Chapter 17
Aurora
My hair is tightly pulled up into a high ponytail, and my scalp aches. The glitzy outfit clings tightly to my hips, and the strappy shoes painfully press against the blister on my little toe. Underneath the thick layer of makeup, I'm sweating.
Still, I’m beaming. We've trained hard for weeks, and now we are actually here in the splendidly decorated event hall in Bordeaux.
Around us is a diffuse darkness, and only the dance floor, where Maxime and I wait for our performance, is illuminated by a spotlight. It follows the dance couple with the number three across the floor.
The fiery Cuban rhythms of the live music are building up to their climax, and the couple on the dance floor is swirling their hips. The woman's arm movements are perfect.
Unconsciously, I reach for Maxime's hand. His presence calms me at least a little. "They are so good," I whisper.
"We are better," he murmurs back.
I force myself to nod. Even if it were otherwise, now is not the time for doubts. We've come this far. Two days ago, not everyone was impressed during our crucial audition at the academy. Madame Durand didn't show any emotion. Only thanks toCyrille did she not question further that Maxime and I had to compete in this tournament. The initial rounds went well for us.
But this is a whole different level. It's the final.
Only six couples remain, and our competition is flawless. The longer I watch the others, the more nervous I become. So I close my eyes now until I hear the music stop and applause begin.
"Peter Wonarova and Lina Balashnowa, ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice booms from the speakers. "Next up is the samba by couple number twenty-three, Aurora Olivetta and Maxime Rousseau."
Aurora Olivetta and Maxime Rousseau.It sounds beautiful. So beautiful that I get lost in the words of the announcer for a moment.
I almost trip over my own feet as Maxime tightens his grip on my hand and leads me onto the dance floor. Determined, I return the pressure.
The white spotlight catches us, and I snap back to reality. The thunderous applause reaches us, but it's not loud enough to drown out the rushing sound in my ears. My heart pumps like a powerhouse, sending blood rushing through my veins. My breath comes so fast that I feel like I'm already running out of air even though the challenging part is yet to come.
Maxime extends his arm, and I perform a few spins before we take our position in front of the judges.
My arms rest on his shoulders, my head against his chest. I feel his heartbeat, synchronized with mine, and I cherish the feeling of being so close to him.
For a moment, I close my eyes and envision my mother in front of me. She stands there in her favorite floral dress, nodding at me with trust.
For you, Mama. Only for you.
I force myself to exhale slowly. The drummer sets the beat with his sticks, and then the rest of the samba band joins in.
For the next eighty seconds, not only the gym-sized dance floor but also the eyes of the crowd and the nine jury members will be solely on us.
Now or never. This is our chance. If we mess up, our year is over. Madame Durand will never allow us any more public performances, and without those, I can't progress to a higher level.
I gather all my concentration, feeling the rhythm of the music and paying attention to every subtle signal Maxime gives me.
There it is.
I start to move away from him slowly, waiting for him to lift my chin with his hand and raise my face.
We lock eyes.
Smile.
Oh God, those eyes.
Those lips. The thought of how they tasted back in the park makes me swallow hard.
I need all my concentration to assume the dance position. In perfect harmony, we take our first steps. The music floods through me. I connect with it and with Maxime. The three of us form a unity that makes us soar.
