
Everything I never knew I needed.
She chances a look at me, tears rolling down her cheeks as the show comes to an end. She grasps my hand as the audience stands, a roar that vibrates through the entire room, setting adrenaline racing through me.
I can only imagine what she is feeling. But as she lifts my hand and pulls it to her chest, I feel her heart beating wildly under my palm. I pull her to me, placing a soft kiss on her temple.
People start to leave the auditorium, but I can tell she’s reluctant to leave. I bend, taking her face between my hands. “Come with me, angel. I have something for you.”
I lead her to the ground floor, weaving through the people and over to the front of the stage. Lifting the wooden panel, I slip into the orchestra pit.
“You can’t go through there!” she panics, pulling on my arm.
“Do you trust me, Pix?” I ask, stepping up to her so we are nose to nose.
She smiles, her shoulders dropping. “Always.”
I take her by the waist and lift her onto the stage. “You have fifteen minutes. It’s all I could afford.”
“What?” she mutters, her face turning pale.
I worry she may faint.
I nod my head to the lady at the curtain. “She has a list of music you can pick from. Go, dance!”
“Mase, I can’t dance,” she whispers down at me, looking out on the auditorium. “Nobody is here.”
“I’m here. Dance for me.”
Her hands grasp her face in excitement. “Oh my god!” And then she is crying, full-blown sobs.
“Nina, babe. Fifteen minutes.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Oh my god. No one gets to be on this stage.” She shakes her head in disbelief.
“I know. You almost didn’t.” I laugh.
She has no idea how much I have paid for the measly fifteen minutes I had to beg for, but the look on her face right now makes it worth every penny.
I walk a few rows down the auditorium and find a seat, spreading my legs to make myself comfortable as I wait.
