Page 143 of The First Taste
Is this really happening to me right now?
I finish the combination a good four steps after the rest of my group. Basil looks me up and down, pushing out his lips in a dissatisfied expression. “Do better,” he warns.
I nod at him quickly, glancing out at Calum and Emma. Neither has much expression on their face. But Calum’s gaze is burning a hole through the middle of my torso.
I scurry to the side of the stage, turning away from that gaze. Ella comes to stand next to me, raising a brow as she glances back at our audience.
“Do you know him?” she asks in a hushed whisper.
I take a breath, trying not to panic. “Who?” I ask, all innocence.
She narrows her mahogany gaze at me. “Obviously I’m talking about the sexy guy standing next to Emma. He’s been glaring at you since he got here.”
Not wanting to risk a glance over my shoulder at Calum, I just shake my head. “Nope. Never seen him before.”
The lie burns as it leaves my mouth. Ella gives me hard look, knowing that something is up. But Basil claps his hands together, drawing her attention away.
“All right! Now it’s time for your solos. I know that you weren’t expecting to perform them quite so soon…” He shoots a cool look off the stage. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but he quickly moves on. “Anyway, we need to see them now. You can line up right here and give the pianist your music. Then we’ll start.”
For a long second, nobody moves. It’s a sea of inexperienced, wide eyed kids, all looking to the others for reassurance. Then Ella clears her throat, grabbing my hand. “Right away, Basil. We’re ready to go with our solos.”
My cheeks flush as I let her pull me over to the other side of the stage. Everyone hurries to line up after me. Basil smiles coolly at Ella.
“Thank you. Are you ready?”
Ella nods, dropping my arm. She turns to the pianist and tells him to play a selection from Romeo and Juliet. The woman starts playing the beginning notes of the piece and Ella strides to a starting point, lifting her chin and smiling.
As I watch her dance, my stomach drops. She’s better than most of the dancers I know, better certainly than me.
Who isn’t better than you, little mouse?
I swallow against the whisper of my dad’s voice. Blinking rapidly, I glare out off the stage, where Calum is staring me down.
I won’t cry.
I can’t.
This is my only chance.
Ella finishes her routine, bowing elegantly. There is a smattering of polite applause. Basil nods and turns to me. “Next?”
I clear my throat, turning to the pianist. “Would you please play the beginning of the second act of Giselle?”
The accompanist arches a brow at my choice of music; I’ve chosen one of the hardest pieces to perform for my solo.
She starts playing and I hurry to my place at the back of the stage. My heart is beating like a drum in my ears. It’s almost hard to hear the music over it.
Luckily, I have practiced this exact piece thousands of times. Using nothing but muscle memory, I smile as I parade out, doing a dizzying number of pirouettes as I dash across the stage. All time stops. Everything just becomes about my breath, my limbs, my feet. Making sure I push myself into the next movement.
The music is very upbeat and I smile along as I do the arabesques and grand jetés that are required. I am moving too quickly to see any one particular person.
But when I come to center stage and pause for a moment, Calum is still standing there, staring at me like I am an insect to be crushed.
Holy shit.
The judgment I see written all over his expression is terrifying. I turn, pirouetting once more before I complete my three grand jetés off stage.
Somehow, I land slightly off balance coming out of the pirouette. Then I’m forced to try to overcompensate as I carry that force into the first jump.
