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Page 155 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

My tongue took on the taste and texture of the Sahara. I opened my mouth, but no words rushed to my rescue.

I sat there, pinned like a bug beneath Lavinia’s stare while my body quaked from the aftermath of my rehearsal.

Performing again in theory was one thing. Actually doing it was another.

I pushed myself in practice forme.I wanted to prove tomyselfthat I could do it, but I’d always operated within the safe confines of my understudy role.

Yvette’s departure shattered those confines and exposed me to the terror of putting myself out there again. I remembered how badly I’d screwed up my first and, so far, only rehearsal with the cast. How hard I’d had to push just to get through today’s thirty-minute practice.

It didn’t matter that I’d gotten through a majority of my practices without incident. It only took one bad night to screw things up, and since the December staff showcase was a one-time performance, I didn’tgeta second chance. I needed to be perfect.

Panic drenched my palms with cold sweat.

“Scarlett?” Lavinia prompted.

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean…” I winced when her eyebrows arched. “That won’t be a problem.

“Good. I’ll let the rest of the cast know. Tamara will reach out with more details.” Lavinia peered at me over her glasses. “I expect cast rehearsals will go smoothly in the future.”

Judging by her tone, she knew about my screw-up earlier this summer.

I wanted to sink through the floor and die, but I forced a bright smile. “Yes. I won’t let you down.”

I left her office in a daze. Carina was on a toilet break when I got out, but instead of waiting for her, I returned to my studio and called the only person who could calm the nausea roiling my stomach.

“Hi, darling.” Asher’s voice flowed over the line. “Miss me already?”

My smile wobbled. “Actually, yes. How’s your first day back?”

Today was the official start of Blackcastle’s preseason training. It was our first Monday apart in months, and I felt his absence like a gaping hole in my chest.

“It was good, but Vincent and I have a meeting with Coach in ten. We’ll see how that goes.”

“Hey, you two are finally getting along. He should be happy.”

“He should.” I heard male laughter and chatter in the background. He must be in the changing room. “But I’m guessing you didn’t call me in the middle of work to discuss football.”

“No,” I admitted. I told him about my conversation with Lavinia but not about my flare-up after practice. I didn’t want Asher to freak out or get distracted. I could handle this on my own.

“Wow.” He whistled when I finished. “What a way to start the week.”

“I know.” I stared at my pale, disheveled reflection in the studio’s mirrors. I was still riding the carousel of dizziness, but Asher’s voice kept me grounded enough to get through the conversation without shaking.

“How do you feel about being the lead?” A note of caution crept through his words.

“Whatdon’tI feel? Nervous, terrified, nauseous, a little excited. I honestly haven’t processed it yet.” I leaned my head back against the wall. “Ask me again in seventy-two hours.”

He laughed. “You got it.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to call and tell you. If I waited until tonight, I might’ve combusted, but I don’t want to keep you any longer.” I dreaded hanging up, but I couldn’t use him as a security blanket forever. “Good luck with your meeting.”

“Thanks.” I heard the smile in his voice. “And Scarlett? For what it’s worth, I think you’ll kill it as Lorena.”

My lips tipped up, but they slowly flattened again after I ended our call.

Asher, Vincent, Yvette, Emma, the showcase, the pain, the threat of the paparazzi…all the loose threads in my life, big and small, swirled inside me. They tangled together and formed a rope in my chest, pulling tighter and tighter until it nearly cut off my supply of oxygen.

Sometimes, merely existing took too much energy, so I closed my eyes and tried to breathe.




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