Chapter 14
Fourteen
THEN | SISK
Ispot Lou leaning against the wall near the water cooler, one hand braced like he needs it to stay upright. His hair is damp at the temples, his tank clinging to his back.
I walk over, trying to read his face before I say anything. “How was it?”
He lets out a panicky breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “Oh, you know. Nailed it.”
I look at him with my heart shattered in half.
He shakes his head, pushing off the wall. “Kidding. I rushed the combination, came out of the second turn early and couldn’t catch up.”
My stomach hardens. “Lou…”
“It’s fine,” he says quickly, already waving it off. “I kept going like nothing happened. I’m sure they loved that.” He gives me a smile, but it’s too tight, too fast to be real. “I felt it as soon as the music started,” he adds, quieter now. “Like I was already behind.”
I hate how familiar that feels.
I glance toward the stage doors.
“It’s the nerves. Your timing is solid.”
“Yeah,” he says, not really agreeing. “It got away from me.”
“I’m sorry, Lou.”
“Hey,” he adds, forcing it lighter, “one of us had to go in there and lower the expectations. I did you a favor.”
I huff a small breath. “That was very selfless of you.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugs. “Glad I could help.”
I reach out and squeeze his hand, quick, like if I hold on too long I might cry. “You’ll get another chance.”
He nods, but he’s not really listening. His eyes move past me, already somewhere else.
“They don’t need much,” he says. “Don’t give them a reason, Sisk.”
From somewhere down the hall, a name gets called.
Lou squeezes my fingers before letting go. “You’re not gonna mess it up,” he says. “You don’t do that.”
I want to believe him. I put my hands on my stomach and take a deep breath. I can do this.
“Hey!” Ivan’s voice comes from behind me.
I flinch. I try not to stare at his fingers, even though I notice them right away. I look at the flowers he’s holding instead. It’s a whole bouquet. Flowers aren’t cheap around here—flowers aren’t even normal here. I take them carefully. “Thank you, I—”
“You nervous?” he asks.
I set the bouquet beside my bag and go back to stretching, pretending my ribs aren’t vibrating.
“Actually… yeah. Terrified.”
The backstage room isn’t glamorous—just a long, narrow hallway behind the community auditorium where the academy scouts are borrowing space.
Someone left half-eaten crackers on a folding table beside a stack of worn-out toe tape.
Other dancers hover like dolls—warming up, whispering counts and doing the same stretches I am.
Everyone’s pretending they’re fine. No one is.
Because this isn’t just a dance test, it’s a ticket out of here.
Ivan watches me awkwardly.
“When I’m nervous,” he says, “I picture the worst thing that could happen.”
“That’s… helpful?”
He shrugs. “Then I ask myself—would I survive it? And every time, the answer is yes. So what’s the point in panicking?”
I blink. It’s stupid. It’s brilliant.
“Thanks,” I say, stretching deeper. “I needed that.”
The worst that can happen is I stay stuck in Tar City forever. And as bad as that sounds… I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. I could survive it, couldn’t I? Staying here, if it meant being near Jax? Pitfire! I want to slap myself. It was just a kiss, it meant nothing!
“Sisk Zaitseva?” someone calls from the hallway—mispronouncing my last name.
My pulse jumps. “That’s me,” I call back.
Ivan straightens. “Good luck.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to say ‘break a leg’?”
“Whoever came up with that was a sick person.”
Despite everything—my stomach unclenches as I walk out onto the worn stage.
Three people sit behind a long table with clipboards and blank faces. “Whenever you’re ready,” one of them says.
I turn and nod.
My song starts. The first note blooms through the space and my body remembers what my brain keeps forgetting: This is mine.
The floor is old and uneven and my foot slips once but I make it part of the movement—intentional, fluid, like I meant it. My lungs burn. My legs tremble. My heart hammers. And then something clicks, the world shuts up and there’s only the dance.
When the music ends, there’s no applause. One judge scribbles something. Another looks at me like she’s trying to decide if I’m worth the breath it takes to speak. Finally: “We’ll contact you.”
I nod, because that’s what people do when they don’t know if they’ve just been chosen or erased, and walk offstage.
“Sisk!” Millie pushes through first, arms already around me before I can fully see her. “You did so good!”
“I don’t know. They didn’t say anything.”
“They never do,” she says quickly, pulling back to look at me. “That’s normal. You looked amazing.”
Lou appears behind her, giving me a small smile. “You held it together,” he says. “Better than most.”
“High praise,” I smile.
“It is, actually.”
I almost laugh.
Ivan steps in last. He’s still holding himself too still, like he forgot what to do with his hands. His fingers flex at his sides, then stop. His eyes flick past me, toward the stage, then to the wall, then back again.
“You were amazing,” he says.
I smile. “Thanks.”
Millie is still talking, something about celebrating, about Mom, and Lou is adding something, but it all starts to blur together.
I notice Ivan isn’t looking at me anymore.
“Ivan?” I say.
His head tilts strangely. “I—” He doesn’t finish.
That’s when I see him. Jax. He’s leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, his eyes on me.
My heart skips a beat. “I’ll be right back.”
Millie frowns. “Where are you—”
“I’ll be right back,” I repeat, already stepping away.
I walk toward him.
“That was something,” Jax says, a smile pulling at his mouth.
I stop a few feet away. “What are you doing here?”
He pushes off the wall. “I was gonna take you out,” he says, glancing past me. “Celebrate. But looks like they got to you first. Can I pick you up tonight?”
“What?”
“My car’ll be outside.”
I glance back. Everyone is watching us now.
“I—” I hesitate. “I don’t know if—”
“Just be ready,” Jax says.
My stomach twists. “For what?”
“I’ve got something for you.”
I let out a small breath. “That’s not an answer.”
He shrugs, one shoulder lifting. “You’ll see. I’ll be there at seven.”
I glance back again. “Okay.”
Jax’s mouth shifts like he almost wants to say something else but he doesn’t. “I’ll be outside,” he says as he leaves.
I stand there replaying every word until they all rush to me.
Millie crosses her arms. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I say, too quickly.
Lou raises a brow and I notice Ivan is still looking at the doorway.
Millie narrows her eyes. “That didn’t look like nothing.”
Lou points at me. “Ignore her. You were good. That’s what matters.”
I nod, but I’m not really here anymore.
* * *
I don’t even know what to think. The leather sticks to the back of my legs, cool at first, then suffocating, while the AC blasts straight into my face.
Ronny sits in the driver’s seat—tall, neatly pressed, posture so straight it looks practiced.
His suit isn’t expensive, just immaculate.
He keeps his hands steady on the wheel, eyes forward, not out of disinterest but out of respect, like he’s giving us privacy without ever stopping his watch.
He nods when our eyes meet, polite but unreadable.
A man who could carry groceries for an old lady or block a punch without thinking.
“Continuing with the plan, Mr. St. Clair?” Ronny asks, voice smooth, accent polished into neutrality.
“Yes, Ronny,” Jax says. “All going as planned.”
My stomach knots. “Where are we going, Jax?” I ask, adjusting in my seat.
He turns to me, eyes bright with excitement. “Trust me, okay?”
The proximity between us feels more nerve-wracking than the audition I just survived earlier today.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t want to be here this bad, with him, in his family’s car.
I keep telling myself this is not a date in any shape or form.
He’s just being nice. A friend. A very good-looking friend.
I glance at him quickly. The black button-down fits like it was made for him, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the collar open just enough to show skin. Dark jeans. Brand new looking shoes, not a mark on them. Everything about him looks… perfect.
Then I look down at myself. Simple jeans, a plain shirt, old sneakers that have seen too much. I suddenly feel painfully aware of the space between his world and mine.
We drive for too long, and I press my forehead to the window. The buildings thin out, the grime disappears and my brain short-circuits. I see giant green trees and a lake so wide it looks like it belongs in someone else’s world, a view too pretty for the train route.
“Keyhill Park,” Jax says, like the name should mean something.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, my mouth falling open in awe.
“It’s not developed yet,” he says, and suddenly he’s not Jax—the boy who kissed me to protect me. He’s Jax St. Clair, son of the family that buys places like this, rips out the nature, and builds skyscrapers overcharging the poor.
He sees green and thinks money. I see green and think escape.
Ronny slows down and I recognize where we are.
“Jax—”
“Here,” Jax says, already getting out. He comes around the car and opens my door. “You said this was the place, right?”
I nod, even though something in me is already pulling back. “Yeah.”
I step out and look at the entrance, hesitating before I go inside, since I’ve only ever entered through the back.
Inside, people sit at tables with napkins placed neatly on their laps, and it’s like we’re not in Tar City at all.
I forget sometimes that in this pocket of streets, just blocks away from everything falling apart, people live like this, people like Jax.
We sit across from each other, menus between us.
“Jax, I can’t—”
“It’s on me,” he says. “Order whatever you want. I’m definitely trying your loaded fries.”