That was an understatement. When Jules saw the teensy little bump on my forehead, he went ballistic, even though I told him I’d tripped and fallen. Last night was the first night he let me stay in my apartment again.
Though it was a little overboard, I enjoyed our time together—Jules caving and watching rom-coms with me every night. Despite his sometimes stubborn ways, he cared for me. We’d never fought, never argued. So I knew what he was doing was probably best for me, even if I didn’t agree with it.
Mia rolled her eyes. “Relax, Evie. I know. But you’re telling me when we leave. Okay?”
Instead of letting myself burn under her questioning gaze, I faced the rest of the studio, which was lined with mirrors, reflecting the dozens of dancers standing against the walls while the Prince and the Sugar Plum Fairy danced in perfect harmony.
So romantic,I thought with a sigh as I watched their pas de deux. I wanted someone to dance with me like that, to look into my eyes, pull me close, and?—
There was a loud banging sound as the Fairy fell to the ground, rubbing at her ankle.
"Are you all right?"I mouthed to Elsie, one of my brother's oldest childhood friends and prima of the City Ballet Company. I itched to run to her, but a part of me remembered that Elsie wouldn’t want me to make a big deal out of her injury as it healed. She kept her emotions locked in a box even more than I did.
Elsie was the reason I’d always dreamed of auditioning—which I did as soon as I was invited to, even though it meantleaving university a year early. The close-knit dancers, the glittering costumes, the graceful choreography sounded like a dream, and I’d loved the idea of getting to dance alongside her even though she’d talked of retiring for years.
But when she badly sprained her ankle right before the season began, I thought she’d finally make the leap. Though she was young, ballet was incredibly hard on our bodies. Our feet were covered in blisters, the skin sometimes falling off when I took off my pointe shoes, and our muscles were almost always sore. Despite this, Madame Germaine somehow convinced Elsie to come back for one last season. It was nice to have a familiar face when I first joined, but I still didn't like knowing she was in pain every time she danced.
And my brotherreallywouldn’t like it if he knew how hard it was on her.
He said they were just friends, but I had my doubts. Jules was Elsie’s Prince Charming… if only he would acknowledge it.
"I'm fine. Go," Elsie mouthed before getting back into position while Madame Germaine dismissed the rest of us.
Mia slung her arm through mine and led me to the dressing room, which was steadily filling with loud voices laughing and talking about the upcoming show. The Nutcracker was every ballet's biggest show—generating enough revenue and interest to keep the theater going for the rest of the year—and the excitement for the upcoming shows reflected it clearly.
I arranged my shoes with exact spacing, adjusted the hems of my skirt three times, and smoothed the tiniest crease in my costume, my hands trembling until everything felt right. When I looked perfect once more, I slipped my coat on and reached for my scarf.
Well, not my scarf.
His.
It still smelled like him—like winter and leather and the faint hint of soap. The cream-colored fabric was much too warm for the studio, but I looped it around my neck anyway and savored the feel of it against my skin. Soft, unlike his body underneath mine.
The memory of him made my cheeks heat.
A lightly tanned hand slapped against my assigned vanity. “Rehearsal is over. Nowspill.”
I sighed. “I’m just nervous forThe Nutcracker.I don’t want to mess up.”
But Mia clearly didn’t buy it.
“Liar,” she said. “You did great today. Madame Germaine called you excellent, which is practically a promise to be a principal next year. And though you like to pretend that you do, you don't have to earn your place here every second. You’re incredible, Evangeline. We all know it.”
Mia's reassurance loosened some of the knots in my chest, but only a little. Compliments always did that to me. They always felt like things people had to say to me, not ever anything they actually meant. Maybe that was me being insecure, my childhood catching up to me.
“What’s wrong? Really?” Mia asked again, this time much softer.
The truth was that, while I was nervous about the ballet, my mind was a tempest. And at its center washim.
My Prince Charming.
His hard face, chiseled as if formed underneath a sculptor’s hands. His body, warm and safe andso muscular,filling out his suit in the most delicious of ways. His eyes, which were the color of the sky in the middle of the night when my dreams of him were strongest. His dark, swirling tattoos peeking out from under his collar. His presence, which sucked all the air out of mylungs, leaving my soul to crave him instead. His velvet soft lips pressing into mine and devouring my every uncertainty.
I bit my lip. “Can I tell you another time? I’m really tired. I think I just want to chill. But I promise I will tell youifyou can keep a secret.”
“Um… do you even have to ask that? Bitch, I’m yourbest friend. Of course, I can keep a secret—as long as you agree to tell me when you’re ready. For now, though, want to come over and rot our brains with cheap wine and reality TV?” Mia asked, wincing as the bitter winter wind greeted us outside the studio.
“Sure. Let me call and tell Jules.”
