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His face seems to loom before me, as dangerously handsome as he was eight years ago. Except, his boyish looks turned into the harder features of a man who looks like he was sculpted to perfection by the world's greatest artist.
The realization that Jericho Grayson isn’t some figment of my imagination and he’s actually here in front of me, sitting behind the balcony in the VIP section, slices through my mind. Then the knowledge fills it with a weight as heavy as lead.
The heaviness spreads throughout my body, reaching every cell, and I almost feel like I might fall out of the air.
Yet, I can’t will myself to look away from him. Shock has frozen me in time, and all I can do is stare back at those bright blue eyes I haven't seen in forever.
It doesn’t help that the mechanical aerial hoop is designed to stay here for a full minute to give the VIP guests a good view ofme.
Me, Club Edge’s newest main attraction. Thank God my years of stage performance have equipped me with the concept of ‘the show must go on’.
I’ve managed to style out my shock by keeping my body still in a full split position on the hoop, but while the crowd below are cheering at what they think is part of the performance, I feel like I’m going to frizzle into the ether.
Jericho looks just as shocked to see me, and like he’s trying to figure out if I’m really here or not. Although I’ve established that he’s here and he’s real, I’m doing the same thing.
The music rises, and the hoop starts gliding again, severing our connection. It’s only then I notice Luc Le Blanche is sitting next to Jericho. In the same breath, I note that he recognizes me, too.
Instantly, my awareness returns, along with a venomous dose of humiliation.
Embarrassment rushes over me like an army of fire ants, and I think of how cruel fate is to have done this to me tonight.
Fate has never been kind to me. Not once. This is just one morething.
It’s bad enough that I work here, but seeing my ex and his best friend fromhigh schoolhas shoved the remains of my pride deep into the earth where no one will ever see it again.
When you run into your ex, you hope that you're in a better position than how they left you, but I'm still in trouble, just a different kind.
Before my mind can sink into a chasm of despair, I will myself to focus and remember why I’m here.
This is for Aunt Gina, the only person in my life who’s always been there for me.
By some miracle, I find strength and am able to push Jericho and Luc to the back of my mind so I can continue with my performance.
I think of Gina and carry on my act, but I can still feel Jericho’s eyes burning into me. His face hasn’t left my mind either.
I always wondered how I'd feel if I ever saw him again. I hoped it would never happen because it was clear the day we broke up that he no longer cared for me, and probably wanted to find someone better. Deep down, I wondered if he had. He was at MIT, and there was always some girl hating on me because she wanted him.
I remember how deluded I must have seemed when I went around thinking I was going to be with a guy like him who came from one of the richest families in America.
Old pain stirs deep inside my soul, and I'm annoyed at myself for feeling it.
Enough years have gone by for me not to feel anything for this guy. Jericho Grayson shouldn’t even be an afterthought in my mind, but his mere presence in my sphere of existence rattles me to the core.
I manage to complete the performance, which lasts another ten minutes—the longest ten minutes of my life.
The hoop floats back to the stage, and the crowd cheers for me.
I’ve been here for close to a month. According to Penelope, the club owner, I’ve been a hit.
The sound of the applause takes me back to my glory days when I was the prima ballerina who danced with the Bolshoi Ballet. Those were the days I lived for, and I was so glad that I’d gotten so far. The same thought saddens me now because I’m not that girl anymore.
I was lucky enough to get this job for my dance and acrobatic skills, but in this skimpy leotard that exposes more than I’d like, I’m hardly any different from the strippers. I’m not strippingyet,and I hope I never have to.
Pretending I'm still the River St. James I used to be, I curtsey, receiving a louder applause.
When I rise, I chance stealing a glance at the VIP section where I've seen Jericho.
He’s not there anymore. Neither is Luc.
