Take One More Step

🩰Fifteen🩰

POV Akhyra

Our first meeting for rehearsals begins at eight in the morning, but I order Valentino to drop me off at the studio at 6:45 to make sure I'd be the first to arrive. The maintenance crew are the only people present when I make my way up the stairs leading to the dressing rooms. They don't seem surprised to see me, I suppose that dancers showing up here ahead of time isn't a novelty to them.

I'm blissfully alone when I get changed. I put on the required rehearsal garments:  ballet pink tights under a black leotard. Once my pointe shoes are well tied up around my ankles, I check my phone for the practice room number, then leave with my duffel bag hanging on my shoulder. I could've left it back there, but after practice, the place will be crawling with sweaty, chatty dancers. An unpleasant gathering I'd rather avoid.

The door of practice room 24B is already opened. There's a janitor inside mopping the floor who signals for me to wait before coming in. I sit on my bag in the hallway and decide to check my messages meanwhile.

My team has left two new texts on our group chat. 

Valentino: Not the main character but still the ONLY STAR.

Hannah:✨️🫶World's greatest dancer. Show them how it's done!

I can't help smiling at their goofiness as I type a quick answer. They really are the best team that I could've hired. It turns out that Valentino never sent that email to Madame Laroche, despite the fact that I had threatened to fire him. He knew that I'd eventually come back on my decision.

 A message from Maëlla pops up in my notifications, and I click on it right away. It's the beginning of a dad joke. She's been sending me these constantly in the hope that I will finally find one of them funny.

Maëlla: Why did the ballet dancer go to school early?

Me: Why?

Maëlla: Because she wanted to get a leg up on the day!😉

Me: Okay... that wasn't half bad.

Maella: Go kill it today!!!🩰✨️

I thank her before opening the conversation that I've restrained myself from checking since this morning. There's still no new messages from Lucian. Our last conversation was on wednesday, when he texted me after landing in New York, and I wished him good luck with training because I knew my dad was going to wear him out. That was five days ago. He's gone radio silent ever since.I debated many times over texting Lucian to let him know that I'm also in the U.S. 

Because Madame Laroche is part of the production of Enchanted Shadows I'd assumed we'd be rehearsing in France, but her friend the co-producer is an American ballet choreographer hence why the show is being produced here. 

I try not to dwell on the tiny sting of disappointment clawing its way into my chest. If Lucian wanted to check on me, he would've reached out. There's no need for me to let him know I'm here since apparently he's way too busy to pick up his phone for two seconds. It's not that big of a deal anyway, it's not like we're best friends or something. 

When the janitor comes out, I look at the nametag on his gray uniform before greeting him as I stand up. He thanks me for being patient and wishes me to have a good practice session. He's a sweet old man who radiates Morgan Freeman energy.

Even strangers are wishing me good luck today, and yet Lucian couldn't even bother sending a quick text? I get that he's training hard for the semi-finals of the Gold Cup, but I'm sure Maëlla told him that today is my first day of rehearsals for Enchanted Shadows. Men... ugh!