Dancing for the Lord The Academy - By Emily Goodman Page 0,62

necessary and how many of them just lived there all the time.”

“Right.” Nick raised an eyebrow. “How many of them just lived there?”

“Have you seen my dance bag?” she replied.

“I haven’t gone through it.” Any other time, all he would’ve had to do was look in it. Normally, when she was in his room, the bag was tossed into a corner, just as his ended up there when he was in hers. Generally, one was on top of the other—the one on the bottom depending on whose room they were in. On this particular day, however, Danni didn’t have hers with her.

It was odd how strange he considered that, Nick thought.

“I carry more junk than is absolutely necessary—but all of it comes in handy every once in awhile.” She grinned. “I bet he forgets the camera.”

“Camera?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a ritual, see: we always take pictures backstage right before the performance. Our parents jump up and get them later; but we want our own before we end up all mussed and everything.”

“Ah.” Nick nodded, pretending to understand. Nearly every dancer he knew had some sort of pre-performance ritual; the pictures were one that Danni and Michael had shared. “So, are you going to get pictures of us tonight?”

“Of course!” She grinned. “I’ll send them to Michael and guilt him for not having backstage pictures to send back to me.”

“Well of course.” He shook his head. “What would The Nutcracker be without a good case of guilt?”

“He won’t feel that guilty,” Danni informed him.

That warning was more important than he’d initially thought, he realized suddenly, several seconds later. He’d thought it was an absent comment—and maybe it had been—but it was more than that, too. Danni would never do anything that might hurt Michael—not even sending him on a guilt trip over forgetting a silly ritual. If she had been worried, even for a moment, that it would really bother him, she wouldn’t have done it.

Just like she would never do anything that would really bother him.

Nick’s arm tightened around her shoulders, and he drew her a little bit closer to him. Lord, I really struck gold with this one, he prayed silently. Just…help me keep her, okay? Let me be good enough for her. I know I wasn’t good enough for Kat…but I think Danni might like me, at least a little.

Chapter Eleven

Somehow, Nicholas made it to the performance that night. He and Danni both know that he hadn’t been able to do nearly enough damage control on his shoulder; but she also understood the pride that wouldn’t allow him to step down.

He didn’t have an understudy, either. If he stepped down, whoever stepped into his place was going to have little idea of what they were doing, and absolutely no time to practice. There was no one else who had gone over the steps with Danni—no one save Josh and Logan who had even danced with her once, and both of them had integral roles in the ballet.

They would get him through this evening—one way or the other.

Danni waited in the wings throughout the entire first act of the ballet. She knew full well that there wasn’t room to clutter up the space back there, and she did her best to keep herself out of the way; but as she made herself inconspicuous and stayed where she could keep Nick in sight the entire time.

He went through the steps of the dance almost unconsciously, performing with the ease of someone who had been over that routine over and over again, until they no longer had to think about the movements. If nothing else, the morning’s practice had done that much for him, giving him the ability to tune out everything going on around him and simply dance.

He wasn’t dancing for the Lord tonight. He knew it—could feel it in the leaden nature of every step, the faint slowing with every twirl. When he gave it all over and danced for God, he felt as though he was light as air, with more energy than he knew what to do with.

Tonight, he was dancing just to get by.

His only saving grace was that Danni was there. Between scenes, whenever he was off-stage, she found a moment to squeeze his shoulder gently, or even just to look into his eyes for a moment. He used her for his spot with every turn, his eyes always coming back to her.

At the worst of it—as he whisked Allie as Clara through yet another swift