That man looks just like Nash.
So much so that I stutter step, causing Dani to bump into me. She meets my eyes with a question as we head upstage, backs to the audience. I grimace quickly, then refresh my smile as we turn to the crowd again. I’m on the other side of the stage, so I can’t see the man, but wow… that looked just like him.
I’d like to say I shake it off and regain my focus. That I’m one with the other dancers, with the music, with the heart and soul of the show, but I’m constantly scanning the front row, waiting to cross to the other side of the stage for another glimpse of the doppelganger. I trip on the damn riser and almost jump ahead four counts in the choreography but manage to recover.
Kind of.
If I wasn’t feeling it before, I’m definitely not feeling it now. Something about making mistake after mistake just ruins the mood.
Finally, the man comes into view again and…
THAT’S NASH.
THAT’S ACTUALLY NASH.
Wearing a concert tee. And ballcap. Standing. Cheering.Singing along??
His eyes are locked on me, filled with pride and longing and wanting, and all the energy I needed zooms through my heart, sizzles through my veins, and meets the music head on. I dance like I never have before, joy winging through me.
“What was that?” Dani asks, panting as we dash offstage for our quick change. “Did your costume rip too?”
I shake my head, breathless. “Boyfriend’s here.”
She grins, but then she’s gone, her dressers ripping through the franken-stitch to get her out of her costume and into another while I rush to get strapped into the flying harness. The techs check the rigging and cables, then check the lines again before giving the all clear. I focus on my breathing, doing my best to calm down before I’m hoisted onstage for an aerial kung fu battle with Sandro, complete with the one-kneed superhero landing and a laser light show for effects. I sell the hell out of it and the crowd loses their minds. The rest of the show passes in a blur. I catch Nash’s eyes whenever I can, which is easy because he’s never not looking at me. As soon as the show ends, I race to the dressing room to find my phone.
Tell me I wasn’t hallucinating
Tell me that was you
Tell me you’re here
Nash
WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU KNEW KUNG FU???
My heart soars and I swear, if I smile any harder, my face might break. I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. Here I feared his silence meant he was getting tired of me, thinking of breaking up with me. Instead, he’s here!
Let me find security so they can get you backstage
I’m so excited I don’t know what to do with myself
Lucky for you, I know exactly what I want to do with you
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Nash
A burly guy—tattoos snaking up his forearms, earpiece crackling with static, scowl that could cut glass—leads me through the maze of hallways behind the arena. He’s the kind of man who speaks only in grunts and intimidating stares, which I can respect. He also looks like he and Gideon could have entire philosophical discussions through nothing but raised eyebrows and shoulder shrugs.
The corridors feel apocalyptic. Concrete walls still thrumming with the phantom screams of fifteen thousand fans. Fluorescent lights casting everything in harsh, unforgiving angles. My footsteps echo in the sudden quiet. Then we round a corner and slam straight into beautiful chaos.
Half-dressed dancers blur past in explosions ofsequins and sweat. Crew members bark orders into radios, voices hoarse from shouting over the music. Someone wheels a costume rack that’s hemorrhaging rhinestones across the floor like fallen stars, leaving a glittery trail of evidence that magic happened here tonight.
And then the world stops.
Lucy.
She’s still in full stage makeup—smoky eyes that could stop traffic, lips painted the color of sin. That sleek, dangerous hairstyle that makes her look like she could start wars or end them with a single glance. Her face is flushed pink from exertion, chest rising and falling like she just finished a marathon. Which, after what I just saw, she basically did.
