Page 32 of Forbidden Dance
The stage is dark other than a few safety lights along the edge. It has a hallowed glow to it, as if it is illuminated by ghosts.
The voices in the office drop down, talking in quiet tones. I wonder why, but my curiosity isn’t strong enough to get closer to hear. I just sit in the chair and feel sorry for myself. I won’t regret that kiss. And remembering how we danced onstage is a choice. There isn’t any reason to make it an ugly memory.
For a little while, I got to teach ballet to the most famous dancer in the world. That was something. Really something.
I sit up. Time to go. Class is probably about over and I might as well hug the girls good-bye before I head home.
But the shadow of a figure crosses the pale light onstage.
Blitz.
He’s come inside and gone up the stairs in the dark without my even noticing. I hunker down in the seat, wondering what he’s up to.
He takes a few leaps, turning, legs scissoring. His form is lean and true, striking and powerful. He drops to the floor and pops back again in a back flip, so unexpected that I almost gasp out loud.
Then he runs and attempts agrand jeté. It’s not bad. His arms still aren’t quite right, but then, I’m not really an instructor. Just a two-year ballet student with a crush. He really should get Betsy to fix his form. I picture him doing one onDance Blitzwhen he returns and my heart glows. It’s a little bit of me he will take with him.
He does anothergrand jetébut when he gets to the floor, he drops to one knee, head down. It’s like he’s broken, struck by grief.
Without thinking, I jump from my chair. “Blitz! Are you okay?” My feet carry me up the aisle to the stage.
He quickly stands, resuming his easy posture. “Livia?” he asks.
I hurry up the stairs. “Yes. Why are you dancing in the dark?”
“Why are you sitting in it?”
I want to run up to him and throw my arms around him. But I stop short, the image of all those women, all those nights, running through my head.
Blitz moves forward to reach for me, but I take a step back. He drops his arms. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
I don’t want to ask about the other girls or admit I cyberstalked him. But it isn’t really in me to lie to him. And I have no explanation for my behavior today compared to Friday if I don’t say it.
“How is Avery Hines?” I ask.
He lets out a long rush of air. “Nicer than people give her credit for,” he says. “And madly in love with another girl. She just won’t go public yet.”
My legs wobble, so I plop down on the stage. “Really?”
Blitz sits next to me. We both look out to the shadowy seats, the entrance, how close Danika and his manager are right now. But we’re just two people sitting on a stage.
He must feel the same, because he kicks his legs out in front of him and leans on his hands like this is any ordinary conversation. “I’m guessing if you saw one, you saw them all.” He doesn’t wait for a confirmation, but goes on. “Jenna is someone I knew from high school. She’s about to get married, but after those pictures came out, her fiancé is not speaking to her. I really screwed that up. I’m hoping she can fix it.”
“Oh, no.”
Blitz stares up into the dark canopy above the stage, the mass of stage lights and curtains invisible in the blackness. “Yep. And then there were two women with the network. I’m pretty sure one was testing to see if I would act like a man-whore to justify them killing my contract without even paying me.”
He shakes his head. “The other was just — God, I don’t know. Bitter, I guess. It was a difficult dinner to force myself through. There were two other men with us but of course the photos cut them out.”
Somewhere deep in my chest, a tiny glow of hope starts to light up around my heart. I want it to go away, to take me back to the safe place where I knew it was over. But it refuses.
“I guess it was pretty tough seeing all that,” Blitz says. “I didn’t go anywhere this weekend, though. I turned everything down. Just spent time with my parents.”
His eyes shine in the low light. He’s watching me earnestly.
My chest rises and falls with each breath. I refused to wear the light blue leotard, so it’s the white and yellow today, glowing in the dark. I pull my knees up to my chest. “It was definitely hard,” I manage to say. “But I didn’t do a Burn Blitz Burn Tweet.”
His laugh rings in the silent hall. “Oh my God, Livia, this was the longest weekend of my life.” He shifts close to me and pulls me into his arms. “All I could think about was my princess. Even my mother noticed.”
