This Is Love (Evermore University #2)

23. Rya

23

RYA

My final class of the day is done, but we’ve been promised the results of the auditions would finally be up this afternoon. It feels like an eternity we’ve been waiting to hear about them, but I swear these last ten minutes have been the worst of the torture. There’s not much to do… except be patient. Well, that and think , which is just fantastic because I have no shortage of things to ponder lately. The only problem is some of what’s on my mind isn’t anything I want to spend extra brain power on. I’d rather set it aside where it can’t send me into a freak-out. Ignore, ignore, ignore. I’m good at that. Until I’m not. Then whatever is weighing on me overtakes my thoughts and sends me under.

It certainly isn’t helping that since Monday’s incident with Jaxon’s car, things have been strangely calm. But perhaps it’s only because my life has been so crazy that it seems that way. So now, when there is zero chaos, it leaves me feeling the tiniest bit on edge. I’ve been in a constant cycle of waiting for whatever form the shitstorm will take next. It’s eating at me.

The more I allow myself to dwell on it, the more anxiety will creep in, and then I’ll be right back where I started—an uneasy mess. Is it possible that whoever has been plaguing me has simply tired of it?

That’d be great because without the animosity raging between the guys, things have been good. So good. They have a quiet way of demonstrating their growing feelings. A touch. A lingering gaze. An undeniable chemistry that practically sends sparks shooting through the air. It’s so unexpectedly beautiful, I could cry. I drink in every last bit of it, wanting more than anything for the way we need each other to mean as much to them as it does to me. I’m happy with how we’re progressing together. It’s better than I ever could have hoped for.

I exhale hard, wiping my sweaty palms on the tights encasing my thighs and wrench myself back to the present. Whoever is responsible for posting the list is now fifteen minutes late. My stomach makes a loud gurgling noise that has me pressing a hand to it, embarrassed by the outward display of stress.

I let out an unsteady exhale, bouncing around on the balls of my feet as we continue to cool our heels. Anxious, I glance at the others waiting. Some have come back just to find out whether they made the cut. Others, like me, are still in leotards and tights, fresh out of class with our dance bags slung over our shoulders.

Nerves whip through my body like live wires. I chew on my lip. There is a chance I will walk out of here having stressed myself out for nothing. I might not get to participate at all. I’m a freshman, after all. But there’s also every chance I did make it, so I don’t know why I’m psyching myself out. A sharp burst of air blows past my lips. I’ve got this.

Don’t I ?

Shit . I pinch my lips together.

“Relax, Rya, would you? You’re doing enough worrying for everyone and their mother,” Hazel mumbles under her breath. She’s uncharacteristically grumpy, her usual bubbly personality being held at bay by her own worries.

I shoot her a pained smile. “Sorry. I’m just so nervous I could puke.”

“Yeah, me too.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Can’t be much longer now.” And despite her griping about how I’m handling this insufferable wait, she begins to pace.

After her fifth journey across the hall and back, I grasp her arm, pulling her to a stop beside me. “What else can we talk about?” When she gives me an odd look, I roll my eyes. “We need something to take our minds off this.”

She pouts for a second, eyes flicking down the empty hallway in the direction of the dance instructors’ offices. Groaning, she shrugs. Only a second later, though, her eyes go big, and her mouth forms an O. “Hey, do you know if Logan left me his notes?”

My brows dart together, confusion causing a line to form down the middle of my forehead. I shake my head. “Notes? For what?”

Bringing her hands up, she smooths her hair back, making sure all the strays are tucked properly into her bun. “Don’t you remember?” Her head tips to the side, questioning. “I had to get a tutor for math.”

I rack my brain, but it ends up being a futile search. “No?” Peering at her, I frown, but then a moment later, what she’s referring to pops into my head. “Oh, wait. Yes . I do remember that.” I’d been dealing with a lot when she told me about it, so it’s not a wonder it slipped my mind. Internally, I cringe, recalling that I’d been so wrapped up in Logan and Jaxon that I hadn’t had any clue she was failing a class. Yikes . “What’s that got to do with Logan?”

Hazel shakes her head and makes a face at me that I totally read as Oh, girl. Do I have a story for you. “Well, my grade in statistics went from bad to worse. So I withdrew because I’d rather have a W on my transcript than a failing grade. Anyway, I figured it out in the nick of time, and my advisor helped me switch into an easier statistics class.”

Logan’s class . Huh. “Oh. Okay.” My lips purse. “He didn’t mention anything about you needing his notes to me, but that means nothing, honestly, Haze. He’s had a lot on his mind with traveling for baseball this weekend.”

“Shit,” she bites out, wincing hard before she scrubs her hands over her cheeks. “I should have said something to him earlier. I just forgot.”

At the look of distress on her face, I clench my teeth, grabbing her hands when she begins to wring them. “We could ask Levi. Maybe Logan left them for you in their room.”

Shaking her head, she lets a heavy breath escape her as she throws her hands up. “Crap. No. Logan probably needs them. I bet they’re with him.”

“Well, yeah. You’re right, he’ll have taken his homework for the weekend on the road. But we could call him. Or text him to take some photos of what you need?” I chew on my lip, raising my brows.

“Yeah—”

Hazel doesn’t get a chance to finish agreeing to that plan because a door opens and shuts at the end of the hall, and everyone’s attention immediately focuses on Millie’s TA as he exits her office.

My eyes widen, and Hazel and I grab at each other’s hands for support as we hurry forward with the crush of dancers that surges toward him. We skid to a halt a few feet from where he’s pinning several different pages to the cork board. There’s a lump in my throat that makes it impossible to swallow, and my heart spins and spins in my chest like it’s doing manic pirouettes as we wait. I swear the guy is drawing this process out with how slowly he’s moving. But then, he pushes one final pin through paper, turns on his heel, and strides quickly back the way he came.

All at once, there’s a mad scramble as everyone lurches forward to read the names on each sheet. When I don’t immediately move, Hazel pulls her hand free of my grasp and joins the fray. I bring mine together, folding them under my chin to wait. An unsteady exhale whispers over my lips as I watch the reactions of one person after another as they either back away, dejected, or twirl around, all smiles.

I can’t bring myself to go over there yet. My gut is all twisted up, and I feel overheated. Hazel finally gets close enough to look, and I pay careful attention to her reaction. First, there’s a huge frown… then, her head bobs to the side, and she shrugs as she turns, seeking me out. “Rya!” She waves her hand, beckoning me to come closer. “Come look!”

The pressure is intense, and I feel like my own worst enemy as dizziness makes an ugly appearance. Spots dance in my vision as it tunnels, causing it to go hazy and dark at the edges. In an attempt to save myself, I throw out one arm, touching my hand to the wall to stabilize myself, exhale, then slowly draw in another breath, blinking hard. Once I don’t think I’m going to collapse, I fumble with the zipper of my bag, then dig into it, pulling out a protein bar.

How embarrassing would it be to be that girl—the one who passed out because she found out she doesn’t get to dance in the spring showcase?

“Rya! What the hell? Are you okay? Get your ass over here!” Hazel gives me a quizzical look as she hurries toward me, like I’m some sort of freak at the circus. Who knows how long I’ve been standing here like an idiot, trying not to black out.

I plaster a smile on my face, then meet her halfway. She grips my hand, dragging me over. Stopping in front of the corkboard, I blink rapidly, finally scanning for the page I’m looking for.

“Check this out, I got one of the jazz spots.” Hazel taps her finger beside her name. “And you”—she flourishes her finger for a second before jabbing it down on the ballet list—“you took my ballet spot.” Her nose crinkles. “But that’s okay. If I can’t do my ballet piece, I’m glad you get to perform instead.” She sucks in her breath, oblivious to the chaotic thoughts flying through my head. Then, with a shrug, she continues with her diatribe. “In hindsight, I should have done what you did with the single audition. But that’s okay. There’s always next year.”

I shift, pulling her into a hug. “I’m proud of you, Hazel. Good job. So exciting! We get to prepare for and experience this together.” All the self-doubt, all the long hours of rehearsal, all the shit I’ve withstood to get here. It will all have been worth it. I blink, eyes finally focusing on the paper long enough to find my name—Rya Monroe—right there in print for everyone to see. Oh my god. I actually did it .