Where is everyone? Does this mean that the second half is going to be interrupted as people file in late? It’s so rude!
The lights dim, and I see a man stride toward me. One person! There should be at least thirty people in this row. I can’t see his face as he nears, but I can’t stop staring at him as he gets closer.
As he comes into focus, my stomach flips as I realize I recognize him. That sharp jaw and full lips. The shiny thick hair that looks like it was passed down from JFK himself.
I’ve seen him before. I never go anywhere, so I must have seen him in Star Falls.
But he’s not local.
He must be a celebrity. A movie star. Or maybe I’ve seen him onDancing with the Stars?
For a second, I wonder if he’s here to tell me I’ve wandered off track and to send me home.
“Good evening,” he says, returning my stare. His voice is low and deep and it sends vibrations across my skin.
He sits next to me. In the seat a woman was in before the intermission.
What is happening? Before I have the chance to process what’s going on, the curtains go up. I give him a final glance. He meets my gaze and gives me a small smile that flips my stomach inside out, and I turn back to the stage.
Just as Prince Charming comes to Cinderella’s house, my attention is pulled from the stage as I realize that no one has filled the empty seats in my row. The guy next to me and I are the only two people in our entire row.
Prokofiev’s beautiful music surges and my attention is again pulled back to the stage. It’s not until the curtain comes down for a final time that I’m conscious again that there are only two people in my row.
And I’m one of them.
“A wonderful production,” the man says to me as the dancers take their bows. His gaze is fixed intently on me, and I feel so hot under his stare that all I can do is nod. When Meghan comes onto the stage, I jump to my feet and applaud, as does most of the audience around me, including my next-door neighbor.
Meghan’s presented with a huge bouquet of red roses and acts like it’s a total surprise and she wasn’t expecting it at all. But even after all the performances she’s given, it still must be a thrill to receive a standing ovation—to have everyone in the audience thank you for sharing your talent. She can’t possibly get tired of the love she must feel from the audience.
“She’s wonderful,” I say, almost to myself.
The man next to me must hear me, because he replies, “She certainly is. She earned her position as the prima ballerina, despite her few critics.”
Meghan wasn’t always the darling of the New York Ballet scene. Some critics unfairly called her a pastiche of all the great dancers that came before her. She was accused of copying theelegant lines of Sylvie Guillem. And Natalia Osipova’s jumps. I struggle to see why any dancerwouldn’ttry to copy the masters of their craft. Isn’t it the aim of all dancers to be the best at everything they do?
I nod, and the familiar stranger holds my gaze. I turn back to the stage, trying to figure out who the man is next to me. I’ve definitely seen him before, but it can’t be from Star Falls. It would be impossible for a guy in Star Falls, especially one as handsome as the one next to me, to be a ballet lover and for me not to know about him.
Most of the men in Star Falls are far more into pool than ballet.
He doesn’t seem like he recognizes me.
After endless curtain calls, the lights in the theater finally go up.
“It was an incredible performance, wasn’t it?” the man says, and I nod. “I’m Jack, by the way.” He holds out his hand.
“Iris,” I say, sliding my palm against his. I don’t know if it’s because I’m so emotional about tonight, but I feel a surge of energy as we touch, and I pull my hand back a little more quickly than is polite.
“Do you come to the ballet often?” he asks.
“Once a year,” I confess. “I don’t live in New York.”
He nods as if I’ve just told him something that gives him the solution to a question he’s had.
“Well, if you were just coming to one performance, that was the one to come to,” he says.
“You enjoy the ballet?” I ask. Not that I don’t expect men to come to the ballet. But it’s unusual to see them coming alone.
“I do,” he replies. “Especially here. Even the more contemporary performances.”
