Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Oh.” The breath I’d pulled in left me in a single rush. That was why we did this. Why we cared. Why we put in hour after hour in the studio. Why we stretched and iced and endured PT to come back and do it all over again. Because for the briefest of moments, we could be immortal, live forever in someone’s memory. And that alone was worth it.
The waltz neared its conclusion, and fresh conviction flowed through me with every oompah. If this was indeed the last time I ever graced a stage or danced the Cavalier, I would make it count. I harnessed all my fears, embracing them in a way I’d been resistant to all autumn. The fears weren’t going away. The risk of injury would always be there.
And I was going to dance anyway.
Twenty
En croix: in the shape of a cross; a sequence where the same movement is performed to the side, front, back, and the same side again.
Alexander
And dance I did. I performed perhaps the best The Nutcracker pas de deux of my career, partnering Victoria with ease, and performing my full variation, no hesitation or holding back. I left it all on the stage, and when the audience roared its approval, I shot Victoria a grateful smile. This moment made everything else worth it.
As we came off stage for the final time, Rudy touched my arm before I could head to my dressing room.
“You were magical.” His awestruck voice matched his expression. His praise meant more to me than any round of applause. His opinion mattered. He mattered. And his wonder made me feel taller than the theater itself. “You were so fearless, Alexander.”
“Hardly. But I danced anyway.” Tone solemn, I held his gaze. “I couldn’t have done this show without you.”
“Same,” he whispered. I wanted to bottle this feeling, stand here forever basking in his approval. I wished he could be backstage at every show, a frivolous sort of dream that couldn’t ever be, but oh, how well I might dance if he could.
Neither of us had the luxury of staying in our little bubble very long. Typical last show backstage chaos called Rudy away, and my family descended upon me for kudos. My mother brought flowers while Isabella gave me a stuffed nutcracker toy.
“Bradley and I discovered the cutest little small town with a year-round holiday shop. You should go sometime. Well worth the drive. And I wanted to give you something you could take back with you to remember us.”
“As if I could forget you.” I gave her a one-armed hug, trying to spare her the worst of my sweatiness. “Or this production. So many memories.”
“New ones?” She raised an eyebrow, head subtly tilting toward the spot where Rudy stood talking with some dance parents. We were so not having this conversation, especially with my mother right there at her side.
“All sorts,” I said airily as I placed a hand on her shoulder and my mother’s as well, steering both of them toward the exit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really want to try for a shower before what little hot water there is runs out.”
The ancient shower at the theater left me missing my tub and Rudy both. The bath the night before had been a sweet gesture, made more so because he hadn’t tried to turn it into an erotic adventure. His sole concern had been my comfort.
Yet, Rudy had to have been exhausted himself. I wasn’t the only one who’d put in long hours for the show. Indeed, nearly every time I’d seen him the last four days, he’d been on the move, directing traffic, answering questions, calming nerves, and preventing disasters. He also deserved someone to take care of him.
I was hardly equipped for such a task, but I fetched a bottled sports drink from a cooler near the snacks table. I found Rudy lining garment bags up on a wheeled rack for return to the school.
“Here.” I held out the drink, which he accepted.
“What’s this?” He smiled even as his eyes narrowed with confusion.
“You never carry a water bottle.” I shrugged like I hadn’t wasted a good five minutes trying to come up with some sort of suitable gesture. “I thought you might be thirsty.”
“I am. Thank you.” His grin widened, both dimples making an appearance. I moved to help him with the rack, but he waved me off. “And you certainly don’t have to help tear down. You’ve done more than enough.”
“Nonsense.” I ignored his protest and helped him pilot the rack toward the loading bay, which had a useful ramp for this sort of operation.
“Seriously. The show was a smashing success thanks to you.” The pride from earlier was back in Rudy’s voice, making my chest lift as we navigated the rack down the ramp. “With any luck, the theater and the ballet school will live to see another season.”