“Scarlett? Scarlett!”
I lifted my head, my breaths shallow.
Shit. The rest of the cast had stopped rehearsing and were staring at me, their faces painted with varying shades of concern, annoyance, and judgment.
Humiliation crawled over my skin like fire ants over broken soil.
“Are you okay?” Tamara asked. She was the one who’d called my name, and her brow pinched with worry as she ran her eyes over me. “If you’re not feeling well—”
“No. I’m fine.” I straightened and swallowed the bile in my throat. “I didn’t hydrate enough and got dizzy, but I can finish rehearsals. I promise.”
I was not going to quit practice. I refused to run away with my tail tucked between my legs after one misstep, and I’d never willingly quit anything I’d committed to in my life. I wasn’t going to start now.
Tamara appeared dubious, but she didn’t argue. We were already behind, and the other staff members looked restless.
The music started again. Thankfully, the choreography came back to me, but I never recovered from my first mistake. I either missed my cues or I was off by half a count, which threw the others off their counts. It was a disaster, and by the time rehearsals ended, I wanted to cry.
I slunk off the stage, my head down, but I caught snippets of my colleagues’ whispered conversations.
“What a waste of an afternoon.”
“I hope Yvette doesn’t get injured before the showcase, or the performance will be a nightmare.”
“Why did Lavinia make her an understudy? She didn’t even audition.”
Tears clogged my throat. I didn’t blame them for being skeptical. If I were them, I’d be irritated with me too.
I was so wrapped up in my mortification, I forgot about the person who’d entered mid-rehearsal until I heard his voice.
“Scarlett.”
My feet stilled.
One blink peeled the shadows away from the seats and carpet, revealing a familiar muscled frame and sculpted cheekbones. A pleat of concern creased his brow, but his eyes were soft when they landed on me.
Asher.
The auditorium had emptied out, so it was just the two of us, and the echo of my name lingered.
Scarlett.
That was all it took.
The tears climbed up my throat and tore loose with a small sob. Once the first broke free, the rest followed, filling the cavernous space with the humiliating sound of my failure.
I hated crying in public, but my threads of control had frayed with each minute of rehearsal. I’d reached the end of my restraint, and all it took was finding one safe shelter before I broke down.
Asher was by my side in an instant, his arms encircling me as I pressed my tear-dampened face into his chest. He didn’t say a word. He just held me, his embrace so strong and steady, I was sure it could withstand even the most devastating of storms.
“I screwed up,” I sobbed. “The rehearsal. I screwed it all up. I forgot the choreography, I threw everyone off, I…” A hiccup split my self-loathing in half. “I can’t do it. I’m not even the principal, and I’m already making a mess of things.”
Past me would’ve slapped present me over the words leaving my mouth. I’d believed anyone could do anything if they tried hard enough, but I was tired of having to try so hard.
Some days, it was a struggle just to get out of bed. I was constantly at war with my body, my emotions, and everything that should’ve been on my side but wasn’t.
I was exhausted. All I wanted was to stay here forever, surrounded by Asher’s warmth and the reassuring beats of his heart. Here, I didn’t have to try. I could just…be.
“You can do it.” Firmness underlaid his otherwise gentle tone. “This is the first time you’ve performed with a cast in years. Give yourself the grace to grow.”
“To grow and do what? They’ll never let me sub in for Yvette now,” I said, my voice small. I didn’t want to sub in for Yvette. If I fucked up during the performance the way I had in rehearsals, I’d never be able to show my face at RAB again. I’d never be able to look at myself in the mirror again. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Lavinia calls me into her office tomorrow and takes the understudy role away from me.”
My tears finally slowed to a trickle. I pulled away from Asher’s chest and swiped angrily at my cheeks. “I should’ve practiced more, but I’m…” I’m afraid.
I was too embarrassed to voice the insecurity out loud.
My doctor said I could dance as long as I didn’t overdo it, but I worried that I had to overdo it in order to master the choreography. I was rusty after years away from dancing. I did fine in the opening scene before I got distracted and everything went to hell, but could I sustain that through multiple practices and a full performance?
Surprisingly, my muscles weren’t screaming after the day’s exertions, but they were fickle. They were fine one day and agonizing the next.
Even if I could sustain that level of performance, I had to contend with the psychological pressure of being onstage again. What if my memories sucked me back into the abyss during the showcase? What if I froze again and became a laughingstock? How could my students take me seriously if I couldn’t master one performance?
Despite bouts of nostalgia for my old career, I loved my job at RAB. I’d clawed my way out of a hole of bitterness and resentment to build a new life here, and I didn’t want to jeopardize it.
“If you want to practice more, we can practice more. It’s not too late.” Asher’s thumb skimmed over my cheek and wiped away a stray tear. His eyes searched my face. “Do you want to practice more?”
Different responses rushed to the tip of my tongue.
Yes. No. I don’t know.
