Page 43 of Pucking Unhinged
“I’ll hold on to it for you while you dance,” he says when we break apart, his thumb brushing my cheek.
“Thank you,” I breathe, kissing him once more before he lets me go.
The door closes behind him, leaving me alone again. I set the flowers on the vanity, the mirror throwing my reflection back at me. Costume perfect. Makeup flawless. My chest still heaving like it might break apart. I drag in a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but all I see is him. All I feel is him.
The air backstage is too warm, but I know that’s just my nerves. I smooth my hands down my costume even though it’s perfect, not a thread out of place. My chest tightens like every hour of practice, every sacrifice, every bruise and blister has gathered here to crush me all at once. My breath comes shallow. If I let it, the nerves will eat me alive.
But then the curtain rises.
I step out, and for a heartbeat it’s too much, the lights, the silence before the music, the mere fact that I’m here to be judged.
Then I see him.
Tristan.
Sitting front and center like he belongs there, even though he shouldn’t be. He knows what I need right now, and that’s enoughto chase the panic away. I breathe. And I smile, just a little, because he’s here. Because he will always be here when I need him.
I’ve never been able to say that about anyone else.
The first notes swell, and I take my place. My chest rises with the music, arms lifting, fingers curving just so. I fall into the choreography I’ve bled for all this time. The arch of my back, the sweep of my arms, the stretch of my neck, it all feels sharper under the stage lights, like my body knows this moment is it.
My shoes glide as I spin, turns catching the rhythm exactly. The music pulses through me so fluidly that I swear it feels like a second heartbeat. The nerves burn away, replaced by something electric, something that makes me feel exhilarated.
Every motion is clean, every line exact. My chin is high, legs stretched out long, arms strong in each position. Years of practice stitched into each movement, but it isn’t just discipline. It’s defiance. Every perfect step is a declaration that I came this far.
Then I let go.
The leaps stretch wider, the spins faster, my body chasing the music like I might actually take flight. The spotlight blurs, and for the first time it isn’t about control. It’s freedom. It’s my soul pouring out through every extension, every beat, every breath.
And all the while, he’s there. Watching me like I’m the only thing in his entire world.
My chest swells as I move through the final sequence. Gratitude presses hot against my ribs for the way he always finds me. For the way he doesn’t care about rules or anyone else’s opinion. For the way I’ll never have to doubt him.
The music builds, carrying me higher. Each leap, each turn is a prayer, a promise, a thank you. Every step is for him just like his every breath is for me.
And as I dance, I can feel his eyes on me. They never waver, never leave, just like he’ll never leave me.
The last note fades, and silence rushes in. My chest heaves, sweat cooling on my skin, and all I can hear is my own pulse in my ears. The panel doesn’t speak. They never do. They simply rise from their seats and file out without a word. It isn’t rude. It’s the way it’s done, and I won’t know my score until later in the year.
For the first time, I don’t care what the grade will be. None of it matters. I know what I did out here. I know I killed it. Every move, every breath, gave them everything I had. More than that, I gave myself proof that I can do this. That all the things that used to hold me back don’t own me anymore.
I leave the stage, and I can already feel the stiffness sinking into my muscles as I step into the hallway leading to the dressing room. Madi and Lilac are waiting with flowers clutched in their arms, pink and white petals peeking out over the paper wrap. Hayden and Callum lean against the wall like they’re bored out of their minds, which tells me that Madi and Lilac have already reprimanded them for pawing at them at least once.
I smile, waving as I greet them, but their attention shifts down the hall behind me.
Tristan.
He moves toward me with that slow, steady stride that makes it hard to look away.
Madi and Lilac squeal, crashing into me before I have the time to brace for the collision. Their arms wrap tight around me, voices overlapping. “We wish we could’ve watched! You were amazing. I know you were, I’m so proud of you.” Their words tumble out fast, and it’s hard for me to know who is saying what, and I can’t stop smiling.
As Tristan closes the space between us, my body reacts before I think. I slip past my favorite girls in the world, straight into his side, his arm already there waiting to catch me. I bury myself against him, breathing him in, and when I glance up, he’s looking at me like I’ve never been more perfect. Soft eyes. Completely undone just for me.
Madi lingers, grinning like she knows exactly what’s happening. “Okay,” she says knowingly, giving me another hug before gesturing toward the flowers. “We’ll take these home for you, but we’re going to leave you guys alone because Tristan doesn’t look like he’s super up for company right now.” She giggles, tugging Lilac’s hand, and calls over her shoulder as they head down the hall, “We’re making a fancy dinner in your honor tonight, so try not to be long, you two!”
Tristan cuts his eyes at her, sharp, but doesn’t bother with words. I elbow him lightly because even though Hayden would do the same to me, I can’t have my boyfriend beefing with my best friend over who gets to make me dinner tonight. “I love you guys!” I call after them.
I hear Hayden groaning like a child, “I don’t want fancy food, I want wings and homemade fries.”
