One figure follows another, and we use the entire space. I gracefully stretch my arms, lift my knees as high as I can, and savor the dance. Every time our gazes meet, I see the longing in his eyes, the one he so persistently tries to hide from me. It washes over me like a wave, sending tingles through my whole body.
It's pure magic.
As unique as the shimmer of a soap bubble.
And even though I struggle to endure the effort of the movements with each passing second, I am as happy as I could possibly be.
We dance. For everything we hope for. What we dream of every day is becoming reality right now.
If only I could kiss him too. If I could snuggle up to him, feel his skin against mine, and lose myself in his presence.
The spotlight follows our dance, making the beads of sweat on Maxime's forehead glisten like diamonds, and everything around us fades into the background. We approach the final lift figure. It's the most challenging part of the choreography. We worked on the timing until the last moment since it has repeatedly caused us trouble.
Not today, Aurora. Today, we'll make it work.
I raise my arms powerfully overhead, tensing my whole body with the last bit of energy I have left, while Maxime lifts me at precisely the right moment. With the final flourish of the music, I reach the maximum height and spread my arms out with a sense of enjoyment.
Oh, yes.
Relief washes over me, and I struggle to maintain my body tension. The lights in the hall turn on, and thunderous applause erupts. There are even excited whistles from the audience. Maxime lowers me, and as I come down, my cheek brushes against his. Instantly, millions of tiny sparks ignite between us.
I want more of that—every day.
We stay in a tight embrace, breathing heavily after the effort of the dance. My heart beats hard against my chest, and the internal heat makes my face glow.
"Aurora Olivetta and Maxime Rousseau, ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice sounds muffled as if it were coming from far away.
I can hardly bring myself to let go of Maxime's embrace. Our fingers gently intertwine. Hand in hand, we bow first to the audience, then to the jury. I take the opportunity to study their faces.
Do we stand a real chance against the incredibly strong competition?
Neither the gray-haired man with the frameless glasses nor the spindly woman with the short blond hairstyle let me see behind their facade. The tall man next to her takes some notes. I can't get any further because the announcer is already announcing the next couple, who will get their chance to shine in the solo dance. We hurry toward the side exit. Along the way, we pass the dance couple, now illuminated by the spotlight while the rest of the hall is dimmed.
Maxime and I step into the shadows.
Technically, we should let go of each other now, but I can't do it. Just moments ago, we were so deeply connected that releasing him now would feel like letting go of a part of myself. Apparently, Maxime is having difficulty loosening his grip as well, and once again, I can't help but think there must be a better solution than pretending that there's nothing between us.
"Over there," Maxime whispers tensely to me.
I look up and spot Madame Durand in the semi-darkness. Suddenly, I have no problem letting go of Maxime's hand at all.
"Well, that was quite decent," the headmistress mutters once we stand before her, even offering a smattering of applause.
In one of our training breaks, Maxime told me what goes on behind the scenes at the academy. Hence, it's no surprise that Madame Durand looks like a child on report card day. I nod at her with a modest smile. Behind her, I spot Sky waving at me.
"Let's wait for the scores," Maxime replies so professionally that I can only admire him for it. He sinks into one of the chairs. I walk over to Sky and embrace her. "Thank you for coming."
She hands me a water bottle and, right after, the lipstick. "Wait, I have a mirror," she says, pulling a makeup compact from her bag.
For what feels like the hundredth time today, I touch up my lips. I can barely wait to get rid of all this makeup, but I have to endure a little longer. Together, we watch the dance of the last couple in the final round. They are so good that none of us dares to say anything.
We can never compete against them. Moreover, there is nothing we can do now to change that.
I hate not being in control. Nervously, I press my fingernails into my palms and observe how the last couple leaves the dance floor. A few minutes later, all the finalists are called onto the stage one by one.
I walk up to Maxime, and Madame Durand and Sky join us. The four of us stand like puppets on a string for a split second, all probably lost in our dreams.
Madame Durand may be envisioning Cyrille Perret promising her a special bonus. I can't guess what Maxime is thinking. Sky is probably already seeing us dancing at the World Championship. And I am also in my thoughts there. Moreover, I hear my mother deep within me, telling me with a trembling voice how proud she is of me.
