I didn’t have an answer to her question. She had definitely acted very curiously.
“Maybe because you are in love with him?” I suggested.
The color drained from Aurora’s face. “Shhhh. I don’t want him to know!”
I wouldn’t have been surprised if he did know. Nevio was better at reading people than me. Even if he didn’t care about their emotions, he filed them away in case he needed them. He probably just chose to ignore Aurora’s crush because he wasn’t interested in her for various reasons and out of respect for Fabiano.
I had never talked about Aurora to him.
“Don’t tell him, okay? I swear I won’t tell anyone about Amo, but please don’t say anything to anyone about Nevio.”
“Okay.” I wouldn’t have told anyone anyway. Aurora’s emotional state was her personal affair, not anyone’s business. Her feelings for Nevio didn’t hurt anyone.
My feelings for Amo? They had the potential to leave behind wreckage. And yet, I’d go to New York in a week to see him.
My heart beat frantically, the noises around me pulsating in my head, whooshing in my ears, chasing my pulse. Then the first cords filled the theater and I briefly closed my eyes. I lost myself to the music, to the feel of the stage beneath my feet. I breathed in the warm air, let it fill me with purpose. The rattling of the Metro and the honking of the taxis soon faded to the background. I forgot about the many judgmental looks that wanted to take apart every move until all that made this so beautiful was washed away.
I’d danced Giselle Act 1 Variation countless times. It was one of my absolute favorite ballets but I’d never felt it as deeply as I did today. The deep infatuation of Giselle, her happiness when she was with Albrecht. Then later when the harsh truth burst through the heroine’s bubble of innocence, her franticness in every twirl and jump as she realized the hopelessness of her love.
On the last accord of the piece I stopped, my breathing fast but at the same time I felt beautifully calm.
I opened my eyes, taking in my surroundings, and noticed someone in one of the back rows. No one ever sat there during rehearsals. The trainers and my fellow dancers either watched from the front row or from backstage.
Heat filled my cheeks and my belly. In my mind I’d danced for him without even knowing he was there.
Amo sat in the second to last row, shrouded in shadows so I couldn’t see his expression. My heart jolted, filling with a longing I could hardly explain. The teacher clapped her hands once, ripping me from the moment.
I turned to her. She motioned a boy called Mika forward. He was a couple of years younger than me. Tension filled my body. Dancing with others was and had always been the hurdle I had trouble jumping over. It was what was holding me back, why I preferred to dance alone at night, even if my old teacher had once said I was wasting a precious talent.
But if I wanted any chance at becoming part of this ballet program, I’d have to dance with a partner. It was why I’d originally intended to cancel this rehearsal and when I’d flown to New York, I’d still been convinced I wouldn’t dance at all, only try to meet with Amo. I hadn’t known he’d come here. He hadn’t contacted me since our phone call but I’d known he’d find a way to see me. I’d had absolute faith.
But now as I stood on stage, I wanted to give it my all, even if it required a major mental effort. I knew why Nevio and Dad had allowed me to come here. Because they knew I’d never make the program. Nevio knew me better than I knew myself, every fear and every longing.
I knew his darkness and he knew mine.
Mika held out his hand, palm upward, his expression focused, barely taking me in. I hesitated. After almost a minute, his expression became confused. I forced my arm to move until my hand rested on his. His skin was too warm and clammy. The floor pressed too hard against my soles and the AC whistled in my ears. The smell of sweat and dust and old rubber clogged my nose. My heart and pulse pounded too loudly.
I swallowed and even that sound rang too loud in my ears.
“Ready?” Mika asked, and I flinched as the sound echoed in my head.
Too much. But I nodded anyway. I had come here and I would do my best. Dancing was my passion. It helped me whenever everything felt too much. It calmed the chaos in my head when nothing else could. I wouldn’t give up without giving it my all.
Watching Greta dance took my fucking breath away every time.
How could one girl be so beautiful and graceful?
I ignored the occasional glance from ballet dancers and their families. Fear mingled with curiosity on their faces. Maybe they thought I was Greta’s bodyguard. Fabiano managed to look less suspicious than me. If they even knew who she was. Greta was someone who didn’t seek the spotlight even if she belonged there.