I couldn’t spot her, nor could I hear her lulling voice, which had become too familiar over the past five weeks.
I didn’t particularly care what she was up to, but I had her coffee in my hand, and it would be a waste for it to go cold.
There was no chance she wasn’t here yet; Matilda always arrived first and left last.
Searching the space again and coming up empty, I headed toward our dressing room. We’d ended up spending quite a lot of time there watching recordings of our training and dances from previous seasons. Matilda had also started showing me her favoriteperformances, her face lighting up as we watched, and I found her genuine joy was infectious—annoyinglyso.
Approaching the almost-closed door, I hesitated, wondering if she was changing. Not wanting to intrude, I paused, listening. Her laughter reached me through the door.
“I know, I know. It’s one of those things, though, isn’t it?” she said.
I stepped closer.
No one replied, but she laughed again.
So she was either conversing with an inanimate object (which honestly wouldn’t have surprised me) or was likely on the phone. I considered walking away but stopped when I heard my name.
“Luca’s fine,” she grumbled, the sound almost muffled by her scuffing feet. Silence for a few seconds, and then, “All right, all right. He’s got better from his original arsehole-y attitude.”
I should have left, but it wasn’t the time to suddenly reconcile my moral compass.
She groaned, sounding genuinely frustrated. “OK, so maybe he hasn’t. Save for the odd conversation, he barely talks to me. I honestly don’t know how anyone has worked with him in the past. It’s infuriating, and I’m sure my hair’s falling out from the stress. Is that what you want to hear, Lils?”
Iknewit.
I crushed the small ache her words caused in my chest. I had no right to be hurt by them, as I had been purposefully riling her up. But I could be pissed.
I knew she’d been pretending my attitude didn’t bother her, when itdid.
The blatant deceit infuriatedme.
“Do you even know me?” She laughed again. “And what’s the point? It won’t change anything…Yeah, I guess…Yeah, me too. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.”
I should have stuck to my gut feeling all those weeks ago. I’d let her so easily saunter in and throw a few smiles my way, and look where that had gotten me. The studio suddenly felt colder than it had moments ago, and I exhaled slowly, forcing my shoulders to drop.
I stared at the door, weighing my options. Should I confront her? Or pretend I hadn’t heard anything? In the end, my anger over her deceit made up my mind.
I waited a minute before I tapped my knuckle on the door and announced, “Incoming.”
“Come in,” she chimed, cheerily. I surveyed the room quickly, and it looked the same as every other time—bright, feminine, and completely Matilda. She sat on the sofa, cross-legged. She tilted her head, a smile gracing her face when she spottedme.
I placed her coffee on the table, her eyes shining with gratitude. I sat on the other sofa, leaning against the soft leather.
“Thank you so much. I really need this today.” She wrapped both hands around the mocha with cream—her favorite—and took a largesip.
I nodded and flicked on the TV. It opened on one of her performances from the previous year. The title revealed it was week six, the furthest she’d ever gotten.
“Did you like skating with Jay?” I asked, referring to her partner from that year, my eyes remaining fixed on the TV. I thought he was famous from starring in some sort of soap opera.
“Yeah, he was nice, actually. Very friendly and just wanted to do well.”
“Why do you think you didn’t go further with him?”
“I think there were just a lot of good celebrities last year. Jay wasn’t bad, but others were better. It’s the way it is sometimes.”
“And me?” Her head snapped tome.
“And you what?”
