Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (40)

He clears his throat. “I said I would be.”

I eye the flowers. “Are those for me?”

Elias doesn’t answer. Instead, his gaze soaks into me, burning a path in a slow perusal of every inch of my skin. My heart thumps wildly against my rib cage.

“Elias.”

His gaze flicks to mine, and he quickly hands me the flowers. I assess the pretty bouquet, smelling the sweetness with a hint of citrus.

I shoot him a pointed glance. “What happened to the no-flowers rule?”

“I didn’t like it.”

I scoff. “That’s not fair. What about the rules I don’t like?”

“Why?” He takes a step closer. “You think you’ll need a good luck kiss?”

A hot flush ignites a chaotic fire beneath my skin. I swallow, letting my gaze fall to his lips. “Wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

The silence breeds anticipation in my thumping heart.

“Might be,” he whispers before he moves to the vanity lighting the room. “So, what’s your pregame ritual?”

He fiddles with my makeup and notepad. “I usually make notations of the choreography and run through each position in my head. But it always feels like I miss a few anyway.”

He nods, quietly taking in the tiny space. A knock sounds, and my stage manager pops his head in. “We’re on in five, Sage.”

When the door closes, the air feels tight again. I worry I’ll be too short of breath to perform if he stays here a second longer. But when he enters my bubble, I let him.

Elias leans forward, and everything else ceases to exist. The noise of the dancers in the hallways, the dragging of props by the stage crew, and the PA system announcing the time till curtain up. At this moment, it’s only him and me. And the cardiac event I’m having.

But instead of claiming my lips like I hope, he kisses my forehead. “Good luck,” he whispers, then walks out before I can comprehend any of it.

My mind is in a whirlwind when I make it to the side stage and wait for my cue. But the second I hear the first notes, I focus only on dancing.

The blinding stage lights flush me in white and make the sparkling fabric in my dress shimmer as I move into my first position. This time when I glance out into the crowd, I see my uncle right up front, smiling as always. But the face that sends a dart to my chest is Elias’s. His gaze sticks to me like magnets to steel, and I feel a static charge envelop me.

When my act is complete, I watch the rest of the show from the side stage, and I’m still high from my performance when my old teacher, Madame Laurent, taps my shoulder.

“Sage, I’ve seen your clips online. My students absolutely love you,” she gushes.

After a performance, it’s hard to reel in my emotions, so my eyes water when I hug her tight. Amy Laurent has been a constant in my life from the age of eleven to eighteen, so she’s seen me grow through all the big phases of my life.

“How have you been?”

Her sweet query makes me smile because I remember her as the strict ballet teacher who always pushed me to the limit. “Auditioning. I’m waiting to secure an audition for Swan Lake.”

“Your goals haven’t changed, but you have,” she says thoughtfully. “And the moment they see you dance, you’ll be in. I’m sure of it.” Then she cocks her head. “Is the hockey player in the front row your boyfriend? I’d like to meet him after the show.”

I nod, and I’m hoping she doesn’t see what just a mention of him does to my face.

Shortly after, we assemble back onstage for our final bow and performance notes from our directors. When I head to the main lobby of the school, I spot my uncle.

“You killed it. Amy was ecstatic to have you perform the guest role,” he says.

For the longest time, I thought Madame Laurent and my uncle would make a great couple. He was in a relationship a few years back, so I never said anything. But now is perfect.

“She’s single, you know.”

“I see your teenage dream of us getting together hasn’t gone away.”

Uncle Marcus broke up with his fiancée a few years ago. He never talks about it, and I never ask, but I’ve always had a feeling it was because of us. I doubt that any woman would be okay with her partner neglecting her for the children of his drug-addicted half brother.

“Never.”

He gives me a stony look. “Come on, I’ll drop you at home.”

It’s then I realize he has no clue about my disastrous apartment fire or that I’m living with his rookie. “I’m going to stay a bit.” I try to ignore the conversation we should be having.

He’s impassive. “It’s hard to miss a six-foot-four hockey player in the crowd, Sage.”

My face feels hot. “I meant to tell you.”

“Before or after he announced it in an interview on live television?”

I wince.

“I know you’re an adult, and you can make your own decisions. But just let me be a part of some of them, yeah? Even if I’m not particularly enthused about this one.”

“He’s a good guy, Uncle Marcus. You haven’t even given him a chance.”

“Trust me, I’ve given him a chance.”

As if on cue, Elias comes up behind me, sliding his arm around my waist like any regular boyfriend. That doesn’t stop my breath from hitching though.