EPILOGUE
Bianca
Five minutes earlier…
“Bianca Jones and Eve Lawson, you’re up next.”
I nodded to the woman with the clipboard as those dumb butterflies took flight in my stomach. She was one of the Juilliard judges and it wouldn’t do to let her see my nerves. Let the rest of these clowns be unprofessional; I would be the epitome of calm, cool, and collected.
Fake it ‘til you make it. That was one of the first life lessons I’d ever learned and it had always served me well. None of the other students here seemed to get that. They were so quick to show their hand, to whisper and giggle with one another about how excited they were or how nervous they felt.
Amateurs, the lot of them.
“Bianca,” Eve prompted, as if I hadn’t heard. I’d heard, I just refused to rush. I wasn’t a dog who came when someone whistled. I was a professional, which in this world meant one thing—I was a prima ballerina.
Or at least, I would be.
The lady with the clipboard was watching me with obvious impatience and I gave her my most ingratiating smile. “Coming,” I said as I shrugged off the sweatshirt that had been keeping my muscles warm and loose.
The clipboard lady softened at the smile. They all did. Smiles, like words, were weapons to be wielded, and I’d figured out a long time ago that if you used them sparingly and wisely, smiles could be effective.
I knew what all the other dancers said about me. They thought I was cold, heartless…maybe I was. But I knew what they didn’t.
Nice got you nowhere.
Confidence was key.
But none of that meant anything without drive. The will to succeed. I followed the Juilliard rep with Eve prancing excitedly next to me. “Can you believe it?” she whispered. “Juilliard.”
Her voice was filled with awe and reverence.
I ignored her. I didn’t have time for chit-chat. I needed every ounce of my attention and focus centered on one thing.
My audition.
This was it. The moment I’d been training for my entire life.
“Are your parents in the audience?” Eve continued. “Mine are.”
I shot her a sidelong glare that I hoped would shut her up. I usually didn’t mind Eve. But then again, she was usually quiet.
Apparently nerves made her chatty.
Lucky me.
“Did they come to cheer you on?” Eve continued.
I let out a loud exasperated sigh of impatience. Had my parents come? Of course not. They didn’t believe in coddling, and I didn’t need hand holding. I worked better when I was alone, and my family knew that.
“Mine are watching,” Eve said.
“How nice for you,” I said in a monotone voice that expressed clearly just how little I cared about Eve or her family. And why should I? Eve, like every other girl in this school, was competition. End of story.
“Bianca, you’ll go first,” the assistant said as she held open the door to the auditorium. “Eve, you’ll wait here with me.”
“Break a leg,” Eve hissed as I walked into the room.
I kept my eyes on center stage, not giving in to the temptation to look at the scouts or the parents and friends who weren’t here for me. Most of these people were hoping I’d fail. If I did, then maybe one of their darling daughters would win the coveted spot.
I tilted my chin up high as I climbed the short flight of stairs and headed into the spotlight.
I focused on those haters, on their ill-will. Competitiveness was a better way to focus my energy than being nervous or worrying about what the recruiters saw when they watched me go into my opening stance.
The lights were blinding me as the first strains of music came from the speaker. My inner metronome turned one as I counted out the beats, readying myself for the routine that I could now do in my sleep.
One, and two, and three, and start…
A ballerina in a music box—that was what my first teacher had compared me to back when I’d first started. She’d meant it as a compliment and it was what I envisioned every time I danced. A beautiful, porcelain figurine moving with precise movements in perfect synchronicity with the music.
One, and two, and three…
Perfection. My movements were perfection. I knew it. I could feel it. All the intensive training these last few weeks had been worth it because my movements were effortless and graceful and—
Pop! My ankle seemed to tear in two. Pain scorched through my leg and I lost my balance. I swallowed a scream of agony just before it left my lips, but it was too late to recover the moment.
I fumbled with the next step as sweat broke out along my forehead and all the blood seemed to rush from my head to my feet.
No, this could not be happening.
Through the music I heard voices, murmurs of concern as I tried to resume where I’d left off.
My stupid ankle wouldn’t let me. The pain was unbearable whenever I placed weight on it.
No! Not now. This could not be happening.
Air was coming in short gasps as I tried to breathe through the pain. I couldn’t get enough oxygen, but I was so close to the finish. If I could just make it through—
Someone leapt onto the stage.
What the… Was that…
“Ryan?” His name came out on a rush of air as shock made me still. I couldn’t even pretend to continue dancing when Ryan stalked toward me. His normal smirk was gone. His brow was furrowed in concern as he strode across the stage.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He leaned down. “Come on, princess, let’s get you out of here.”
“No,” I said through gritted teeth. I was horrified to discover tears were streaking down my cheeks. I swiped at them and then turned them on him, smacking his chest as he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.
The pain was temporarily forgotten as he swept one arm under my knees so he was cradling me in his arms. “Stop it,” I screeched.
He didn’t listen.
“I can’t stop,” I said. Even I could hear the panic in my voice, but honestly…he was ruining everything. “Put me down right now.”
“You’re hurt,” he said.
He looked down at me and for a second I forgot to breathe. For a heartbeat, I forgot my anger and panic and the pain that was making my whole leg throb. His eyes were so dark with emotion, so filled with concern…
For me.
No one had ever looked at me like that.
Then he started walking off stage and I finally came to my senses. “Put me down!” I was shrieking like a harpy but I didn’t care. This was it. This was my moment. And he was ruining everything. “Put me down, you idiot. I have to finish.”
He didn’t respond until we were out of the auditorium and back in a studio that was dark and deserted. “It’s over, Bianca.”
I realized I was still smacking his shoulders, pounding on his back as he set me down gently on the floor.
His voice was quiet in my ear. “It’s over.”
“No.” I shook my head, glaring up at him as he reached for his phone.
“You need a doctor,” he said, ignoring my protest.
“I don’t need a doctor, I need to finish my audition.” That panicky feeling was back because…oh holy crap, what had he done? I reached out and shoved him as hard as I could you. “You did this,” I sobbed through my tears. “You ruined everything.”
***