“I don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
Fuck.
I looked to Jack, hoping he’d confirm that Matilda needing to work wasn’t embarrassing, but she continued before he could say anything.
“It doesn’t matter, Luca. But that’s why I wasn’t rushing to tell you about my money issues.”
“I get that, but I would never judge you forit.”
Matilda’s lips parted, a fleeting hint of vulnerability crossing her face as our eyes locked. My hand twitched with the need to touch her, to close the small space between us. She didn’t move, but there was something unspoken in her expression that made it impossible to look away.
“OK, as much as I’m loving these new soppy-as-fuck vibes between you two, it’s making me feel severely uncomfortable.” Jack moved across the room, the crystals from Matilda’s dress crunching under his feet. “And how much longer are we going to pretend that this room hasn’t been violated by you two and your bodily fluids?”
The tension eased immediately. We all laughed. Matilda’s cheeks turned the brightest shade of pink as she buried her face behind her hands, muttering an almost unintelligible “Oh my god.”
I gave Jack a look and mouthed,What the fuck,man?
He held up his hands in surrender. “Joking, Matilda. The studio wombat obviously raided the dressing table; I heard itlovesthe new Chanel perfume.”
She dropped her hands from her face, raising her eyebrows. “What about you and Lily?”
“What do you mean?” It was Jack’s turn to look sheepish.
“Just that you seemed awfully close the other night for people who barely know each other.”
“Oh, remind me. Was that the same night Luca was asking whether you’d been—Oof.” He clutched his stomach where the water bottle I had thrown at him landed. The fucker must have overheardus.
Another wave of laughter rolled through the room, and despite Jack’s questionable techniques, he’d eased the tension completely.
“Also, on the bright side, you’re back in the headlines.” Jack waggled his phone atus.
“And we got first place!” Matilda bounced in her seat as if only just remembering that we’d smashed our performance. It felt like hours ago that we’d been on theice.
“Yeah, the media has been going crazy already,” Jack added. “All good stuff, though; people are goingwildfor the kiss.”
A faint smile graced her lips before she clapped her hands. “I have the choreography sorted for next week, and it’s been approved. We’re all good to go with theEncantodance.” Jack’s smile widened, and I rolled my eyes. “We should probably tidy up the room before we go to…” She trailed off, looking at the mess.
“I’ll get a vacuum, while I am begging you two”—Jack glanced between us—“topleaseclean all the surfaces.”
OurEncantoskate the followingweek won us another first-place title, as did ourSingin’ in the Rainskate for the week seven Hollywood Glamour theme. At the Hollywood Glamour results show, the audience voted us through to the next round, although Nate, Sammy, and their partners weren’t so lucky. Heading into week eight, only five pairs remained, and there were three weeks to go until the final. Alice and Asha were still our biggest competition—if we weren’t first on the podium, then they were.
Luca and I still hadn’t discussed the dressing room incident. Two weeks had passed, and every time we were alone, the air felt thick with everything left unsaid, both of us afraid to admit something had shifted. Sometimes I wondered if one of us was about to say something, when Luca’s gaze would linger just a bit too long, or when I caught him opening his mouth, only to be interrupted for one reason or another.
“Matilda, are you listening to me?” My mother’s voice echoed through the phone.
“Yes, Mum. I’m just trying to work out whether I have time to rework the choreography.”
“What do you mean? Of course you do.” I put my phone onloudspeaker and placed it on my kitchen counter. Resting on my elbows, I dragged my hands through my hair. It was late Sunday evening, Luca had just dropped me home after the results show—and I could really have done with a shower before I climbed into bed. It was going to be a busy week, and on top of everything else, I had my second therapy session tomorrow. After weeks of thinking about it, I’d finally bitten the bullet and called her last week—and then went in the following day for my first session.
“It’s a lot of work, Mum. And we’ve only got five days to learn it.”
“So put in some extra hours. You need another win, and the audience will love you performing my Olympic skate—then, if you make it to the final, you can perform it again. I’ve already cleared it with Mark, and he thinks it’s a great idea too. He’s scheduled it allin.”
Of course hehas.
Frustratingly, my mother wasn’t wrong. The audiencewouldlove it—but I wasexhausted. I’d need to stay up tonight to finalize the choreography—we couldn’t perform her exact skate, as it was far too complex—and we’d need extra hours at the rink.
