Page 68 of Wicked Dance
“Roll that footage for continuity,” Devon says. “Let’s get him in place.”
The woman stares at a screen partially hidden by a hood. “Switch places, guys,” she says.
She’s right. I was on the left before. We move back into position.
“Close enough,” Devon says. “Let’s move.”
We walk back to the picnic, this time settling in the predetermined spots.
But as soon as we’re down, Devon stops us again.
“Kendra,” he says.
The woman in the tunic hurries forward. She adjusts my dress, shifts my ankles, and frowns when she sees my shoes. “She’s in the flats!” she says.
Devon shrugs. “We already have too much footage of her feet,” he says. “Leave it.”
Kendra is seriously miffed, but she adjusts my hair, Blitz’s vest, and shifts the plate a little closer to us.
“And rolling,” Devon says.
Blitz reaches for my hand and kisses my fingers again.
“It’s becoming a habit,” I say.
“Because you’re delectable.”
It’s such a Blitz thing to say, on his show, not to me normally, that I can’t help it, but burst out laughing.
“What?” Blitz says.
“It’s me now!” I say. “Or is there a real me and a show me?”
Blitz nods, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right. I was acting. I’ve been acting, on this show, with all those girls. But I don’t have to be that way with you.”
I bite my lip, then stop, remembering Gigi’s admonishment. It’s hard to fight my awareness of the cameras, imagining how they’ll zoom in on my face, then shift to our joined hands. I can picture the people watching, breath held, waiting for me to respond to this confession.
It’s us, but not us. We’re here, but not here. It’s intoxicating. I feel so important, like what I say and do matters.
“You know what is best about us?” I ask him.
“What?” he asks.
“When we’re together, it’s not just about us. It’s about all the things we love.”
“Like your wheelchair ballerinas,” he says.
My expression falters for a moment. I can feel it. Gabriella. I miss her already.
“We’ll be back to them soon,” he says. “And you’re right.” He pauses, and I get the impression that it’s so they can cut the scene here if they want to leave out the part about the ballerinas. “I love our life.”
“Together,” I say.
Blitz lifts one of the glasses of wine and hands it to me. Then he takes the other and clinks mine. “Together.”
