Chapter 44
Rayne
Exile—Taylor Swift, Bon Iver
Today is not a good day. It’s Thursday morning, and I can tell something is off as soon as I start my warm-up exercises. I don’t know what’s wrong; I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t feel good. There’s a strange feeling in my stomach, a kind of restlessness.
I slept badly, maybe because Easton wasn’t lying next to me for the first time this week.
I spent the last few nights with him, but yesterday the guys were out and I was so exhausted from class that I climbed into bed right after dinner, picked a series on Netflix, and fell right to sleep.
I woke up in the middle of the night feeling a bit off.
I put my laptop on the nightstand, drank a glass of water, and fell back to sleep quickly, only to find myself in the middle of very confusing dreams.
I guess it’s possible that the strange feeling in my stomach is just because I’m tired and overworked.
In the weeks before we shot the music video, I spent so much time on choreography that I neglected a lot of other things.
For example, the exercises that are supposed to prepare me for pointe dancing.
I finally need to exchange my slippers for pointe shoes and at least get close to what the others are achieving.
Not to mention the theory lessons. I should really be studying for the upcoming exams, but I haven’t been able to get myself to do it, and the fact that Zoe and Mae finished their notes ages ago isn’t really helping to motivate me.
With everything else that’s happening, I’m falling behind again.
“Rayne?” A slender hand touches my shoulder. I turn to see Zoe’s concerned gaze. “Are you okay?”
“Huh? Yeah. Sorry. Everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” A deep furrow forms between her eyebrows. “Jase said that Easton has been reading too many articles about you guys online. Have you been looking at them too?”
“No, not at all.” I shake my head decisively and let go of the barre for a moment. “If you read too much of that stuff, you might as well go straight to therapy.”
“You have a point there. I haven’t read many, but I can imagine how much crap is being written.”
“You get used to it eventually.” Unfortunately.
“So you’re not worried about it? Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, but you really look like you’re not doing well, and I’m a little worried about you.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine. Really,” I add with more emphasis than I feel.
She doesn’t seem convinced, probably because I’m not either. But how can I explain to her what’s going on when I don’t understand it myself?
“I just slept badly.”
An understanding smile crosses her face. I’m not sure if she buys my excuse, but at least she lets it go. “I understand. I think it was a full moon last night,” she says, as if that explains everything. “I didn’t sleep very well either.”
“Yeah, it was probably the moon.”
Zoe still looks worried as we continue with our warm-up exercises, but she doesn’t say anything else, and I’m grateful for the silence and the fact that Mae is on the other side of the room talking to Kelly about something. She wouldn’t have let it go as easily as Zoe did.
My head feels like it’s wrapped in cotton as I stretch, forcing my muscles to work.
Unfortunately, my body isn’t really cooperating.
I’m stiff, and I hope it’s just because I’m overtired and have been pushing myself too hard over the last few weeks.
I should take a break, I know. But I don’t have time for breaks, I still need to improve.
But why do you need to improve?
The voice in my head is quiet but very familiar. It sounds like my mom. Why are you doing this, Rayne? Why do you always feel like you have to be better?
Blinking, I shake my head, trying to block out the voice, but I can’t. It’s there, and it won’t go away.
Why are you torturing yourself so much?
I close my eyes, suddenly wanting to cry. I realize I don’t know the answer myself. Not really, anyway. Maybe I just can’t admit the truth to myself. Like I said, today is not a good day.
“Good morning.” Mr. Conrad’s voice makes me look up. In his usual good mood, he enters the hall and directs us to our seats while Easton, who enters the room behind him, sits down at the piano. He smiles at me, and I feel an urge to smile too, but it isn’t genuine and he can tell.
His eyes flicker, his mouth silently forming the same question Zoe asked me earlier. Are you okay?
I want to nod, but I can’t, and suddenly Mom’s voice is in my head again. I realize that there are always going to be days like this. Bad days when I miss her and Dad a little more than usual. Days when I’m exhausted and a little lost.
I think that’s okay. I don’t like it, but it’s okay. I know the pain will never go away. I have to learn to live with it, and some days are a little easier than others. Today just isn’t one of those days.
* * *
“Hey, Birdy.” Easton comes up to me after class and pulls me close, even though neither of us really has time before we have to get to our next classes. I let myself lean on his chest anyway and immediately feel a little better as I smell his familiar scent.
“What’s wrong?” he asks gently as I bury my face in his chest.
I shrug without saying a word. He strokes my back with one hand and gently lifts my chin with the other, looking searchingly at me.
“Hm?”
“I just want to sleep,” I murmur. That’s at least half of the truth.
He studies me intently, looking directly into my eyes, and I think he really understands what’s going on inside me.
“Is there anything I can do?” His thumb strokes the corner of my mouth, and I almost smile.
“No. Tomorrow everything will be better.”
“I’m sure,” he says, sounding so convinced that I almost believe him.
Sighing, I turn away from him. “I have to go now.”
“Will I see you later?”
“Sure. I’ll come by tonight.” I stand on tiptoes and kiss him lightly on the lips.
“Okay.”
I start to walk away, but he pulls me back to him and kisses me, a little more intensely, a little more like we’re alone and the studio isn’t gradually filling up with the next class.
But we can’t pretend we don’t have places to be anymore. Sighing, Easton lets me go. I grab my bag and head for the door. But I barely make it there when Easton calls me back.
“Rayne, wait! Shit, what’s happening?” His voice sounds different than it did a second ago, a mixture of excitement, panic, and disbelief in it. I whirl around, and there he is, phone in hand, staring at the screen. He’s pale as a ghost.
I take a few quick steps back to him, and for a split second I forget that today is not a good day, that I feel strange, and that everything is off. Easton looks like he’s seen a ghost. “What’s going on?”
A stunned laugh escapes his lips, and he holds out his phone to me. My eyes fly over the display. I read the message. Once, twice, three times.
“It’s real, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice trembling. “I’m not just imagining it?”
“No, you’re not just imagining it,” I say, a chill running down my spine as I read the email from Redrock Music Group for the fourth time. “They want you. They want you to come to LA for an interview.”