AllFreeNovel
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“Now you’re talking,” she gives me a watery smile. “Seriously, let’s just focus on getting through the night. Show me your dress for the gala.”
We hang our dresses from hooks on the back of the dressing room door we share and admire both of them. We gossip about some of the other dancers, the one who was arrested with Kent. I’m sure we both want to ask more in-depth questions about what is going on with the other, me about her parents and her about Griff. We keep everything light though, no digging down past the surface tonight.
I pull on my first costume, a beautiful black sequined leotard and black pointe shoes with nude tights. Tonight, I’ve decided to use a bright red lipstick. It’s not approved, but Kent isn’t here and it’s my last night, what better time to do exactly what I want?
We help each other stretch before heading backstage. She is in the opening number, then I have the first pas de deux, then we have several numbers together.
I watch as she kills every single count of the opening. She’s on fire tonight, the fear of possibly never being back here and dancing on stage is weighing on her, I’m sure. It’s the same feeling that has been driving me the past months. Knowing this is it. My final performances.
The matinee performance goes by quickly, and then we’re back in our dressing room, munching on snacks together and trying to keep our muscles limber and warm. Several of the other dancers come by to say goodbye to me. I didn’t tell anyone, but I guess word travels fast.
As we are about to enter backstage, Friday pulls me into a hug. “I’m so glad we met and had the past couple years together. Even if I end up staying in Georgia with my family, I will always be here for you. A text, a phone call, a FaceTime away.”
“I know.” I hug her back. “The same goes for me. I love you.”
The lights go down, and she walks out to take her place. I soak up every part of this last performance. The sound of the dancers running around backstage, the smell of sweat and tape and hairspray. The way the floor feels below me and the way the lights heat my skin. When I get a look into the audience, I see my family, both blood and chosen sitting there supporting me.
The only face missing is perhaps the most important. Oddly, I do feel his presence, even if I can’t see him. I’ve felt him at every performance. I’ve told myself it’s just wishful thinking all week and tried to dismiss it.
Standing behind the curtain for the last time, I quickly swipe tears away from my eyes before linking my arms around my fellow dancers’ backs. We all take turns stepping forward and bowing. When I rise back up from my final bow, I notice the glint of red hair in the front row of the balcony section. I can’t see a face, but my heart leaps at the thought that it might be Griff. I stand there, searching for a face until I’m pulled back so the curtain can drop.
I run to the side to look up with the lights in the theater up, but with all the bodies up and moving, I can’t see him. Friday walks up beside me and peers over my shoulder.
“Who are you looking for?”
“I thought I saw Griff after my final bow.”
“Oooo,” her eyes widen, and she looks out again, “where?”
“Front row of the balcony section.”
“Damn,” she says after taking another long look, “everyone up there is facing toward the back of the theater.”
“I know.” I sigh and shake off the hopeful thoughts. “It’s not like he’s the only redhead in Manhattan. Probably just seeing things.”
* * *
“Damn! Baby V, you look amazing!” Levi says as I approach the group my family is standing in at the gala.
Con turns and hooks an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side. “You were beautiful tonight.”
“Thanks,” I squeeze him back before moving on to give everyone else hugs. Ivy and I are talking about my dress, a long, red Grecian-style dress that’s open in the front and back down to my waist. Lilith joins in the conversation but smiles at someone over my shoulder. I figure it’s Levi or Con, maybe Dad.
Then I feel familiar fingers trace the length of my spine. My entire body comes to life at that slight but intimate touch. Goosebumps race across my flesh from my neck to my toes, my skin tingles, my nipples harden just from his proximity. My body seems to know what my mind is finally catching up to, that I belong to the man standing at my back.
“Tsarina.”
One word. That’s all it takes for me to forget everything I’ve tried to convince myself. The lies I spun to make myself believe I didn’t deserve this man. The bitterness and disappointment I let color my vision.
“A word please.” He’s not asking. It’s a command with pretty packaging. His hand spreads possessively across my back, his fingertips sliding under the material of my dress.
I turn and, for the first in time in weeks, lock eyes with the man who owns my heart, body, and soul. His eyes burn so brightly into mine I can feel the heat we generate together. He looks fucking delicious in his perfectly tailored black suit.
“Yeah,” I allow him to lead me away from the group and down a side hallway. “Griff, I’m so so-” I never finish my sentence because he pushes me into an alcove.
His body pins mine to the wall. One of his hands wraps around my neck while his lips crash against mine. I moan as his tongue sweeps past my lips. He kisses me with aggressively possessive intent. His teeth bite down and tug on my lip.
His other hand traces over the side of my body, down my ribs, past my hip to where my skirt parts in a high slit. Then it makes its way back up to waist, lifting my skirt and exposing me to anyone walking by.
