“Then of course.”Relief washes through me at his certainty.“Should I shift back?”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
Getting ready for bed as quickly as I can, I tuck myself under my covers. Even though I can’t see him—the comforting chill that curls around my body tells me all I need to know.
He’s here.
22
JOLIE
My heels clack along the pavement, and each time I put my weight on the ball of my foot, my blistered toes rub against the shoes, aggravating the pain shooting down my leg. My physical therapist would scold me if she saw me right now. I’ll really be feeling this tomorrow when I hustle to the studio for another long day.
At least the strappy nude pumps complement the mesh base layer of my ensemble for the preview showcase and the gala following. The navy damask along the fitted mermaid cut hugs my curves in all the right places, its layered train currently clutched in my grasp as I rush toward the theater’s glow.
I’d been waiting for Delilah to get home so we could head over together, but she texted to tell me that she’d been pulled into a conference call last minute. Now we are meeting at the theater.
I haul ass and pray my curls stay pinned up. My makeup setting spray better work the miracles it promises. Otherwise, I’m going to be sweating down streaks of foundation and rocking raccoon eyes.
This was not how I imagined tonight going. I was supposed to be having my first official date with Blake, but I haven’t heard from him since our wolfy interruption. Is he still planning on seeing me after the performance? I’ve been looking forward to finally going out with him, but if I’m being honest with myself, my mind keeps wandering to if I’ll see Jax when I get home. Regardless of whether or not our date’s happening, I need to talk to Blake. I’m not sure what I’ll say, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
I texted Blake earlier wishing him an amazing showcase. There was no response, but it’s normal to be busy when rehearsals and performances are kicking off.
The illuminated entrance comes into view, and I slow my pace, shaking off my stress. I lift my chin to channel my inner prima ballerina. The picture of poise and grace. I’ll be surrounded by the Institute’s patrons and biggest supporters, along with columnists who pride themselves in being career makers or breakers. Even though I’m not with the Institute any longer, I want to present my most elegant self to everyone I meet tonight. It’s not just about my own career, it’s also about Blake’s. If we go public with our relationship, it will draw attention to us both from the company, my old instructors, and the patrons. It’s already strange coming here after not being invited back this season—I don’t need to add anything else that they can gossip about.
As promised, I make my way toward the back entrance to visit with Lark and wish her luck before the show, our signature pre-performance snack tucked in my purse. Gummy Peach O’s—the perfect sugar kick to stave off the nerves.
Luckily, the stagehands recognize me, giving kind smiles as I pass them, a few exchanging quick pleasantries. I don’t linger long, though, the curtain will be going up soon and everyone is focused on final preparations.
Passing Blake’s dressing room on my way to the one Lark shares with our friend Sarina, I almost consider stopping by but think better of it. A few low grunts filter from under the door. He’s probably busy wrestling with his tights or makeup. Besides, right now isn’t the time to try to explain away Jax’s supernatural interruption. I’ll save that conversation for our date.
Knocking on Lark’s door, I pull the little plastic baggie of candy out of my clutch, my lips peeling into a grin. She’s being featured as one of the main swans in this production, something we’d always talked about doing together. I might not be by her side tonight, but I’ll be cheering her on from the audience.
The door swings open, and Lark immediately lights up when she sees what I’ve brought. “You remembered!”
“Of course. Wouldn’t be a show without them.” I hand her the bag.
She tears open the zipper seal and shoves two rings in her mouth, one of them hanging over her lips as she gushes, “Mmm! So fucking good. You’re a lifesaver, Jojo.”
Lark hands me a few, which I dutifully enjoy. Sarina peers over her shoulder, eyes going wide at the treat.
“Want one?” Lark pulls out another one and holds it up for her.
“Hells yes!” Sarina snatches a Peach-O and scarfs it down. I’m not sure she even chews it first, it’s gone so quickly.
“Wanna come in for a minute? We have to be at curtain call in five, but you’re welcome to chill here,” Lark offers, stepping back and holding the door open for me.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I want to get back so I can get situated in my seat. There was a big line to get into the building.” I give them each a quick hug. “Merde.”
“Merde,” they reply in unison before Lark plants a pink-lipstick kiss on my cheek.
You never say good luck. And “break a leg” is reserved for friends and family when they want to give you well wishes, but merde—shitin French—is saved for fellow performers.
“It’s going to be a great one,” I reassure them.
“I hope so.” Sarina crosses her fingers while she reaches for another Peach-O.
I start to walk back toward the stairway when Blake’s door opens. His lips are smudged with pink lipstick, matching Nina’s, who’s flushed, gaze lingering behind her as she readjusts the bodice of her tutu. When she notices me, she sticks her nose up, tone full of annoyance. “Oh, hey. Didn’t realize you’d be coming tonight.”
