Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(112)

Helen pockets her cell. “We have fourteen spots to fill for Somnio, two for Infini and one for Viva.”

Infini and Viva mean that I stay in Vegas.

Somnio means I travel far, far away from Nikolai.

I inhale strongly, trying to push these thoughts out.

“We’re going to test you on multiple disciplines. We’re looking for stand-out performers,” Helen explains. “Those who catch our eye will be awarded a one-year contract. At the end of the year, we’ll either ask you to renew or to leave us.” There’s not much time to digest the rest of the facts. She adds, “We’re splitting everyone up in groups of five. When I call your number, please come forward.”

I press my hand to the number 29, stuck to my black leotard, just to ensure it’s still there. That I’m still in the running.

Before Helen speaks again, I remember what Nikolai told me this morning. I was pulling my dirty-blonde hair into a tight pony while he sat on the edge of the bed.

He said, “All you need is luck. The rest, you’ll do great at.”

I smiled. “Is that my trainer speaking?”

“Yes,” he said, “but you’d probably think it’s a problem.”

I hesitated, “Why’s that?”

He stood up, towering above me with those intense grays. “Your trainer is in love with you.”

I don’t have a problem with it, not even a little bit. Nikolai is brutally honest, and he’d tell me if I sucked. He wouldn’t watch me fall flat on my face and fail. I trust his words.

I just need some luck today.

“Twenty-nine,” Helen calls.

With one last motivational breath, I rise to my feet.





Act Forty-Six



“I didn’t think you could ever do that,” Shay tells me, taking a swig from his water bottle. I wipe my forehead with my towel. The directors have been in deliberation for the past thirty minutes, so we’re all just waiting on the mats again.

“Was I okay?” I wonder, even though I know I did my personal best. They made me climb a Chinese pole, which I’d worked on with Nikolai, and I performed several drops and poses on aerial silk. I didn’t think too hard about the movements. I tried to relax my face and just follow the music.

I felt stronger. Better. More graceful.

I’m just crossing my fingers that they thought so too.

“You were awesome.” He sounds genuine. “Like I said, I never thought you could do that.”

It makes me realize how far I’ve come since the start. “You nailed that full twisting layout,” I mention. They harnessed everyone for the Russian swing, just for safety. But Shay started with some of the hardest tricks, and he landed almost all of them.

“Yeah, I got the feel of the swing pretty fast,” he says. “But I tripped up on the double.”

I give him a look. “You barely stumbled.” He’s too hard on himself. I stuff my towel in my gym bag.

“I hate when I’m a little off though. It’s like leaving the bathroom with a piece of toilet paper hanging from my pants.”

He’s always been a perfectionist with gymnastics. I think the avoidable fumbles frustrate him the most.

He takes another swig of water. “So where are we going to celebrate after?”

“The Red Death is the best club…” My voice fades as Helen and the rest of the directors exit the office and enter the gym. Everyone quiets when they parade over to the long table.

Helen is the only one left standing, her clipboard outstretched with all the answers. She clears her throat. “Thank you again for coming out. We know we have a great crop of artists here. We don’t want to keep you long, so if I call your number, please stay after to sign the necessary paperwork.”

I watch her flip a page in her clipboard, a breath caged in my lungs. I take a peek at Shay’s number on the band of his red Ohio State gym shorts: 88.

“For Viva, number thirty-three.”

Heads turn as we all silently look for the person with the number. It’s not hard to find the smiling, elated girl with a French braid.

Two more spots left for a show in Vegas. Please call twenty-nine. I repeat the mantra over and over, hoping. Just hoping.

“For Infini, numbers seventy-four and sixty-two.”

My heart sinks. It’s okay.

It’s okay.

I don’t want to picture Nikolai right now, but all I see is me leaving him. He’s altered the landscape of my aspirations, and it’s not as sunny when he’s not in it.

Shay hangs his arm around my shoulder, casually, like he’s silently saying hey, we’re going to be in the same traveling show. That’s a positive I cling to.

“For Somnio,” Helen continues, flipping another page. I inhale without the exhale. “We want numbers eighteen, five, six—” she traces the line with her finger “—forty-eight, twenty-eight.”

My heart skips at that close number. Please twenty-nine.

“Thirty,” Helen continues. “Ninety-two, eighty-eight.”

Shay’s shoulders lift at the sound of his number, and his smile explodes. I can’t hug him yet, not when Helen reads quickly and my mind has already lost count of the spots left.

“Twelve, thirty-four, thirty six, thirty-nine…”