Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
OLIVIA
“Again!”
Olivia’s muscles hummed with the warmth of a good workout. They were thirty minutes into the rehearsal, but her unease about being back in a professional ballet studio hadn’t gone away.
It felt weird, she realized. She’d loved dancing from the minute the music started playing, but there was an uneasiness at being among the dancers.
Like when animals pinned their ears back right before they bit.
Don’t be silly; it’s just your nerves.
“And then you come in,” the artistic director said, beelining in a fast walk through three dancers who looked at her with bored faces. “And then present—ah,” the director said, facing the audience. “And then… we begin.”
“Sure.” She nodded, following his direction.
“Let’s look at your costume.” She’d brought her tutu with her from home since she was a different height and size than Henri’s partner.
She rolled down the zipper of her garment bag and pulled it out. “Ah, beautiful.” The director nodded approvingly. “Who made?”
“Oh, I mean, I took an existing one and, you know, added flair to it.” I do love a bedazzler.
“Perfect.”
They went onto the stage. It was a beautiful, old, ornate theater dating back to the nineteenth century.
She looked up into the balcony and tried to forget just how many people would be staring at her.
The uneasiness lessened as she walked onto the stage. Just her, and three thousand of her closest friends.
They’d done a quick run-through of her solo, which none of them were worried about. It was the duet that she, Henri, and the director were nervous about.
Their pas de deux was a two-person, intricate dance, full of lifts and trust between partners. She was grateful she had five years of rehearsals with Henri under her belt.
I just wish they weren’t two years ago.
Henri marked his routine, showing where they would hit in key points around the stage.
“It’s going to be great, okay?” he said with a hopeful smile.
“Yes.” She did some quick moves from the Sugar Plum solo to get a sense of the grit of the stage against her toe shoes. She’d broken these shoes in the best she could, beating them against the cement wall outside the dressing room, but they still needed just a little bit more.
She fiddled with her toes in her shoe, getting the cotton padding just so.
The director queued up the music. He stood to the side on stage. “Let’s take it from the back half, where the lifts start. From the greet into the shoulder lift.”
Getting the timing right on the lifts would be the most important thing to nail. Her footwork could be sloppy, but no one wanted a Sugar Plum dropped on the ground.
The music started, and Olivia did her run-up to where she would jump and twist in midair so she would land facing out on Henri’s shoulder.
It was a complicated lift to seat right, and though she jumped, his hand fumbled, and he grasped at her hip, and they gently came out of it, not able to hold the move.
The director turned off the music. “Again.”
“Sorry,” they both said with an embarrassed laugh to each other. Henri wiped his hand over his face.
“You’ve been eating extra Halloween candy.” He laughed, a kind smile reaching his eyes. A pit formed in her stomach, and she laughed like it was a reflex.
And then swallowed it as she caught her breath.
No. Not anymore.
“Your hand slipped, actually.” She said it kindly but firmly.
Henri registered her frustration. “Oh, my normal partner is lighter. That’s all,” he said, laughing nervously, trying to smooth things over.
What did she have to lose? She wasn’t staying here. She didn’t need to be agreeable.
They needed her.
She gulped. “I’d rather you not compare my body to hers again,” she said, her heart beating fast, the most nerve-wracking thing she’d done all day.
Not doing fifteen fouettés in a row, not walking into a room full of people who didn’t want her there, but standing up for herself.
Henri’s face was full of genuine, surprised concern. “Oh. Olivia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’ll do better, I promise.”
She smiled faintly. “Thanks,” she said, forgiving him. His comment was a love tap in comparison to the truly heinous comments she’d heard as a professional dancer.
It’s just been a while since someone has made me feel bad about myself, that’s all.
It hit her like an iron glove in the face.
She’d forgotten that this… this feeling had been normal.
Feeling bad about myself was just… normal.
The realization thundered through her body, zooming through every nerve ending at how good she’d felt before she’d come in.
How different it felt being in a place like this that wanted to keep her small.
Figuratively. Literally. Hungry for praise, for scraps of attention, and sometimes, yes, for Halloween candy.
She liked being in a place where she felt good about herself every day. Where everyone she talked to, Luca, AB, her mom, Lily, made her feel like the best version of herself.
“Again,” the director called as Olivia walked back to the place to reset for another try at the lift. She felt a little taller, walking back to her spot.
Fuller.
They nailed the lift in the next take and finished the back half of the duet. They ran through it all again and again, finally doing two full run-throughs where everything worked out.
They took a five-minute break, and she went to grab water. She checked her phone, hunching over her bag as she caught her breath.
A video came through from Luca of Annabelle saying, “Break a leg!” with her cheesiest smile.
She’d said good night to both of them quickly last night, needing to get her head in the game immediately after dinner. The husky laugh from Luca recording the video was her favorite sound.
LUCA
How are things going?
We’re thinking about you.
You’re going to crush it today.
She sighed, looking at the letters on the screen. And to think he used to just type K.
“Places in two.”
Jesus, she forgot how strict everything was. No time to type with her fingers shaking from the adrenaline.
She hit record to send an audio clip, talking into her phone. “Oh, my gosh. AB is the cutest thing ever. Now I’m definitely going to do a great job. It’s been tough, but I’m feeling really good. I can’t wait to tell you about it. And I miss you. Is that weird to say?” She laughed.
“Places!”
“Oh shoot, I’ve got to go. I love you, bye!”
She sent the audio clip and tossed the phone into her bag.
She walked two steps to rehearsal before a full-body panic gripped her.
“Fuck!”
She dove for her phone, tapping furiously on the audio message to delete.
“Why isn’t the menu coming up? Why isn’t the menu coming up?” she panicked.
She called Luca immediately.
“Olivia, let’s go!” Henri called.
“One second!”
“Hey, everything okay?” Luca’s low, rumbling voice coming through her phone felt like velvet.
She waved at the new flop sweat under her arms. “Hey, real quick, uh… no big deal, but… could you delete that audio note before you listen to it?”
“...Why?” he said with confusion.
“I, um…” She gulped. Actually, I said I love you at the exact wrong time. “Uh… I farted really bad. It’s very embarrassing.”
A roaring laugh sounded in her ear, and she bit her lip, loving him even more. “I mean, most things you do are cute. Are you sure it wasn’t cute?”
“Look, I have to go, please, just please promise me?”
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—
A laugh rumbled out of him. “I promise I won’t play it when we hop off. Go break some toe shoes.”
“All right. Thanks.” Don’t say I love you. “Bye.”
And suddenly, a new wave of things to be nervous about gripped her body, and she hustled to the stage to do one last run-through.
* * *
LUCA
Luca gaped at the enormous, old-ass theater as he and Annabelle sat down in velvet, cushioned seats.
Annabelle’s jaw had dropped when they’d entered the lobby.
Every piece of trim was lined with tinsel or evergreen, and the lobby ceiling reflected back a gold-frosted version of themselves.
Life-size prop nutcrackers stood around the lobby.
Giant snowflakes and sugar plums were dotted around the merch tables.
They’d both been flabbergasted that this was what ballet could be.
They were seated in the nosebleed section, behind Martha and Pop, who sat beside Wells with his long legs stretched out into the aisle.
“Oh, I’m so nervous,” Martha tittered, wiggling about. Pop patted her hand, and Wells clenched his jaw as he typed furiously on his phone.
They’d all decided to get tickets secretly so they wouldn’t make Olivia more nervous. The season had already started to sell out, and they didn’t want to promise her they could be there if they weren’t able to scrounge up tickets.
Annabelle bounced up and down hard in her seat, flopping shiny patent leather shoes back and forth.
She’d worn her sparkliest dress—it was a little too short on her, Luca realized now—with her pink ballet tights.
Pearl had come over to put her hair in a pretty updo.
She’d wanted to look pretty for Olivia’s special night.
He pulled Annabelle up into his lap to talk to her. She was still too jazzed. “This is like a test at school for Olivia. She has to concentrate. Okay?” he said, squeezing her to him.
“And we can’t yell,” Annabelle said. They’d practiced that last part for an hour and a half in the car. “And we can’t dance.”
“That’s right.” He kissed the top of her head. Originally, she’d wanted to wear her ballet leotard today. Her reasoning had been flawless—why wouldn’t she wear her ballet outfit to the ballet? But he’d had to clarify that there was no dancing involved for her tonight.
The lights dimmed, and Annabelle sat on his lap in awe. He felt the same childlike wonder he saw on her face as the colorful, bright ballet unfolded.
Luca’s heart was in his throat as he followed along with the program, waiting for Olivia’s numbers.