Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(113)

Shay begins to tense as much as me. Please twenty-nine.

“Nineteen and…”

Helen flips another page.

“Twenty-one.”

I shut my eyes, a swift kick to my chest. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. It’s barely processing… you didn’t make the cut, Thora.

Stop. I don’t want to hear it yet. I can’t…

“Congratulations to every number I called. To those I didn’t, there may be spots open next year. So we encourage you to submit videos again. You were all great, but you’re just not what we’re looking for at this time.”

These are the horrifying facts that keep berating me: I spent seven months in Vegas. Away from family. Pushing my body to its limitations. Stepping outside my comfort zone. Struggling to support myself. I tried. I tried so hard.

And then Shay flew here. One day. One time.

And he made it.

I can always try again. There’s always next year. But it’s exhausting. Mentally, emotionally, physically, financially—there are reasons why people give up after a while. Why they move on.

“Thora…” Shay squeezes my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

I slowly rise to my feet, my eyes welling. And I collect my gym bag before I break down in front of him. “I’ll see you later?” My voice is a whisper.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll text you, okay?”

I nod stiffly and dazedly exit. Now what do I do. I pause in the middle of the hallway and think where do I go from here?

I’m lost.

I let out a tight breath; my body is hot as nausea brims. I need air. I need a lot of things, but air is definitely the easiest to obtain. So I ride up the elevator, a few other dejected acrobats with me. And then I walk through The Masquerade’s lobby, following the signs to the pool.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

I’m crying.

“Thora!”

The voice comes as soon as I push through the doors, into the chilly forty-degree night, high-rises lit and dazzling. Cars honking. The city never sleeping. It’s exactly the same as it was seven months ago. Those noises, those smells, those lights.

Nothing has changed besides the person behind me.

“It’s fine…” I barely whisper, not able to look Nikolai face-to-face. He must’ve been waiting for me in the lobby. And I didn’t see him.

I just set my bag on one of the white lounge chairs. The enormous pool is black in the darkness. I numbly head towards it.

“Thora!” Nikolai calls, his voice nearer.

Wake up, Thora James.

I need to wake up.

For once in my life. I don’t want to be hurt anymore by failures. I just want to succeed. Please. I shut my eyes. And I walk straight into the water, the icy plunge enough to grip my chest.

I stay beneath for a second.

And I scream.

As loud as I can.

Emotions barreling into me. I just scream.

My voice is lost in the water, but everything pours out of me.

Then a figure splashes down beneath and scoops me in his arms. My head breaches the surface with Nikolai’s and I gasp, the cold even worse up here. But I feel better.

Without a word, he pulls me out of the water. I wobbly stand, my teeth chattering. He towers above me with the most concerned look.

“I’m…okay. I just…I needed that,” I try to explain, tears rising again. No, don’t cry.

“You didn’t make it,” he assumes right.

I nod, watching water drip from his shaking body, the cold biting our skin. His gray shirt is plastered to his chest, his jeans soaked. I can tell he wants to lift me in his arms and carry me to warmth, but I’d rather stay outside. I feel less in a daze. So I walk to one of the outside cabanas with an overhang and pillows.

I rub my nose with the back of my hand.

Nikolai collects a few white pool towels from the take one, please stand. And when he returns, I already claim a seat on the soft cream cushion, hugging a navy-blue pillow to my wet body.

He pushes the long strands of his damp hair back, and climbs on, spreading his legs in front of me so I fit more between them. But he’s still facing me. Which means he wants to talk. A serious talk.

“You don’t…have to say anything,” I tell him.

He wraps two of the towels around my shoulders. “I have to.” He uses the other to dry his hair that keeps dripping. “This isn’t over, Thora.”

I laugh weakly, my voice cracking. “That’s what I always say, you know? It’s not over yet.” I point at my chest. “I can do this.” My chin trembles and I shake my head a couple times. “But I can’t do this anymore…I can’t spend another year trying just to see the same outcome.” I stare off, my eyes pooled with hot tears. “I’ve been defeated…okay?”

He cups my face with one hand, brushing away my tears. “No, myshka. I’m not okay with that.”

Why can’t he let me give up? “Let me give up,” I say, pain fisting my lungs. “I don’t want to fight for this anymore.”

“Let’s go down to the office.”

My body shudders with a cry. “No.” I’m done.

He pulls me closer. “Let’s tell them the truth.”