Prima - Alta Hensley Page 0,27

on all the nonstop training I had been doing to prepare for this moment. But now all that confidence was gone.

What the hell am I doing here? Why did I ever think that this was going to be a good idea?

I wished my grandmother could be sitting in the crowd somewhere, but I’d insisted she remain at home. Despite her assurance she would be fine, I knew the arthritis was too painful to allow her to sit comfortably in one place for very long. Even though I would feel a million times better if she was there, I’d promised to replay each step to her once I returned home. It had to be enough, but I couldn’t help being selfish and wanting her near. I also wondered where Alek was.

I had Yuri and the other dancers around me, standing close in the tight confines of the wing as my costume was given the final inspection, a few snips of a tiny pair of scissors removing a stray thread that dared to appear on this special night, but I’d not set eyes on Alek. Ever since that kiss, he had been keeping his distance. He wasn’t exactly cold, but he always seemed busy, going to his office and closing the door when I was around. I didn’t exactly have much time between the nonstop rehearsals, but I still had hoped he would step backstage for a moment before the house lights dimmed.

I needed him.

I needed that positive energy.

I needed the man who’d spoken of the Golden Buddha right now.

I sucked in a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm my panic-stricken body, but it didn’t do much good. My heart still raced away, my palms were still sweaty, and I trembled all over.

Think about the dance, I told myself. Focus on how you’re going to show everyone Alek Volkov didn’t make a mistake that day he showed up at the house. Prove to every naysayer the ballerina still lives inside you.

As bells chimed softly, and the lights went low, the music soared, the soft whisper of curtains opening sounded, and the first dancers leapt onto the stage. The magic of the ballet descended over me as I forced out all my negative thoughts and, with a final deep breath, I lifted my arms and joined my company… and heard the loud mass of boos ringing out, just for me.

Booo.

You suck.

You’re a fraud.

Has been.

Go home, you cheat!

Get off the stage.

Why would they let her on the stage?

I almost stumbled, arms beginning to drop, when Jordan, my partner, caught my eye and gave a slight scowl and an almost indiscernible movement of pulling his shoulders back.

Don’t you fucking dare screw this up, he said without so much as moving his lips. It was enough to realize the words and accusations had only played in my head. It was up to me to assure they were never actually uttered again.

The hatred wouldn’t last forever unless I let it. I had proven I could dance and, with time, I could win people back around. I could prove I was a different person now. I could earn their respect again. I just needed to weather this storm first. If I danced my heart out, if I gave it my all, I might even be able to start winning their hearts again.

Tuning out all but the music, a tensing of muscles allowed me to leap high into the air where Jordan was waiting to catch me. With his firm grip around my calves, I arched my back and extended my arms until he slid me down his body and only my toes touched the floor. I spun in circles so rapidly the audience became nothing more than a blur. The hundreds of hours of preparation were a godsend and allowed me to forget everything but the beauty of the dance.

Arabesque…

Allégro…

Balloné…

Dégagé…

Fouetté…

And every form of jeté that was possible…

I did them all. I dipped and arched. I spun and leapt. I did not miss a single beat until I sank into a low curtsy, my head bowed, arms posed precisely in front of me, each finger perfectly splayed as the last mournful note was played.

I’d done it.

No matter what anyone said, I’d danced every step with not only my whole heart, but my entire soul.

Silence descended, the roar of my blood through my veins echoing in my head until I realized it wasn’t the sound of my blood.

It was the thunder of applause.

Applause.

They were actually clapping for me. Not