32. Rya
32
RYA
I’m in the backstage warm-up room when one of the girls in my ballet class, Dana, the pretty redhead who’s set to perform in a modern dance duet toward the end of the program, hurries over to me. “Rya, I’m glad I found you before you went on. Hazel asked me to bring you a message.”
My entire body stills, and a cold feeling slithers into my stomach, worming its way around until I place a hand there, hoping to stop the sensation. “Um, okay.”
Dana smiles brightly at me, but then her lips tug into a sad pout. “So, I guess she had some trouble earlier. Something about getting locked out of your room and some mess with a guy?” She frowns, the words she’s delivering sounding almost as if she’s questioning the information she’s relaying. “Oh, and she said she knows you’re mad at her, but she wants to fix things before you both perform today. Clear the air or something, I guess?” Trapping her lower lip between her teeth, she shrugs. “It’s none of my business, but she seemed pretty upset. Anyway, she asked if I’d find you, tell you all that, and let you know that she’d be waiting outside the ladies’ room.”
I open my mouth but am stumped by how to respond without sounding like I’m the world’s worst friend and roommate. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Sure.” She reaches out to me, patting my shoulder. “I hope you two can sort things out. Okay, gotta run. Keith is waiting on me.” She takes off at a lope, her strides long and graceful as she dodges the few remaining dancers trying to keep themselves warm for their performances.
Okay, that was really weird . I’d overheard how she had to go back to the dorm for some reason, so I presume if she’d been locked out it’s because she’d forgotten her keys. Honestly, I didn’t ask for more information when I heard a couple dancers talking about it because I can’t simply forget what she said about me to Millie… or any of the other quietly devious comments she’s made over the course of the semester so far.
I exhale hard. Fuck . Am I the bitch because I don’t want to talk to her? My eyes crash shut. Well, I’m not going to have this hanging over my head. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I know I have about fifteen minutes before I’m on. Millie was able to give us a schedule based on each dancer’s piece of music. I take a deep breath, then blow it all out in frustration. It hasn’t felt good to shut Hazel out. But I also don’t know a better way to handle her antics right now. I’d been trying to preserve my peace before this performance, but… Okay. Fine . I’ll go talk to her.
Out in the hallway, I glance up and down, not seeing my supposed friend anywhere. A second later, though, she appears as the door to the bathroom opens. She lifts a hand, giving me a little wave, then beckons me closer with a tip of her head to a spot farther down the hall.
When I join her, she awkwardly smiles at me through clenched teeth. “Sorry, I was trying to get as far away from the entrance to the stage as possible while staying close enough to hear if someone calls for us.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, my eyes scanning over her face. She’s obviously been crying and fixed her makeup to hide it. My stomach twists uncomfortably. “Okay. What did you want to talk about?” I grip the metal banister to my left, hanging onto it for support as she wipes her sweaty palms on the black high-waisted boy shorts that are part of her jazz costume. My eyes travel over the rest of her outfit. I’ve never seen her wear this one. The top is black to match, a cropped halter-style with mesh across her chest and up to the collar at her neck. And, of course, jazz shoes. It’s cute. I gesture to the outfit. “Is that what you went back to the dorm for?”
“Oh, you heard about that?” Hazel presses her red-painted lips together. “I totally missed packing the top when I threw things in my bag this morning. Then when I went back for it, like a bonehead, I forgot my keys.” She wrinkles her nose, taking a deep breath as she bobs her head. “Forget that for a sec. First, I get that you’re pissed at me.” She meets my eyes, fluttering her lashes. “I wasn’t thinking in class the other day. I’m really sorry about what I said in front of Millie. She doesn’t need to know you have food issues. I should have had your back, and I’m sorry.” She shrugs, her tone almost flippant. Uncaring. “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
So much for the apology. That was the biggest non apology I’ve ever received. Floored, I bite out, “No, you weren’t thinking at all.”
And before I can continue, she rushes forward, hands palm out. “But it’s fine. Because you’re still here, dancing. Millie didn’t take it away from you, even though I thought she might.”
I blink at her, not quite able to believe what continues to spew from her mouth. What the fuck? Thought she might… as in hoped she might? My eyes narrow on her. Surely I’m misinterpreting what she’s saying. I wet my lips. “I’m sorry, what?” I work my jaw to the side and glance back toward the door that leads to the stage. I’m not getting myself worked up over this right before my performance. I can’t. I won’t fuck this up—correction, won’t let her fuck this up.
As if she senses I’m getting pissed, Hazel’s lips twist into something sour. She draws in an exaggerated breath, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know, I wish I had the luck in the boyfriend department that you seem to be having. Who knew you’d go from a prissy virgin to banging not one but two hot guys in a matter of weeks?”
I practically choke on my tongue as my eyes bug out. She’s not wrong, but…
Hazel taps the pad of her finger to her lower lip, seemingly unfazed by my reaction, her eyes narrowing. “I wonder if that’s where you’ve been these last few days… shacking up with both? I think yes.”
Shell-shocked, I can’t do anything but stare at her, gape mouthed, as my stomach flips and chills run down my spine. All the blood in my head drains from my face at her mocking words and the thinly veiled threat in her tone.
Hazel’s nose wrinkles, studying me. “Oh, come on. Just answer.” She holds out a hand. “Wait. I’ll make it easy for you. Blink once for yes, twice for no.” The shrewd look in her eye tells me she knows exactly where I was, but for some reason wants me to say it.
I work my jaw to the side. Well, fuck that. “I owe you nothing, Hazel.”
Appraising me carefully, she gets this odd gleam in her eyes. “Come to think of it—I bet that’s highly frowned upon by the university. I think someone probably needs to clue them in.” She lets loose with what I can only call a hysterical cackle. “Jaxon’s gotta be the worst RA ever.”
My throat goes dry, and the nasty flash in her eyes finally shows me her true colors. She doesn’t care about me at all. Worse, she’s definitely threatening me—and the people I love.
Her brow arches. “No comment, huh? Well, you might want to know this, too. You know, if we’re being honest with each other. Um. Yeah—the real reason I wanted to talk to you? Logan? He’s not loyal to you. He’s not yours. Never was. He’s mine.”
I blink. The words coming out of her mouth don’t even make sense. “You’re fucking deranged, you know that?” I shake my head, carefully laughing so she can’t see my upset.
“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you? But go ahead. Ask him yourself. You know him well enough to know if he’s lying, right?” She shrugs and takes a deep breath, smiling at me in a way that really creeps me out. “We’d better get backstage. You’re up next, I think.”
I stare at her, a shudder running through me that has nothing to do with whether or not I think Logan is a loyal friend and everything to do with the fact that I could swear my roommate has had some sort of psychotic break. “You go on ahead. I’ll be there in a second.” Her perception of reality is so far skewed, it’s scary.
“Oh, and best of luck with your performance, Rya. Break a leg out there. Or… maybe right here.”
Out of nowhere, she lunges at me, both hands hitting me solidly in the chest hard enough that the banister at the top of the stairwell is wrenched free of my grip. One second, I’m upright.
The next second, I’m flying through nothing.