Jase looks at me again. His empty expression is so unlike the boy I used to know that this time, my heart doesn’t clench in fear.
“Come on, Jase. We don’t have all day,” Francesca says. I can see he wants to protest, but then he moves toward me with lithe steps. He doesn’t look at me but past me. His eyes are fixed on a point behind me, and his face is a mask of complete indifference. As though he doesn’t care one bit that he has to dance with me now.
Every hair on my body stands up when Jase steps behind me. He’s not close enough to touch me, but he’s near enough that I can detect his unmistakable scent, sweet and musky all at once. My skin starts to tingle, and my breath catches in my throat.
“Another reminder: The pas de deux is about passion. About love and pain. Think about Florine and the Blue Bird fromThe Sleeping Beauty. Think of Odile and the prince fromSwan LakeandGiselle. You don’t have to like your partner for your dancing to be effective. But the better you harmonize with one another, and the more youfeel, the better you will be,” Francesca says. I can’t shake the feeling that her words are aimed directly at me. “Now, please try again, and keep that in mind.”
Jase and I don’t say a thing to each other, even when he comes to face me and offers his hand. He’s still refusing to look at me, and I want to say something, anything. But my mouth has gone completely dry, and my mind is suddenly blank. There’s nothing to say. It’s too late for an explanation and way too late for an apology.
My fingers tremble, but I force myself to raise my arm and put my hand in his. When I feel his skin under my fingertips, my treacherous heart stops for a moment.
Time dilates, slows down, slower and slower until it seems to run backward, and my stomach begins to clench frantically. My breathing is suddenly far too fast and shallow. My body feels like it’s burning.
The panic hits me again.
I twitch and start to pull back, but Jase holds my hands tightly, giving me no chance to pull away from him.
“Forget it. You’re not running away again,” he says. His sharp tone of voice sends a shiver down my back.
I didn’t run away because of you, I want to say, but my vocal chords have other plans. I can only stare at him with wide eyes as a tingling numbness begins to spread from the back of my neck.
“I—” I say, but he interrupts me.
“I’m not interested. Just concentrate.” He gives me a look that could kill as we take our position in the second row. I open my mouth and then close it again, because I don’t know what to say. Instead, I do what he wants because I have no other choice, even though everything inside of me is resisting. I concentrate on Francesca’s words, and my feet follow her instructions. Fifth position. The pain flares in each muscle, in my legs, arms, below my ribs, and in my back. The pain that has accompanied me for years. I have permanent tension in my whole body, which I owe to countless hours of practice every single day.
But I can’t stop my muscles from trying to lock in place and my heart from threatening to jump out of my chest. If I could, I would have done it a long time ago.
Shaking, I exhale slowly and raise my head so I can look in the mirror. A pair of green eyes gazes back, unmoved. I blink. I hate that he’s looking at me that way.
Francesca is still speaking, explaining which positions we should practice next, but I only understand half of what she’s saying. Pirouette, attitude, and arabesque. The rest blends into an indistinct murmur that reaches my ears but doesn’t register in my brain.
My hand is in Jase’s, and the urge to run away again is overwhelming. At the same time, there’s a part of me that wishes he would hold my hand tighter. A burning desire to throw myself against his chest and let him take me in his arms while I tell him all the terrible secrets I’ve kept from him comes out of nowhere.
I almost have to laugh. It’s a sad, desperate feeling. It makes no sense. Jase is the last person I want to tell what happened to me, and I’m sure he’s the last person who wants to hear about it.
Jase snaps me out of my thoughts by tugging roughly on my hand. I stumble and almost fall, but he catches me and sets me safely back on my feet. The muscles in my back tense as he puts his hands on my waist, and his touch burns like fire. Once again, the trembling creeps up inside of me. It starts in my hands, an involuntary tensing and relaxing of muscles.
Not now. Not again.
Francesca gives us a signal, and my knees go into a plié all by themselves. I listen to her instructions because it’s the only thing I’m capable of doing right now. I push off the floor, relevé on top, stretch my right leg to the front, bring it to the side, bend it back to the left knee, and turn, my gaze fixed on Jase’s far-too-perfect face in the mirror for as long as possible.
At this moment, he’s my fixed point, and his gaze is responsible for ensuring that I don’t lose my balance or get dizzy. And for that one moment, everything is easy. For a moment, the fear subsides.
He stands beside me, strong and unwavering, and my pirouette is... not perfect, but for the first time, not an absolute disaster either.
I almost weep with relief, but the feeling quickly fades when Jase looks at me from the mirror, his brow furrowed.
“That wasn’tcompleteshit,” he says.
The shame makes me blush. Is he serious? I stare at him uncomprehendingly, trying to find a clever answer and coming up with nothing. I’m at a loss for words.
Francesca appears next to us. “That was better, but not good enough yet. One more time from the beginning.”
We take position again, and I’m so humiliated that I wish I could sink into the floor.
Jase blows on the back of my neck, and I gasp involuntarily. “What’s wrong, Pixie? Have I left you speechless?” he whispers in my ear so quietly that Francesca, who is still next to us, can’t hear him.
My face is burning, and now I’m even more determined to show him that I can do it better. We keep going. But I can’t.
