Chapter 13 Stevie
Stevie
The swing gently sways forward and back as I dangle precariously from ten feet above the stage.
I can hear a pin drop as I wait for my cue, my fingers curled around the ropes as a harness keeps me tethered to the ceiling.
The moment I think about dropping pins, I remember dropping off the stage last week, and then I imagine dropping right now, the ropes fraying, the harness snapping, the ceiling caving in on me while the audience shrieks and castmates scatter.
I’ve never been afraid of heights, considering my favorite place in the world to be is perched atop my roof at midnight. But I might be now. I easily could be.
Focus, Stevie. Center yourself.
The first note rings out. A strobe casts muted light across my body while the swing carefully lowers me from the ceiling. I don’t dare glance out at the audience, terrified I’ll become blinded and my words will tangle and skew.
Pulling in a deep breath, I part my lips.
And I sing.
Diamonds.
They are forever.
And so is this moment, as I’m gracing the stage in a sparkling blue dress. It’s a forever moment, one that will chase me in my dreams and follow me for years to come, reminding me that I was once brave and audacious, regardless of where my future takes me.
I’m lowered to the stage floor as Lex approaches, wide-eyed and entranced.
I find his gaze for a beat, though I’m not supposed to be singing for him.
But he’s there, so I can’t unsee him standing beside me in his violet suit jacket and crisp white shirt, and all I can taste is the tension in the room as he watches me, hypnotized.
My eyes close as I daintily kick my feet on the swing and force everything around me to blur.
I sing my solo without a flaw or crack.
As the song fades out, Lex whispers softly, “I’ve never seen anyone like her before.”
The lights dim, curtains closing.
I pop off the swing as the audience’s cheers seep through velvet drapes. Blowing out a calming breath, I glance at Lex as he studies me, still looking oddly bewitched. Our eye contact holds for another stretch before he blinks, then shakes away the fog.
The show progresses in bursts of movement and color. Costume changes, makeup touch-ups. Coffee pours down my throat, followed by water, followed by a mouthful of hair spray, followed by more water.
Sweat trickles down my temple. I use a cloth to dab away the moisture, watching as Mr. Hamlin becomes a cloud of plum suspenders and waving hands.
Everything is go, go, go, and my heart is trying to keep up.
I observe from behind the scenes as Lex performs a song without me, and he’s flawless, effortless in his delivery.
I don’t think there will ever be a day when I watch him like this, just as he is right now, and manage to hold back tears.
That’s his power: spinning his art into something so pure, it reaches inside me and clutches my heart until all I can do is cry.
The next bit is “El Tango de Roxanne,” and my pulse jumps with the memory of our almost kiss. Jameson comes up beside me, nudging me with his shoulder.
“This is my favorite scene,” he says, vibrating with adrenaline. I feel it transfer over to me, sweeping through my limbs in nervous waves.
I peer up at him with a smile, blinking away the remnants of tears. “You’re doing great.”
“You too. You’ll need to give me your autograph before school lets out so I can say I knew you way back when.”
“Right.” I chuckle, dipping my chin. “I can sign your clavicle or something. You can turn it into a tattoo.”
He smirks. “Watch me.”
My cheeks heat as I look back out at the stage.
Moments later, we are enmeshed in a barbed-wire dance.
Lex stalks around the stage, watching us move, prowling, his eyes alight with strobes and tragic things.
Jameson spins me violently as I slacken in his arms like a broken doll before wrenching myself free.
He grabs my wrist, another spin, a frantic dip, and I twirl away from him, stumbling and in ruins, the strobes punishing us with bloodred firelight and making me sweat.
Lex’s solo fades into a haunting coda, and I move toward him with both grace and defiance. He pulls up from his knees, reaching for me, waiting, as I gravitate toward him, because it’s in the script, because I’m compelled to, because both elements are fusing as one.
When I’m in his arms, he peers down at me, pushing the hair off my face and gazing into my eyes like I’m something to be cherished. He bends, our faces colliding, and then another tiny kiss is pressed to my lips before the song fades out and the audience erupts.
Lex leans in closer, dipping his lips to the shell of my ear. “Don’t fall this time.”
When he lets me go, I find my footing and keep my balance.
I refuse to fall.
I refuse to… fall .
But I feel the turmoil in every step, in every song, as we move into the follow-up scenes. Emotion, conflict. I’m not sure what’s real and what’s for show as my heart races in time with my seesawing thoughts.
Jameson pulls me away, flaunting his power.
Lex tugs me back, claiming my heart. He takes me in his arms, and I feel like I’m his, and then he lets me go like I never will be.
I know this is acting, I know this is fake, but Lex is a master at his craft, and it’s weaving reality and fiction into knots while we traipse across the stage in front of a live audience.
“Come What May” is next, and my insides unfurl with equal parts excitement and terror. This scene is so intimate, the song romantic and absolute. Velvet drapes and elaborate props create a decadent backdrop, the lighting bouncing between warm golds and reds to amethyst and blue.
Lex and I come together at the center of the stage as music spills from the speakers.
He takes my hands in his and begins the first verse, releasing enchanted lyrics into his microphone, telling me how he never knew he could feel like this.
I smile wide, following up his verse with mine, our eyes glued, his glimmering like diamonds against the pale-blue lights.
He smiles back, our hands clasping together before I lean into him, resting my head atop his shoulder.
The chorus sounds.
Our harmonies collide.
I will love you.
Until my dying day.
I pull away from him, gliding across the stage, my arms lifting with words and notes. Lex reaches for me, spinning me back into his arms. The music rises, dramatic and immersive, and my chest is so heavy, so stretched with feelings.
Storm clouds gather.
Stars collide.
His hand trembles gently as he cradles my cheek, and I nuzzle into his touch. I wonder why it trembles: caffeine, insomnia, adrenaline, me. Our voices meld as one, growing louder, stronger, as my eyes lift back to his.
Suddenly, he’s not smiling anymore.
The tender moment takes on new life, new form, and I feel it churning and brewing, taking me over as the final chords ring out.
It all revolves around you.
I sing from my soul, and he sings from his. This is how it’s done; this is what magic is. Staring into someone’s eyes as you pull artistry from every achy chamber of your heart is an out-of-body experience I can’t begin to explain.
And when the last note pitches and our voices fade into the orchestra, we step closer to each other, out of breath, our bodies brimming with a telltale high.
I brace for the second and final kiss, for the quick peck, the half-hearted brush of his lips on mine.
Lex trails his index finger over my hairline, down my temple, my cheek, all the way to the edge of my jaw.
Goose bumps scatter across my skin, my chest heaving, pulse ricocheting.
I close my eyes.
Come what may.
But as I stand there, shivering, hardly breathing, waiting for that tiny kiss to come and go…something else happens.
Something so unexpected it steals the last of my hard-won air.
Lex cups my face with both hands. It’s not as gentle, not as meek as it was before. The motion has my eyes popping back open, gaze crashing with storm-licked blue. We stare at each other for a beat, for a breath, before he tugs me against his mouth in a wholly unanticipated kiss.
I gasp, and I sag, weightless and stunned.
We’re only supposed to hold this kiss for five seconds.
Closed-lipped and tight.
And he holds it, he does, but what he’s really holding is my heart in his hands.
Lex… kisses me.
His tongue slides past my lips and fuses with mine.
I whimper with longing, with shell shock, with every ounce of feeling I just put into that performance.
So does he. I feel it. I taste it. Everything else falls away.
No audience, no music, no lights. It’s only his lips on mine, his tongue leaving fiery trails inside my mouth, his thumbs pressing into my cheeks like he never wants to break apart.
I wrap my arms around his neck. Pull him closer. Angle my face until he’s tasting every inch of me and I’m dizzied and drunk on his kiss.
This wasn’t planned.
This wasn’t rehearsed.
This is the realest thing I’ve ever felt.
When he pulls back, his lips are parted, jaw slackening as he grapples for air. His eyes remain closed as he presses his forehead to mine, and there’s a silent wash over the room. All I hear are his breaths and my heart. A pounding. An underscore.
He finally takes a step back, his hands leaving my face in a slow, slow glide.
And then the audience explodes.
Claps, whistles, standing ovations.
The curtains fall shut, and I am undone.
When I look back on this day, I don’t think I will recall what happens next. Scenes blur together, and songs bleed into one. Action, noise, sweeping choruses, and climaxes—they will all feel insignificant. The heart-wrenching finale will be a blip on my memory.
But I will remember that kiss.
I’ll remember the way my lips tingled through every scene that followed, the way my heart was in my throat the whole time, and how I’m shocked I didn’t choke on it.
I’ll remember Lex holding my hand as we take our final bow, his palm squeezing mine, thumb softly grazing my knuckles, and the look he sends me when it’s all over.
There’s a wrinkle between his eyes. An undefinable crease.
I don’t know what it means or what he’s trying to say, but that look burrows into my bones, sending a shiver down my spine.
Our hands squeeze tighter.
End scene.
***
Exhaustion carves a tunnel through me the moment we disperse backstage.
I take a few minutes to collect myself, drink some water, and change into a formfitting black dress.
We’re headed straight to Natalie’s after-party, and while all I want to do is go home and crawl under the covers, it doesn’t feel like something I should miss.
Mr. Hamlin prances over to congratulate me, giving me a firm hug as I smile my pride against his shoulder.
“You were brilliant, Stevie,” he says, pulling back and gripping me by the shoulders.
“Spectacular performance. If you ever need a part-time job, my wife and I own a piano bar in the city. Please, come see us. We’ll hire you on the spot. ”
Chuckling, I bob my head, my smile stretching wider. “We’ll see. I’m not sure if I’ll be staying local after high school. Depends on which colleges accept me and where I end up.”
“Any college would be lucky to have you. You have a very bright future ahead of you.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that.” As I shake his hand, my eyes trail to the left, catching sight of Lex as he whizzes by, newly dressed in his casual clothes. “Excuse me,” I murmur, pulling away from Mr. Hamlin and beelining toward Lex. “Hey. Wait up.”
He stops, spinning to face me as he skims a hand through his hair. “Hey.”
“Hi.” The moment our eyes meet, my skin warms with memory, imagining his lips on mine and his tongue in my mouth. “So I’m going to that party tonight. Are you sure you don’t want to tag along?”
He stares at me wordlessly.
He looks so tired. Drained of all his light.
“I mean, if you’re too tired, I get it. But it might be fun.” I gaze up at him, fiddling with a button on my streamlined dress.
Jaw tense, he rolls his gaze over me, blinking a few times when our eyes lock back together. “You’re still going?”
“Yeah. I’m not usually big on parties, but I figured this was kind of a big deal, you know?”
Lex swallows. “Okay. Sure.”
My heartbeats amp up, drumming symphonies in my chest. I want to spend more time with him, talk to him about the show, ask him why he kissed me like he was lovesick and starved. “Really?”
“Are you staying long?”
I shrug. “Probably not. I’m beat.”
“Yeah…all right.” He clears his throat, frowning slightly. “Good.”
We hold contact for longer than my lungs can hold on to my breath. I wonder if he can tell that I’m a mess of questions, torment, and feelings. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire, my hands shaky as I link them behind my back. “Great. I’ll…um…see you there.”
He nods, glancing down at his boots. “Yep.”
I watch him walk away.
The first performance is over.
We did it.
But something tells me a new dance is about to begin.