This Is Love (Evermore University #2)

26. Rya

26

RYA

These last two-and-a-half weeks since I earned one of the coveted solo ballet performances in the spring showcase have gone by incredibly quickly. Of course, my anxious self has spent the time on edge, waiting for the other pointe shoe to drop. One can only be handed so much crap in a short period of time and not automatically expect for the hits to keep coming. Only they haven’t. It’s weird. And now I’m strangely annoyed that whoever had been messing with me has just… stopped. It’s left me messed up, my entire body a ball of nerves.

Using the smooth barre under my hand as an anchor, I try my damnedest to simply breathe. Focus. And forget everything that plagues my mind. Millie calls out our movements as we warm up. “Fondu. Extend through the foot. And side. And back. And again. Keep those hips level, ladies and gentlemen.” Unfortunately, as much as I try to pay attention to the movements of my body, my brain wants to dart off in other directions.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. I don’t know whether I can trust this quiet and calm, but there’s nothing for me to do but accept it while it lasts. In fact, I need it to remain like this for my performance this weekend. I’ve been taking on extra rehearsal hours needed to prepare for the showcase. Hazel and I have been grabbing back-to-back slots in the studio so we can share and get in as many repetitions of our choreography as possible.

I draw in a breath, continuing to follow Millie’s count and instructions as we work through frappés. From Hazel’s place at the barre in front of me, she whispers, “How are you feeling now that we’re”—she makes a scared face at me—“only like three days out?”

I wet my lips, breathing through the regimented but fluid sequence of movements. Keeping my voice low, I murmur, “I think I’m good, honestly. We’ve got time to run through the choreo and perfect it. Your jazz routine is looking good. Are you feeling like it’s where you want it?”

“Oh, I’m good.” She turns to look over her shoulder at me, wrinkling her nose with a shrug. “I’ll just get out there and do what I know how to do and that’s… all I can do, right?”

I smile, not quite feeling it as I let runaway thoughts get to me. I don’t feel ready. I feel like I’m going to get up onto that stage and puke. But I hope I will be in a better frame of mind in a few days. Letting out a sigh, I murmur, “I wish I had your confidence, Haze.”

She shoots me a devilish smirk, “Yeah, well. Some of us are just born with it.”

A few minutes later, we’ve progressed through the rest of our barre warm-up, and Millie claps her hands, interrupting our quiet conversation. “Okay, let’s have this group right here to the center, please.” Millie watches like a hawk while the first of her selected students do as she’s requested. Hazel is one of the chosen six, so she leaves me to my thoughts.

It’ll be good. It has to be. They chose me for the solo ballet for a reason. I try to regulate my breaths as I watch the group go through a three-minute dance sequence, hoping to ease my anxious thoughts. As I observe, I idly fan my hand in front of my face. I don’t know if it’s just me, but this room is overly warm. It’s been so cold, someone must have cranked the heat all the way up. Sweat trickles down my back. Taking a seat on the floor alongside a few other students, I stretch while awaiting my turn.

I don’t have to sit around for long. “You six,” Millie calls out, pointing to those of us she wants. Rising quickly, I feel a tiny bit lightheaded, but I brush it aside as we hurry to take position at the center of the room. As the music begins, I have the strangest sensation hit me, kinda like I’m observing what’s going on in the room as an outsider looking in. My ears buzz as I force myself to keep dancing, going through each step of the choreography. With my heart rate increasing unnaturally, I fight against the feeling overtaking me. Stars twinkle and flash at the outer reaches of my darkening vision.

Almost as if I’m gradually swimming toward the surface, the garbled noises in my ears become more distinct. My brow furrows as confusion washes over me. “Miss Monroe!” I frown. That’s me. But…

I struggle to open my eyes. Somewhere in the back recesses of my mind, I understand that something has happened. There’s a sharp smack to my cheek. The same voice again. “Rya!” Then a rumble of hushed conversation. Who’s here with me? Where am I? What’s going on? Panic rising, my eyelids flutter. Someone releases a long, low moan.

It’s me . I made that awful sound. And the world is sideways. I’ve got feet in ballet shoes near my face. A few pairs of tights-encased knees. I blink, moaning again.

“There she is.” Hazel. I shift, blinking some more as my friend’s face comes into view near mine. “Girl, you scared us.”

“Everyone, back up. Let’s give her a second.” Millie’s sharp voice leaves no room for argument.

I take one agonizingly slow breath, then another. Still unsure what happened, I push my upper body off the floor but feel surprisingly weak, and one of the girls has to assist me to a seated position.

Millie is bent at the waist and cups my chin, making me look up at her. “You passed out. Are you feeling unwell?”

I stare at her for a second with my mouth agape. “I—” Cringing, I put a hand to my forehead before mumbling, “I probably didn’t eat enough today.”

Our dance instructor blows out a sharp breath. “Well, an under-fueled dancer is no good to me. If you want to perform this weekend, you need to go back to the dorm and rest. And for goodness’ sake, eat something.”

I exhale hard, nodding, embarrassment flooding through me. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Hazel. Would you mind walking with her?”

My friend nods… almost too eagerly. “Not at all. I’ll make sure she eats, too. She’s terrible at taking care of herself like a dancer needs to.”

I work my jaw to the side, my eyes flashing as they take in the grin spreading across Hazel’s face. Did she really just say that? Even if it’s absolutely true, she didn’t need to say so. My eyes narrow, but the smile remains on her face.

Millie pats my knee before returning to standing. “Get some rest. I want to see that gorgeous choreography you’ve put together on Saturday.” Flicking her gaze above my head, she makes eye contact with whomever is immediately behind me. “Help her up, Joaquin, would you?”

The well-muscled male dancer hooks his hands under my armpits and has me on my feet seconds later. Unfortunately, the quick shift in position from sitting to standing has the edges of my vision darkening all over again. My ears buzz, and I’m forced to grab at Joaquin’s forearm. Breathing slowly, I wait for the ringing in my ears to subside. It feels like a long time, but in reality, it was only maybe three seconds. But in those moments, I could sense everyone watching me. Wondering what the fuck is wrong with me and why I’m not taking better care of myself. Releasing his arm, I mumble, “Thank you,” to him, then shift to meet Millie’s concerned eyes. “I won’t let you down. I promise.” Then, like my ass is on fire, I grab my bag from the side of the room and exit.

Behind me, there’s a bit of commotion that I don’t want to think about. Just when I think I’m home free, footsteps sound behind me. “Rya! Wait! I need to put on my shoes!”

I whirl around, taking in the surprised shock that has washed over her face. “Let’s not, okay, Hazel? I don’t need that kind of help. I’m fine.”

“That kind of help?” Her lips twitch ever so slightly, and I see it in her eye—she knows exactly what I’m referring to, even though she’s playing innocent.

I feel like an idiot that her duplicity is only now getting to me, but damn… the more I think about it, she’s been making rude comments and chipping away at my self-esteem for weeks. I practically need all ten fingers to count the instances where she’s covertly tried to take me down a peg. My face burns, thinking back to some of the things she’s said and done. Every time, she’s made it seem like a joke or because she was having a bad day—like when she needed the tutor for that math class—but fuck. Saying shit about me in front of Millie? I’m a nice person. Forgiving, even. But that was one step too far, even for me.

Her mouth drops open and closes a few times like a fish trying to breathe out of water. “What’s gotten into you?”

“If you don’t know, maybe we aren’t as good of friends as I thought.” I turn and hurry away, and a few moments later, I’m pushing through the doors. I burst outside into the glacial March air, complete with wind whipping like crazy. I hardly feel it as tears streak down my cheeks.

It doesn’t escape me that Hazel doesn’t follow.

I move as fast as I can to the dorm, realizing I must look like an idiot running across campus in ballet shoes, a leotard, and tights, but there was no way I was hanging around in the locker room to change. At least it’s not my pointe shoes being torn to shreds. Ugh .

Jogging nimbly up the steps of Deveney Hall, I let myself in and immediately head for one of the study rooms on the first floor. There’s no way I’m going to my room right now on the off chance Hazel does come back. On the way, I pass a small group of guys I don’t know who are shooting the shit while lounging on the couches in the common area. One of them perks up as I go by, giving me a once-over with a raised brow. “Hey, baby, where’s the fire?”

Another smirks. “Care to join us?”

A third stands up. “I’ve heard about ballet dancers. Prim and proper on the street, but flexible-as-hell freaks between the sheets.”

I blink rapidly, shaking my head as I ignore the gross comments and the subsequent laughter, leaving the assholes behind me. At the end of the hall, I turn the corner and dive into the first empty room I discover.

Coincidentally, it’s the room I was in with Jaxon after the dorm meeting at the beginning of the semester. Back before I knew him, really, but even then, we had an undeniable connection. I need him. Or Logan. Want one of them to reassure me that I’m not being fucking crazy about this shit with Hazel. With shaking hands, I unzip my bag and dig my phone out. It takes me a moment to scroll through my messages, but I finally locate the group thread that the three of us had started a while back.

The guys have an away game today but are due back this evening since the university they’re playing is less than two hours away. I take a deep breath, then let it go as I unload, fingers flying over the phone’s keyboard.

When will you guys be back?

Shoot. How did the game go?

Sorry, I’m a little worked up.

I was hoping you were on your way.

Watching the screen in hopes that one of them responds, I walk blindly over to one of the couches, drop my bag on the seat, then prop my butt against the leather arm. Nothing. I let out a dejected sigh. I would have thought they’d at least be done with the game by now, but who knows if they’re in the locker room or have stopped at a restaurant along the way to get food.

My eyes crash shut, and I rub my hand over my face. Dammit, Hazel. I’m still shaking my head when my phone buzzes in my hand. I fumble with it at the same time my brain registers it’s Jaxon calling. Finally managing to jab at the button to answer, I breathlessly whisper, “Hi, Jaxon,” holding the phone to my ear.

“Hey, pretty girl. What’s going on?” I smile at the warmth in his voice. At this point, simply knowing he’s right there sets off some sort of response in me. I’m almost immediately calmer. And the more I think about how to answer his question, the more I’m glad he’s the one who called because in order to tell him what Hazel did, I kinda have to mention that it all came about because I passed out. Logan takes watching over me so seriously that he’d probably get on my case for not taking better care of myself. He knows it’s been something I’ve fought the last few years. With Jaxon, he might not see it the same way since he’s never been told by my dad that he’d better take care of me or else.

I groan. “I don’t know if I should get into it over the phone.” I get so wrapped up in dance classes and rehearsal and all the preparation that goes into dance performances that I simply forget to take care of myself.

“We’re a ways out. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what happened.” Jaxon’s tone has changed.

I silently curse Hazel again. Every sly remark she’s made has been coming back to me in a steady stream since I left the studio. Oh my god, did you just execute your very first walk of shame ? Rya, another one of your boyfriends is here . Then, there’s the fact that she was the one who suggested Logan had ransacked our room. And before today’s stunt, the latest had been, You took my ballet spot . The more I roll over everything in my head, the worse it seems.

“Rya?”

I snap myself back to the present with a firm shake. “Sorry. Um. I kinda forgot to eat and passed out in the middle of class.” His swift intake of breath is audible, and I hurry on before he can comment. “But that’s no biggie. I was just stupid. What is a big deal is the way Hazel told the head of the department, who is also our ballet instructor, that I frequently do that. She made me sound like this idiot spaz who can’t be trusted to take care of myself.”

“Jesus, Rya.” He exhales hard. “It sounds like it was bad.”

“It was. And I left. Anyway, I’m glad you called. Logan might’ve been mad if he found out what happened, and I don’t want to focus on me flaking out about managing my diet again. He’ll freak. I definitely wish it hadn’t happened, but that’s not really why I’m upset.”

There’s some movement on the other end of the phone before Jaxon replies, “Rya. Baby, you’ve gotta take care of yourself.”

“I know. But you get that’s not what the problem is, right?”

“I do—and you have every right to be angry with Hazel.” He lets out a sigh. “And I kinda get the Logan thing, too, but?—”

I wince. “He’ll go all dad-protective on me.”

“Yeah, so that’s the thing.” Jaxon clears his throat roughly. “He’s right here.”

Shit . “Oh.” Why that didn’t occur to me, I have no idea.

While I’m berating myself, Jaxon’s voice has become muffled, like he’s covered the speaker of the phone, but I can still mostly hear him. “Give me a sec. I had one more thing to say to her. Or maybe two.” The line suddenly becomes clear again. “Rya, listen to me for a minute. Logan loves you. We both know that. I see it in the way he takes care of you, and I wouldn’t ever want him to stop doing that. It’s who he is. It’s what he does.”

A breath shudders from me as I consider what he’s said. “You’re right.” And I’m glad Jaxon and Logan are finally in a good place, but now I feel like shit for trying to hide this from Logan. My eyes slam shut as I press a few fingers to my temple. Rubbing circles against the spot where my head has begun to pound, I quietly ask, “Was there something else you were going to say?”

“Yeah.” Jaxon’s voice is rough and gritty. “But I don’t want to tell you over the phone. We’ll be back soon. Now, there’s a guy sitting in the seat next to me that will not stop pestering me to speak to you. Think I oughta let him?”

“Yeah, you’d better.” I chew on my lip, so many things rolling through my head.

“Talk to you in a little bit, then. Here you go.”

“Hey, Rya.” Logan’s voice is like a soothing balm as it washes over me. But it has the effect it so often does on me… it leaves me absolutely defenseless.

Feeling the impending breakdown approaching, I try my best to whisper, “Hi,” without letting on that I’m about to lose it, but my throat catches on the word.

“Are you crying?” Logan asks, immediately following it up with, “Are you okay? Because that’s all I care about—all I’ve ever cared about. You have to know that.”

I nod, my lip wobbling. “I know. I don’t like to worry you, though, and I know you get irritated when I do dumb shit like this.”

“No,” he says softly. “Not irritated. Concerned. But you know what, it sounds like you are well aware of the problem it caused you today.” He pauses, but I know what’s coming next. His voice takes on a gruffer tone as he demands, “Tell me what happened with Hazel, because frankly, she’s starting to piss me off.”