Brutal Obsession: Chapter 50

“How are you feeling?”

I glance up from my position on the floor. When I see Mia in my rented studio, I shoot to my feet. “Good.” I clear my throat. “Fine. Thank you.”

She chuckles and runs her hand down one of the bars. “Sorry to drop in unannounced.”

I try not to fidget as she appraises me. Hair in a braid over my shoulder, a loose cardigan over my gray leotard and black, stretchy shorts. I had a dance class an hour ago and have been working through the choreography for my audition.

Grey is sitting in the corner, his homework forgotten and his gaze on me.

“What’s up?” I grab my water bottle.

“Laramie told me you requested additional studio space after your lesson, so I figured I’d swing by and see how preparation is going.”

I shoot her a smile. “It’s going.”

She snorts. “Want to show me?”

“Is that biased?” I lift one shoulder and take a swig of the cool water. Surely she’s the one deciding who gets the part. But then again, she’s the one who pulled me out of retirement. That may have been the biggest tell of all.

“It may be.” She crosses to the speaker connected to my phone and hits play.

The familiar piece fills the room, an orchestral work from the original Sleeping Beauty . I want the lead role of Princess Aurora. Whether I can achieve her sweetness and grace is anyone’s guess. This particular part is a variation in the first act. She’s celebrating her sixteenth birthday, on the cusp of being cursed to a hundred-year sleep, and dancing alone before meeting four suitors.

I take my position in front of the mirrors, cue my entrance, and begin.

There are pieces we’re still working on, movements I wanted to perfect, but my body feels good. My leg is solid, almost entirely painless while I dance. It’s strong again. That alone is enough to bring a burn to the backs of my eyes.

The aquatic therapy helped—and I almost couldn’t do it because of money.

I turn my mind back to Aurora. I don’t believe her parents told her about the curse. If they did, she wouldn’t be tempted later in the act to inspect the spindle. She wouldn’t have been so curious as to reach out and prick her finger on it.

Would I have been so curious about Greyson if I knew all that my mother had done—and was doing?

Before I know it, the music has moved on, and I hover in my final pose. I come out of it and meet Mia’s eyes in the mirror, shocked that she has a huge smile on her face.

“It’s like you never left,” she says softly.

I beam.

“Truly beautiful. Work on those parts that weren’t as seamless, but other than that?” She shakes her head. “You know, I would’ve loved to see you in Swan Lake .”

The role I had.

“Maybe I’ll dance as the white and black swans one day.” I lift a shoulder.

She frowns. “It’s unlikely Crown Point Ballet will do it again.”

I tilt my head. It would be unusual for me to stay with the same company for the entire length of my career. But I don’t answer—it wouldn’t really do either of us any good for me to tell her I plan on leaving CPB one day. In fact, I have a feeling it would hinder me.

Mia nods again. “I just wanted to stop by and give you some more information about Sleeping Beauty , if you have time?”

I check my watch. I have the studio for the rest of the evening, and I’m curious about why she stopped by. I nod to Mia and leave Greyson in the room. We go down the hall to a darkened studio. She picks the one Grey and I had our… um… moment. My face heats, and I squash those memories.

“Crown Point Ballet is using Sleeping Beauty to hold open auditions for the company,” Mia says. That’s a way to get new blood into the company. Most hold open auditions maybe once a year, gearing up for the season. “We have a new choreographer for this ballet, but I think you know him. Shawn Meridian?”

I raise my eyebrows. Shock echoes through me—chased by excitement . Do I know him? Sort of. Do I want to dance his choreography? Abso-fucking-lutely. “I had the pleasure of meeting him once. My mom wrangled me an introduction when we went to see one of his ballets. I was in high school. Pretty sure I made a fool of myself and gave him a tape of me dancing. How did you know that?”

She chuckles. “Believe it or not, there was a time when you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“That makes sense.” Especially around the other girls. There’s a competitive edge amongst dancers. We’re friends, but we also all want to come out on top. Bragging is normal.

“We’re hosting a summer intensive,” she adds. “Which I think you’d excel at. Get your stamina back. And then we’ve got a home season and jump into national touring from there.”

I nod along. I don’t bother to tell her that I already know this. I toured with the company as part of the ensemble and later a soloist. My chance at principal prima ballerina—the coveted spot—was ripped away before our season started. Before I had danced in front of one audience.

“Anyway, I just wanted to give you a heads-up about Shawn and the open audition. I’m looking forward to seeing you bring your A game.”

Because I’m competitive. That’s why she really told me. Letting me know I’m not just up against Crown Point Ballet for the lead spot—while that’s not easy , I know most of the girls. I’ll be up against anyone. Everyone.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

She nods and leaves me standing in the empty room. We never even turned on the lights.

“Interesting meeting.” Grey leans against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.

“Mia,” I say faintly. “Yeah, she’s an interesting person.”

“Seems like she’s looking out for you, yeah?”

I shrug it off. “Is she? Or does she just want someone…” Familiar? Safe? I don’t want to be either of those options. I want to be the one who everyone gravitates toward. The one all the choreographers want to work with. “Either way, I guess it’s a good thing.”

He shrugs, then straightens up. “Are you hungry? I’m going to go grab something to eat. I can bring you back whatever you want.”

I perk up. “A turkey wrap from that place on the corner? And fries. And a Gatorade.” I stop right in front of him, reaching out to play with the bottom of his shirt. “You remember this room?”

The cuts he gave me were barely deep enough to scab over—they probably won’t even scar. And it’ll be sad to see them go.

He cups my jaw, tilting my face up to kiss me. I lean into him. Each kiss goes through me like electricity, and I don’t know how he does that. How he makes every touch important. His tongue dips between my parted lips, tasting me, and he hums when he leans back.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises. “Once you’re done dancing, we can come back to this room…”

I smile.

We go in separate directions—him to the exit, me to the studio I rented. I cross to the speaker and hit play on my music, but it isn’t the piece I’ve been rehearsing to that comes out. It’s the faint notes of a solo from a different ballet.

I read the words on the screen, the title of the piece, but my mind is stuttering. It’s familiar in a dream-like way. My body knows what to do—and I’m certain I’ve never performed this. I don’t know that I’ve even seen more than snippets of this ballet. Giselle . It’s tragic in a way. The orchestra pulls at my heart.

Without really knowing why, I rise from my position next to the speaker. I restart the song and move to the middle of the room, staring at myself in the mirror for a moment. Then I close my eyes and let muscle memory take over. I move through choreography I don’t remember learning.

The tempo picks up, and I fly across the room. For a moment, I feel the weight of my future lift off my shoulders. But my pointe shoe catches on something—or perhaps it’s my leg that fails—and I stumble.

Suddenly Grey is there, catching me before I crash.

“Oh,” I gasp, clutching at his arms. “Sorry.”

He tilts his head. “That’s not the piece you’ve been working on all day.”

“No, it isn’t.” I straighten and step back. “I’m not sure where that came from.”

“Interesting.” His arms fall back to his sides.

“It was queued up on my phone,” I explain. “Must’ve been on shuffle after the Sleeping Beauty one. In a playlist for ballet music.”

“Right.” He watches me, his expression curious.

I have the distinct impression that I’m fumbling my way through this. That I should feel flustered by what I just did. And I am flustered, because I don’t remember learning that choreography. Maybe I made it up. An imaginary dance to go along with moving music.

“What ballet is it from?”

I glance over his shoulder. “What happened to food?”

“Decided to just get it delivered,” he says. “I called the place. Someone’s bringing it over soon.”

I grunt.

“Vi. The ballet?”

“Giselle ,” I say. I venture in closer to him. “A romantic tragedy.”

“How’s that?”

I run my hand up his arm. “A trusting commoner falls in love with a disguised nobleman. He tricks her, making her think that he’s like her. But he isn’t.”

Grey’s eyes narrow. “Vi.”

“His ruse is uncovered,” I continue. “And poor Giselle dies.”

His brows furrow. “She dies?”

“That’s just act one, baby.” I shake my head and turn away. “She turns into a forest apparition, one of many that lure men into the forest to dance until they die. But when the nobleman is lured into the forest, she dances with him… and she chooses to keep him alive. Do you think that’s love?”

“I don’t know.”

I grimace. “As I said. It’s a tragedy.”

“But you didn’t explain how you knew it.”

“I made it up.” I cross to the music, which has looped again to repeat the song. I put the Sleeping Beauty one back on and take up my position in the middle of the room. “I’m sure I did.”