Chapter 11
"What are you doing standing there?" Noah asks, stopping in the hallway that leads to the rehearsal room they've rented for the week.
Mia is standing still; she just stepped out of her dressing room ready to run through the choreography with the dancers, but as she did, she spotted Erin a little farther down the hall, crouched with her back turned, tying the laces on her boots.
"Ah, I see." Noah's voice carries a sarcastic edge that makes Mia turn toward him as Erin straightens up and stands there, eyes on her phone, completely unaware that the singer is just a few feet behind her.
"What do you see?" Mia crosses her arms, expression questioning.
"You drooling over Erin."
Noah lets out a little laugh and runs a hand over his beard because it's starting to itch.
The singer is about to protest, to tell him he's being paranoid and make up some excuse to justify standing in that hallway with that dopey look on her face, but he's her best friend and he already knows she has a thing for the doctor, so she makes a dramatic pout and presses her forehead against his chest for a few seconds before looking up, falling into step beside her personal assistant, and watching as Erin starts walking again toward the stage where Mia should already be.
"She's a goddamn goddess and she doesn't even know it," Mia whispers. "Why doesn't she want me?" she asks, turning back to Noah.
He lets out a laugh that echoes through the hallway and slings an arm around her shoulders.
"I guess it must be really hard for someone like you to accept there's a woman out there who's not interested."
Mia wraps an arm around his waist and walks alongside him.
"That's not it. Well, okay, yes, that part is weird," she admits, catching his laugh, "but I actually like her. Every time she touches me to check my vitals, I swear my skin breaks out in goosebumps."
"That's because she's out of reach. I bet if she slept with you, you'd be over her by the next day."
The singer stops dead, and Noah nearly stumbles when his arm gets caught behind her neck.
"Why don't you believe me when I say I like her?"
He runs a hand through his messy hair, not sure what to say.
"I wouldn't be over her, I can promise you that—unless the chemistry in bed was a disaster, which I doubt."
"So you're saying you'd actually date her?" he asks, somewhere between confused and surprised.
"I wish I could date a woman like her. Erin Dooley is everything I've always looked for: older than me, grounded, gorgeous, and immune to my charm.
" The last part she says as a joke, but also seriously, because ever since she got famous, holding a conversation with a woman for more than ten minutes without her bringing up Mia's work or listing off some virtue she supposedly possesses has become nearly impossible.
"Well, I'm sorry." Noah pulls her close again to keep walking. "You're going to have to turn those pretty blue eyes of yours toward someone else, because she made it pretty clear she's not interested."
"I know, but it's frustrating."
They reach the rehearsal room and the first thing Mia does is walk over to the doctor to have her pulse taken.
"How are you feeling today?" Erin asks before taking her wrist.
"A little tired."
"Didn't sleep well?" She jots down the vitals and sets the notepad on the table beside her.
"I slept six hours straight, but I don't know—I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck," the singer explains.
"Maybe we should push this rehearsal to later," Erin suggests, now checking Mia's pupils while one hand rests on her neck to hold her head steady, lifting one eyelid with the other.
The singer goes still, feeling the warmth of Erin's fingers seep through her skin and send a current through her body that lands between her legs.
"We can't," Mia says once Erin steps back. "Besides, if we stop the schedule every time I'm tired, we'd barely work half the days."
Erin hands her the water bottle to drink from and waits until the singer hands it back.
"All right, we don't stop, but we'll take more breaks, and if you feel anything—"
"Yeah, I'll let you know, don't worry, Dooley, I'm fine," Mia cuts her off.
With a sigh, Erin watches her run toward the center of the stage where the dancers are already waiting.
The music starts immediately, and for a moment she forgets what brought her here and loses herself in the movements of Mia's body—movements that are sometimes hard to follow because of their speed—but above all she loses herself in that shameless grin and the euphoric look on her face as she moves and lip-syncs.
"I'm going for coffee," Noah announces, coming up beside her. "Want one?"
"A latte, thanks," Erin says, giving him an affectionate touch on the arm.
Mia watches from the stage and feels something like jealousy tighten behind her ribs.
She isn't jealous of her friend, but of the fact that Erin smiles at him and seems to genuinely like him, that she's warm with him while she keeps her distance with Mia at all times.
She often wonders if she should have played it differently, if going after Erin Dooley so blatantly was a mistake, and whether a subtler approach might have gotten a different result—but there's nothing she can do about it now, because Erin has been very clear: Mia doesn't interest her beyond her medical chart.
As if thinking about her condition had summoned the symptoms, Mia starts to notice that her legs feel weaker and her vision blurs for a fraction of a second that leaves her disoriented.
Without being fully aware of what she's doing, she slows her steps to steady herself and tries to focus straight ahead to get her vision back, but by then she's already caught the doctor's attention, and Erin drops her notepad and runs toward the stage without caring that she's breaking up the dancers' choreography.
"Kill the music, Noah," she orders as she reaches Mia, leaving the guy—who was coming back with the coffees—frozen for a few seconds. "And everybody out."
"What are you doing?" Mia asks when Erin wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her against her body, afraid she might collapse at any moment.
"Look at me." Erin cups her chin with one hand. "Can you walk?"
Mia is confused. Part of her is still onstage thinking about what she's supposed to be doing, and the other part is disoriented.
"Yeah, I don't—"
She stops when the weakness in her legs gets worse and her blue eyes lose focus.
Erin holds her firmly and lowers her to the floor until she manages to lay her down.
By then the dancers are filing out, Noah has stopped the music, and he's standing by the door, scared, waiting to see if the doctor needs help.
"Don't stop looking at me, Wilder," Erin says, lifting her legs to force blood toward her brain.
Mia's mouth falls open and her breathing becomes unsteady. Fear is flooding through her, but she's still conscious, and Erin needs to use that to keep her mind from shutting down.
"Noah, get over here!" she calls, and the assistant is at her side in barely three seconds. "Keep her legs in this position."
He does as he's told and takes his place at Mia's feet, holding her legs elevated at about a forty-degree angle.
"Mia," Erin murmurs, kneeling at her side and leaning forward.
She places one hand on her cheek and uses the other to take the singer's hand, which is already curled in a tight fist that she covers with her palm.
"I need you to keep squeezing your fists, honey, and tighten your abs and your glutes too. Can you try?"
She moves the hand from Mia's cheek to her stomach and rests it there to check whether Mia can follow her instructions or whether her mind is already about to shut off. She feels a faint trembling against her palm and leans in closer.
"That's it, you're doing great—keep pushing."
Erin catches a shadow behind her shoulder and turns her head for a second to see that Nell is there, her face white with shock.
Mia's eyes fill with tears and they start streaming down both sides of her face as panic takes over completely, but she's still conscious.
Erin got there in time, and what she's doing is working.
"Keep going, sweetheart," she whispers, "keep squeezing and look at me."
The singer's blue eyes, still half out of focus, blink, and her pupils search for Erin as if she's the beacon she needs to find her way. Erin exhales when she feels them lock on her, and then she moves one of Mia's hands to her chest the same way she did last time.
"Now try to breathe with me, slow."
Mia's hand trembles the same way her chin does, and even then she doesn't break eye contact with Erin, as if she's anchored to her and that's what's keeping her awake.
"Erin…" Mia murmurs, still frightened and a little dizzy.
"I'm right here, honey," she whispers slowly. "You're okay, Mia—keep breathing with me."
Barely blinking, legs still elevated, the singer manages it. She matches her rhythm to Erin's, focused on the steady heartbeat she can feel against her palm.
"Bring her feet down. Rest them on the floor and keep her legs bent," Erin tells Noah, who obeys very slowly.
"I don't feel good," Mia murmurs, still pale.
"I know, but it's over now." Erin brushes the hair from her forehead. "Can you hold on to my neck? I want you to drink some water."
She leans down until the strands of her ponytail fall to one side of her neck and graze Mia's, who stretches her arms up and closes them behind the doctor's nape.
"Ready?" Erin asks, her cheek almost brushing Mia's.
"Yeah," she whispers, drawing out the word.
Mia's voice is a low, breathy sound as Erin pulls upward, puts a hand on her back, and brings her with her until she's sitting with her back resting against Erin's chest. Nell holds out an open water bottle and Erin brings it to the singer's lips, which she can barely keep open, and some of the water spills down her chin.
"It's okay if it spills—just drink what you can."
Mia takes another sip and blinks, curling a fist around the side pocket of Erin's pants, and it takes her a few seconds to realize that her other hand is still resting on her own stomach, covered by Erin's.
"Noah, figure out a way to get her out of here—she needs to rest," Erin says.
"Out back there's the van that brought us here; I can have them pull it up to the door if she can walk," he offers.
"Do it—we'll go once she's more stable."
"Don't we need to go to the hospital?" Nell asks.
"There's no magic medicine for this," Erin answers. "Going there will only make her more anxious—better to go to the hotel."
"Okay, I'll help Noah—I'll make sure the hallway is clear so we can get her out. Back in a minute."
Nell disappears and they're left alone, with only one of Mia's bodyguards nearby, standing close to the door.
"How are you doing?" Erin whispers, touching her forehead first and then the top of her lip to check for sweat.
"I don't think I can walk right now," Mia says, curling into herself, frightened.
"I know, don't worry about that. Do you want more water?"
Mia shakes her head and Erin brushes the damp hair from her forehead. Those blue eyes fix on hers, and for a moment Erin can see only the scared girl who lives beneath the bravado and boldness with which Mia moves through the world.
"Don't leave me alone," she murmurs, gripping her pants tightly.
Erin closes her hand more firmly over Mia's and wraps her other arm around her shoulders.
"Never, honey," she answers softly against her ear.
Mia doesn't pass out, but her eyes drift shut and she settles into a kind of half-sleep, letting out a sigh of relief as she listens to the slow, steady beat of Erin's heart.