Page 80 of Wicked Dance
God, it looks like they were meant to be together, the way the clips are done. I’m just one of the other three. It’s completely opposite of real life.
Blitz reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
By the time the lights come back up, I can barely breathe. They want Giselle to win! They definitely want her to stay until the end.
We all stand, and people come up to Giselle and kiss her cheek. Mariah and Christy look over at me uncertainly. I know I must be pale. My face feels numb.
Blitz is easygoing and congenial, greeting people, shaking hands. I’m mute and shocked, like a statue beside him. But he sticks by me.
The time ticks on, never-ending, horrible. Giselle pops over, leaning on Blitz and kissing his cheek long enough for many pictures to be taken. I clutch his hand on the opposite side, unable to say or do anything about it.
Finally, at last, the gathering starts to break up. There’s talk of drinks, an after-party.
I can’t do it. I just can’t. The lights are so bright. The noise so loud. I feel like an explosion has just gone off and my ears are ringing, and I’m barely able to recognize what used to be familiar.
When we make it to the limo, Blitz is all smiles, bouncing with energy. I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed my distress. I don’t know how to explain to him why this is so horrible for me. I can’t explain it to myself.
He asks me what I’m up for, if I want to attend the after-party, and finally registers my expression, the stiffness in my arms and neck.
“Livia, hey, what’s wrong?” He pulls me close.
I can’t answer, my face going to his chest, the fancy hairdo coming undone, me coming undone. It’s like there’s a vise around my lungs, and I can’t take in enough air to say a word.
He instructs the driver to take us home and holds me close. I feel the energy and excitement drain out of him, and I wonder, am I right for him after all?
