Elle
Burnt.
That’s all I feel about my one and only true love, ballet.
I feel burnt up and burnt out.
The wax is nearly gone; the wick is nearly gone, but I’m desperately holding onto what little spark I have left to get through auditions.
I thought I was used to rigorous ballet schedules, but my normal classes combined with double and even triple sessions with Gant, where we go over Cinderella’s choreography non-stop, are beginning to take its toll. Some of our classes are extremely technical and critical. Others are painful from the positions, others pleasurable from the positions. Sometimes it’s a combination of the two.
Still, I know it’s not enough if I want a chance in hell of landing even a minor role in the play. Gant insisted we practised Cinderella’s parts, but I’d be relieved to even land the role of fairy godmother or a stepsister. It’d give me enough stage time to hopefully catch a scout’s attention.
So I continued practising in the dorm without him, even when he harassed me to get some rest. I could afford a rest after the auditions. Besides, my persistence is clearly paying off because I’m no longer Mistress Errard’s target for every class. In fact, I managed to get through adagio without a singular negative comment and today when we performed petite allegro, she’d actually complimented me twice.
And to think, it’s largely due to Gant Auclair’s help.
I need these auditions to be over with. Not just because I need a break from all the practice sessions before we gear up for rehearsals, but because I’ve been spending an insane amount of time with Gant. And that time’s blurring the rules of the game way too much.
I’m getting too comfortable with him and I’m hanging onto every word.
“I want you to be more than just my doll.”
I hadn’t brought it up again because honestly, I don’t think I want to know.
I don’t want to get confused and that must be what he’s trying to do. Confuse me.
Just like Mum. Every time I call her, there’s background noise. Guitar riffs, clinking tankards, shooting pool balls and the wind as she slips outside to pretend she’s somewhere else but right up the street from me.
I haven’t confronted her. Each time I called, because she hasn’t been calling me, I’d hoped the phase would’ve passed. I’d hope to hear meat slicers and cargo trucks and Pearline yelling, “Swiss with honey ham on a rye, Jaime!”
Lately, we hadn’t been calling at all. Just texting. Short little quick messages where she could pretend to be home. Or at work. Or anywhere but just up the street.
“For fuck’s sake Elle, please go to sleep now,” Stassi says from her bed, squinting at me in the moonlight. “You’re going to put a hole in the floor if you keep spinning.”
I expect Aria to chime in with a retort too, but lately, she’s been painfully quiet. Keeping her head buried in her computer or beneath the covers.
“Sorry,” I say, then wince as I collapse on my bed. I need a minute before I can even bend down to take my pointe shoes off. I do take out my headphones, however. If I had to listen to Cinderella’s soundtrack one more time my ears would start to bleed.
The moment my head hits the pillow, my phone lights up with a text message.
It’s not a pep message from Mum wishing me luck on the auditions tomorrow. To be honest, I don’t think she remembers.
Open the left compartment of your gym bag.
I’m about to type. Who is this? But then I realise the number’s already saved in my phone as Your Grace. I roll my eyes and reach for my gym bag that’s peeking out from beneath my bed. Once I manage to unzip it with fingers that barely want to cooperate from sheer exhaustion, I pull out the last thing I could ever expect.
A little Gant doll. The kind where the heads are too big for the body and the face only has round eyes. No nose and no mouth. The hair’s made of fine black yarn, and the back’s buzzed off just like Gant’s undercut. Its naked body is soft like cashmere and the same pale colour as Gant’s skin. Thankfully, it doesn’t have a penis or nipples, though a bit of stitching in the rounded stomach that showcases an impressive set of pillowy abs.
Damn, I hate how fucking cute it is as I stare into its far-apart black eyes and a smile tugs at my lips.
My phone pings again.
Your Grace: I’m turning into a rag doll. Just like you. If I stay like this, I’ll stop cracking. You’ll be able to do whatever the fuck you want to me, and I won’t splinter anymore. I won’t shatter.
Yes, it has to be sheer exhaustion because why do tears prick at my eyes?
Another ping.
Your Grace:When you slept in my arms, like my little doll, I didn’t have any more nightmares that night. You didn’t have any either. Maybe because I’m your little doll too.
More eye prickling. More sniffling.
Your Grace: So sleep with me tonight and don’t have any nightmaresand I’ll do the same.
A picture of Gant sleeping with a little Elle doll with long red yarn hair, and spreadeagle on his face, pops up. The tip of his wet tongue is curled between the legs.
For a second, I think he’s wearing a salt and pepper ushanka, and then I realise it has eyes. Zoi. He’s curled along the top of Gant’s pillow, his belly covering half of Gant’s head.
It’s just my tiredness making me feel sentimental.
Yes…it’s definitely not the fact that Gant’s officially become someone to me.
I lay down and snap a picture too, of a doll Gant beside me on my pillow, his little hand on my cheek, and my lips pressed against his. Then I send it before drifting off into a sleep almost as peaceful as the one I had in the greenhouse that night.
I forget about Mum.
I forget about ballet and the auditions.
And I don’t have any nightmares.
Just sweet dreams of Gant Auclair.
* * *
Hadn’t I just been saying how badly I want auditions to come and go? So why do I feel like I’m about to pass out now that they’re finally here?
I stand in the corner of the dance studio, my heart in my throat as I watch how technically accurate and light on her feet Rin is. But the more I watch her, the more I can see what Mistress means. Her lips are slightly pinched, her brows furrowed. She looks like she’s counting her steps rather than being immersed in the music and she barely makes eye contact with étienne because she’s too busy watching herself in the mirror instead.
This scene is meant to be romantic. It’s the first time Cinderella meets the prince at the ball. The first time in forever since she’s had a break from her responsibilities. Since she’s been dressed in anything other than rags. I know that feeling. That feeling of sheer butterflies at seeing the most handsome man in the room. That feeling of wearing clothes that aren’t scratchy or itchy or ill-fitting and finally feeling pretty. That feeling of the entire world melting away when it’s just him and I.
I look at Gant, who’s across the room with all the other boys. He’s staring at me, his eyes running up and down the pretty baby blue dance outfit Mum gifted me from the modest online wishlist I’d sent her. The sheer skirt is a bit longer than usual, embodying Cinderella’s gifted dress from her godmother so perfectly.
Lately, I can’t help but think that Gant is like a fairy godmother.
Because, with my bogus scholarship, and with each private dance lesson, he’s slowly making my dreams come true. In the most painful, humiliating, and sometimes pleasurable ways imaginable, but does that negate the fact that I’m right where I want to be? In this dance studio. In the advanced class. At Beaulieu participating in one of its productions I’ve been dreaming of since I was thirteen and knew the school existed.
No.
I pry my eyes from Gant and refocus on the dancing pair again. Rin should be enamoured with the prince, and he should be enamoured with her, yet étienne looks painfully bored, though far more relaxed. His eyes are as blank as the white walls in the studio. It doesn’t look like he’s trying at all. He’s going through the motions as if breezing down the grocery aisles.
When the music ends, Rin’s face breaks into a relieved smile. She attempts to raise her arms with étienne before bowing to the applause from her minions, but étienne lets go of her and goes back to the barre to wait beside Aria, who’s up next.
“Lovely,” Mistress says, apparently equally as bored. Then, she looks over at Bae. “Bae, you’re up with Aria.”
Aria brushes past étienne and takes Bae’s hand. Unlike Rin, she’s the epitome of relaxed. She dances effortlessly with a lightness to her feet I’m envious of. As Bae twirls her around, I feel like I’m seeing Cinderella coming alive before my very eyes. Honestly, I don’t know who’s prettier as they spin, a blur of glossy curls, and silky straight locks. Madame seems to think the same too because she watches the pair with a glow she hadn’t had with Rin and étienne.
In fact, everyone watches them with a glow.
I’d never seen Aria dance so beautifully.
“Look at me,” Gant’s voice whispers in my ear, and I jump. Hadn’t he been across the room just a minute ago?
I peel my eyes off the couple and turn my head sideways to look at him. He places a hand on my hip and spins me around to face him fully. “You’re psyching yourself out.”
“I’m not,” I lie, but my stomach audibly churns. It’s not hunger, but the result of too much acid bubbling. I hold my stomach and press my forehead against the cool mirror. I wanted to vomit, piss, shit and have my period all at once.
His hand slides over my chest, under my neckline, and over my thrashing heart. I should swat it away, but his warm touch relaxes me, as does his woodsy scent.
“You look beautiful in blue,” Gant says, stroking a hand down my bare spine and immediately I recoil from his touch even as my heart begs me to lean into it. Even as I want to melt from his words.
In private, I’d played the role of his little doll, allowing and welcoming every intimate moment, but lately, he’d been talking to me, touching me, in public and I don’t know why.
His kingdom doesn’t know that our relationship has shifted, and paused, and neither do I want them to know. Surprising them by exposing their king as a ginger-loving traitor is the only card I have left to draw, and lately, Gant’s public shift is weakening it. Sure our interlude meant the senior girls had backed off, but they don’t know what’s happening behind closed doors. That Gant’s trying to sleep with the enemy and I need it to remain a surprise. For now.
I try to shift away from him, but I don’t make it a step before he’s pulling on the strap of my leotard and dragging me back towards him. From the corner of my eye, I spot a few senior girls watching. Gawking. His touch is too gentle, too intimate to be bullying as he tugs on the neckline, his knuckles bruising my breast.
Quickly, I turn my back to them.
“It’s a little loose.” He notes, frowning at the baby blue fabric.
I swat his hand away. “I forgot to update the sizes on my wishlist before Mum bought me a few things.”
There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him that she won a scratcher.
Mum hadn’t answered my thank you text. In fact, she hadn’t contacted me at all since that day in the sex shop. But it’s normal for ‘single’ Mums who are going through a midlife crisis to go ghost for a while, right? I mean, that’s clearly what’s happening. Mum’s trying to reclaim her youth through nostalgia. That’s why she came all the way back into town, again, to visit the Water Hole, right? Sure, it was Jarett’s favourite bar, but she’d introduced him to it. It was her favourite first.
She’s just trying to reclaim some of that carefreeness she used to have now that Jarett and I are gone. That’s all…
Or that’s all I keep telling myself.
“So she did,” Gant says and I don’t know how to take it, given his lack of a tone.
I swear he despised Mum. But how can he when he doesn’t even know her?
He just knows what you told him, that annoying little inner voice coos in my ear.
Still, it’s not his place to worry about Jaime.
You worry about Bart. You have ever since Gant told you that his father keeps a portrait of his deceased mother in their home.
“Why did you need to change your sizes?” Gant asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.
I shrug. “I lost a little weight, that’s all.”
His frown deepens, and he grabs my wrist as I try to slide past him and watch Sylo’s audition.
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” I try to snap my wrist back, but he only holds me tighter. “You made sure I couldn’t eat in the hall.”
Sure the minions had backed off, but I hadn’t chanced a repeat, not when Zedd forced a ton of his cooking on Stassi who gave me damn near all of it. I’d probably be back to my normal size in a month so long as Zedd doesn’t find out who he’s actually feeding.
I have no idea what the other male untouchables think of me now, but after my experience with Hale and Bae before the lake debacle, I prefer to stay clear of them. Dealing with one jackass was more than enough.
I try to shift away from him, but I don’t make it a step before he’s pulling on the strap of my leotard and dragging me back towards him. From the corner of my eye, I spot a few senior girls watching. Gawking. His touch is too gentle, too intimate to be bullying as he tugs on the neckline, his knuckles bruising my breast.
Quickly, I turn my back to them.
“It’s a little loose.” He notes, frowning at the baby blue fabric.
I swat his hand away. “I forgot to update the sizes on my wishlist before Mum bought me a few things.”
There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him that she won a scratcher.
Mum hadn’t answered my thank you text. In fact, she hadn’t contacted me at all since that day in the sex shop. But it’s normal for ‘single’ Mums who are going through a midlife crisis to go ghost for a while, right? I mean, that’s clearly what’s happening. Mum’s trying to reclaim her youth through nostalgia. That’s why she came all the way back into town, again, to visit the Watering Hole, right? Sure, it was Jarett’s favourite bar, but she’d introduced him to it. It was her favourite first.
She’s just trying to reclaim some of that carefreeness she used to have now that Jarett and I are gone. That’s all…
Or that’s all I keep telling myself.
“So she did,” Gant says and I don’t know how to take it, given his lack of a tone.
I swear he despises Mum. But how can he when he doesn’t even know her?
He just knows what you told him, that annoying little inner voice coos in my ear.
Still, it’s not his place to worry about Jaime.
You worry about Bart. You have ever since Gant told you that his father keeps a portrait of Madame, deceased, in their home.
“Why did you need to change your sizes?” Gant asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.
I shrug. “I lost a little weight, that’s all.”
His frown deepens, and he grabs my wrist as I try to slide past him and watch Sylo’s audition.
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” I try to snap my wrist back, but he only holds me tighter. “You made sure I couldn’t eat in the hall.”
Sure, the minions had backed off, but I hadn’t chanced a repeat, not when Zedd forced a ton of his cooking on Stassi, who gave me damn near all of it. I’d probably be back to my normal size in a month so long as Zedd doesn’t find out who he’s actually feeding.
I have no idea what the other male untouchables think of me now, but after my experience with Hale and Bae before the lake debacle, I prefer to stay clear of them. Dealing with one jackass was more than enough.
Gant says nothing, but his jaw ticks and as he regresses somewhere deep into his own fucked up little brain, I concentrate on the auditions again.
But with every new student who performs, my anxiety that I hoped would naturally fall with the long wait and inevitable boredom of watching for over an hour only rises.
“Breathe,” Gant says in my ear.
I listen, taking big breaths in and out. So deeply I feel lightheaded and lean into him despite myself.
“That’s a good girl,” he says lowly. “Don’t worry about Aria or Benoit. Don’t think about anyone at all, except me. On that floor, I’m your partner. Your Prince Charming—”
“You really think there’s anything charming about you?” Damn, I was trying to stop being so snippy with him all the time, seeing as he’s actually been so helpful lately, but old habits die hard.
“And you’re my—” he continues ignoring me.
“Poor maid girl full of ashes, don’t remind me.”
His eyes go wide for a fraction of a second as if that thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. How could it not? My whole arc of coming to Beaulieu was a Cinderella story. Gant was my fairy godmother. No, not a fairy, more like a Grim Reaper.
“No,” he says, his fingers stroking over my heart, coaxing it to slow down. “My princess.”
Those little words shatter the ice building up around my heart and calm my stomach when he moves his hand down to mine and threads our fingers together.
Be still my stupid beating heart.
“Is that what you wanted to ask me in the spring?” I ask after a long pause, when my throat is so dry I feel like it’ll ignite from speaking without spit.
“Elle? Gant?” Madame calls and I suddenly realise the music has ended. “I said you’re up next.”
I allow Gant to lead me onto the floor.
“Remember. It’s just us. It’s always just us.”
Just us.
“I’m your prince. You’re in love with me. Love at first sight.”
“Are you trying to get me in the zone or hypnotise me?” I whisper back as the music starts and we begin the waltz.
“Is it working?”
Yes. As I stare deeply into his black eyes, I can feel them sucking me in. Every time I turn, pirouette, or jete away from him, I’m eager to return, to keep that eye contact.
He’s my bully.
My pain.
My flame.
And when he kisses me I melt into his embrace.
When we come to a standstill, and the music ends, it takes me a second to realise it. It takes me a second to realise that Gant’s brushing his lips against mine when he turns his back to the crowd. And I return his kiss.
“I know you don’t want to let go,” Gant whispers in my ear. “But the dance is over.”
I blink and the spell breaks, propelling me back into the classroom with Madame, whose raised eyebrows and smug grin says she appreciated the routine at the very least.
Face flaming, I hide behind Bae and ignore Aria’s smirk. Gant stands behind me so close that his chest is pressed against my back. I want to tell him to back up, but the truth is his warmth was keeping my heart beating.
“I think we can all agree that there’s no need to wait until tomorrow for my announcement. The selection was as clear to me as the sky is today.”
What? I’m not mentally prepared for this. I thought I had at least twelve agonising hours ahead of me.
“I think we can all agree that Gant will be our prince with Sylo, serving as his understudy.”
Polite claps echo around the room. No one’s shocked by that.
“Elle,” Madame begins.
My stomach soars and flips over.
“You danced excellently. I felt like I was at the ball, fully costumed, watching two lovers. The chemistry between you two is immaculate.”
So other people could see it? Could feel it too? It isn’t just in my head?
“Because of that, you’ll be Aria’s understudy.”
What?
Gant’s arms lock around my waist as if he knows my knees will give out. I don’t even have the strength to shove him away. To care that everyone can see us. No. This isn’t just about being Gant’s princess for a night though if I allowed myself to admit it, it was a major part of it.
If I was the understudy, I’d miss the scouts altogether.
“Aria?” Rin balks. “Aria won the part?”
“Yes dear,” Mistress says. “You’ve also earned a pivotal role. You’ll be the wicked stepmother.”
Rin’s dark skin ashens, her eyes wide and ready to burst from the sockets. “The stepmother?”
“She’s cold and frigid, and you emulate those characteristics in your dancing with shocking accuracy.”
The breath Rin lets out draws concern from Mistress.
“Please don’t give yourself an aneurysm in my classroom,” Mistress says, peering at Rin over the edge of her glasses. “It’s far too much paperwork on my end. Why don’t you go outside to get some air?”
With a swish of their ponytails, both Kesia and Rin venture out. Through the window, Rin is stomping her foot and screeching like a toddler, though no sound permeates the studio.
I feel like joining her, but instead of screaming, I feel like crying, and then I feel nothing at all as numbness spreads from my aching toes still stuffed in my pointe shoes to my head that’s grown too heavy to hold up. So I lay it on Aria’s shoulders as I congratulate her with a hug, hiding my face from Gant and the world in her fluffy, soft hair.
The magic I’d felt just seconds before with Gant is gone and reality has settled back in.
I’d lost.
I wouldn’t be Gant’s princess after all.