Page 36 of Devil's Thirst
I feel regret.
I feel dirty.
My spiraling thoughts and Isaac’s incessant stare keep me from focusing on the moves. I didn’t plan to actually mess up, but my head is in too many places at once. I make a half-second error, prompting Andrey to stop.
“I didn’t notice any issues with this dance earlier,” he notes curiously.
Embarrassment blazes across my cheeks, sparked for a half dozen different reasons. I can hardly meet his gaze, nor can I summon the courage to peek at my surly neighbor fuming in the aisle.
“I think it’s just a mental hiccup. I’m probably more tired than I realized.”
Andrey cups my cheeks and brings my gaze to his. “These things are normal, Amelie. Do not let it get to your head.”
I nod, emotions constricting around my throat as commanding footsteps march up the wood stairs at the side of the stage.
Andrey releases me, his brow furrowed. “I am busy this weekend but have time Monday evening. You should come to my home studio, and we can do a few passes so it doesn’t create a block. Will that work?”
“Okay, yeah.” At this point, I’ll do anything to find a way off this horrible stage. I need to disappear.
“Amelie, we’re going to be late if we don’t get going.” Isaac’s voice, flat yet unyielding, slaps at my back. To anyone else, he probably sounds like a bored boyfriend not wanting to miss a dinner reservation.
I know better.
We’re not late for anything, and Isaac is furious.
I’m lost in my own swell of emotions, but I’ll be damned if I put on a show for my fellow dancers. I turn and smile broadly as if his appearance is an unexpected delight.
“Oh! Hey, babe. Sorry about that. I’ll grab my things.” I shoot a catty glance at the dancer who’d been flirting with him because I’m human, after all, then stride quickly back to the dressing room. I switch to my sneakers and grab my things. I’m about to run back out front when Hazel snags me by the arm.
“Not much to tell—girl, is thathim?”
Hell, I’m in trouble.
“Yes, and I know. I’m sorry, but it’s complicated!” I toss over my shoulder the second she releases me. There’ll be no escaping her questions the next time I see her.
The second I close in on Isaac, he wordlessly turns and leads us up the sloped aisle to the lobby. I scurry behind him like a chastened child. I hate that I can’t simply be mad at him.That’s how this whole thing started, but I’m too conditioned to appease. Acting out in any way makes me feel ill. I’m literally sick to my stomach.
Isaac is silent on the short drive to our building. I force myself to use the time to think rather than blurt whatever I can to ease the tension. I need to be intentional to work toward my ultimate goal instead of bumbling out of control.
I wait until the car is parked in the garage before vocalizing my thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I was lashing out, and I shouldn’t have.”
Isaac stills but doesn’t respond before exiting the car. I do the same, wondering if he will say anything at all when he finally speaks.
“I give you a reason to lash out?” he asks quietly.
My instinct is to deny and take the blame, but I remind myself I’m making a go at honest communication. No matter where this strange relationship goes from here, I want to be proud of how I’ve handled myself. I already carry enough shame. I don’t need to shoulder any more.
“That girl was touching you, and you were smiling at her.”
“Feels pretty shitty, doesn’t it,” he murmurs, jabbing about my stunt with Andrey.
“Yeah, but dancing with a partner is different. I can’tnottouch my dance partner,” I point out, choosing to sidestep the fact that I’d used the dance in a malicious fashion. “You didn’t have to look so happy with her flirting.”
“You’re right. I didn’t have to, but I also didn’t want to make a scene in front of all the people you work with. I tried to be polite for your sake. And I know what dancing entails. That wasn’t what pissed me off.” Isaac presses the elevator call button and turns to me. “What I don’t like is the fact that you did it intentionally to upset meandagreed to go to his place for aprivatepracticesession.” He says the word with disgust, raising my defenses.
“Opening night is just over two weeks away.” My voice wavers. I want to defend myself, but I hadn’t even considered that he was trying to be respectful of my workplace. I realize I may have been wrong on that count. Practices with my co-lead, however, are a must.