Chapter 14 Luca
By the fifth week of training, we were smashing it.
I had mastered all the basic skills needed for the show’s first few performances, and we had finalized our choreography for Musicals week. Some areas like the two lifts and the skating-together section still needed polishing, but we had the rest of the week to perfect them.
Matilda and I had settled into a routine.
Although I offered brief answers, Matilda never stopped chattering.
Pointless facts about her littered my short-term memory: she dreamed of visiting Greece, loved folk music—especially the “ding-y guitar,” as she put it—and preferred Diet Coke over Pepsi Max, along with other random shit I really didn’t need to know.
She’d pester me with questions, too, and I hoped that my short answers would deter her.
They didn’t. I found myself begrudgingly telling her what I thought was the best way to eat a KitKat.
And that, no, I didn’t like pineapple on pizza—this won me a ten-minute monologue about why pineapple did, in fact, belong on pizza.
And yes, I agreed that a Jaffa Cake was obviously a cookie and not a cake—I’d learned by that point it was probably best to agree with her or else risk a culinary analysis of cake/cookie definitions.
Despite everything, I was starting to enjoy her company.
Her cheeriness and kindness never faltered, and while her fake act frustrated me, I started to get the impression it was exactly that—an act.
One that she used as protection, and perhaps not with malicious intent like I’d originally thought.
Sometimes, when I watched her talking to others, I caught her smiling with her mouth and not her eyes.
I saw the way that when she thought no one was looking, her face would drop.
She looked…tired. Like she was keeping the peace because she didn’t know how to do anything else.
—
On the Friday morning of our fifth training week, I entered the reception area, ignoring others and looking for a blond ponytail and oversized sweatshirt.
As the show loomed, the studio had gotten busier, with celebrities and their partners squeezing in as much practice as possible.
It was somewhat quieter that morning, as we had the press event later in the evening.
Most of the partners had taken the day off, but we’d opted to stick to our practice routine.
The press event would be the first time I’d see Matilda in anything other than her tiny gym attire or a baggy hoodie. She was annoyingly beautiful when she made no effort; I dreaded to think how breathtaking she’d look all dressed up.
I couldn’t spot her, nor could I hear her lulling voice, which had become too familiar over the past five weeks.
I didn’t particularly care what she was up to, but I had her coffee in my hand, and it would be a waste for it to go cold.
There was no chance she wasn’t here yet; Matilda always arrived first and left last.
Searching the space again and coming up empty, I headed toward our dressing room.
We’d ended up spending quite a lot of time there watching recordings of our training and dances from previous seasons.
Matilda had also started showing me her favorite performances, her face lighting up as we watched, and I found her genuine joy was infectious—annoyingly so.
Approaching the almost-closed door, I hesitated, wondering if she was changing. Not wanting to intrude, I paused, listening. Her laughter reached me through the door.
“I know, I know. It’s one of those things, though, isn’t it?” she said.
I stepped closer.
No one replied, but she laughed again.
So she was either conversing with an inanimate object (which honestly wouldn’t have surprised me) or was likely on the phone. I considered walking away but stopped when I heard my name.
“Luca’s fine,” she grumbled, the sound almost muffled by her scuffing feet. Silence for a few seconds, and then, “All right, all right. He’s got better from his original arsehole-y attitude.”
I should have left, but it wasn’t the time to suddenly reconcile my moral compass.
She groaned, sounding genuinely frustrated. “OK, so maybe he hasn’t. Save for the odd conversation, he barely talks to me. I honestly don’t know how anyone has worked with him in the past. It’s infuriating, and I’m sure my hair’s falling out from the stress. Is that what you want to hear, Lils?”
I knew it.
I crushed the small ache her words caused in my chest. I had no right to be hurt by them, as I had been purposefully riling her up. But I could be pissed.
I knew she’d been pretending my attitude didn’t bother her, when it did.
The blatant deceit infuriated me.
“Do you even know me?” She laughed again. “And what’s the point? It won’t change anything…Yeah, I guess…Yeah, me too. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.”
I should have stuck to my gut feeling all those weeks ago. I’d let her so easily saunter in and throw a few smiles my way, and look where that had gotten me. The studio suddenly felt colder than it had moments ago, and I exhaled slowly, forcing my shoulders to drop.
I stared at the door, weighing my options. Should I confront her? Or pretend I hadn’t heard anything? In the end, my anger over her deceit made up my mind.
I waited a minute before I tapped my knuckle on the door and announced, “Incoming.”
“Come in,” she chimed, cheerily. I surveyed the room quickly, and it looked the same as every other time—bright, feminine, and completely Matilda. She sat on the sofa, cross-legged. She tilted her head, a smile gracing her face when she spotted me.
I placed her coffee on the table, her eyes shining with gratitude. I sat on the other sofa, leaning against the soft leather.
“Thank you so much. I really need this today.” She wrapped both hands around the mocha with cream—her favorite—and took a large sip.
I nodded and flicked on the TV. It opened on one of her performances from the previous year. The title revealed it was week six, the furthest she’d ever gotten.
“Did you like skating with Jay?” I asked, referring to her partner from that year, my eyes remaining fixed on the TV. I thought he was famous from starring in some sort of soap opera.
“Yeah, he was nice, actually. Very friendly and just wanted to do well.”
“Why do you think you didn’t go further with him?”
“I think there were just a lot of good celebrities last year. Jay wasn’t bad, but others were better. It’s the way it is sometimes.”
“And me?” Her head snapped to me.
“And you what?”
“Do you like skating with me? Do you think we’ve got a chance?” I asked the two questions together, assuming a nonchalant tone and hoping she’d answer them honestly. I willed my heart to stop racing. You don’t care what she thinks of you, Luca.
“Of course I like skating with you. I hope we’ve got a chance; we just won’t know until we see the others next week.”
“So you don’t care that we aren’t friends? Or that we won’t have any good content for the cutaways?”
“Not at all. It’s your decision at the end of the day. I’m happy with our teamwork.”
A blatant lie.
Just moments ago, she’d said the opposite. It ultimately confirmed everything I thought about her. I couldn’t figure out why she was so eager to pretend everything was OK, but did it matter? She’d lied to me.
I had been antagonizing her, but I’d thought we’d come to some sort of truce the other week when I’d told her about my mom.
But now she reminded me so much of Nancy, reminded me of the deceit, the fallout, the career I’d lost. Nancy had been too amenable, flexible, and happy to go with the flow.
And she’d ended up blackmailing me. For some unknown reason, Matilda’s lies grated on me more than even Nancy’s had, leaving an annoying ache in my chest.
Anger surged within me, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to control it.
I’d had enough.