FADING (A novel)(56)

“This time . . . feel it, Candace. Really feel it. Let it out.”

I nod my head and silently take my position again as the music pounds through the room. Making my way through the steps, my toes are aching, but I push through again. I can hear the frustration in Ms. Emerson when she yells over the music. “Feel it, Candace! You’re dead behind the movements . . . Make that spotting stronger!” CLAP CLAP CLAP “Hit those fouettès . . . Smooth out that demi right there. I’m getting nothing! Feel, Candace!”

She shuts off the music, and I stop, standing in the center of the floor when she walks toward me.

Speaking softly, she says, “Whatever walls you have built this year, you need to break them down. I’m getting nothing from you. You feel nothing.”

“Yes,” I say breathlessly as I nod my head.

“We spoke about this earlier, but I’m not seeing any changes. This is a powerful piece of music. In my opinion, the best piece of all the girls, but you’re wasting it. Whatever this is . . . fix it.”

“Okay.” And before I can say anything else, she turns to leave.

When the door closes behind her, I let out my pent up frustration and scream through my clenched teeth. Ripping off my pointes, I throw them hard across the room. I lie back on the floor, taking a few deep breaths and feel the tears welling up. My emotions are on edge after being so harshly berated for the past two hours. I squeeze my eyes shut and feel the tears as they roll down my temples and into my hair. I throw my arm over my head and continue to breathe in and out slowly.

Letting a few minutes pass, I grab my things and leave. I just want to go home, shower, and try not to think about this disastrous rehearsal. I slam the door open when I walk out, and I’m shocked when I see Ryan leaning up against my car. Shit! I completely forgot that he would be here. Quickly, I wipe the tears off my cheeks and try to pull myself together fast. But before I can start walking, he’s standing in front of me with both hands cupping my face.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, honestly. Just a tough rehearsal.” My voice comes out wobbly, and I hate that.

Ryan stares down at me with a clenched jaw. Taking his thumbs, he wipes my damp cheeks. The tender action breaks my strong fa?ade, and I fall into his chest allowing the comfort of his arms as they wrap around me. He cradles the back of my head with his hand the same way Jase does when he hugs me, but this feels different. His hold is strong and tight, and I let myself soften into him. Aside from Jase and Mark, there is no one that I ever let touch me like this. I know it isn’t much, but it’s difficult for me. Being in Ryan’s embrace feels safe, so I wrap my arms around his waist as we stand in the empty parking lot.

When I start to pull back from him, he asks again, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nod my head, uncertain of how my voice might sound.

Ryan takes the bag off of my shoulder and drapes his arm around me. “Come on,” he says as he starts walking me to his jeep.

I don’t ask where we are going, and honestly, I’m too worn out to really care. He helps me into his car, and when he closes the door, I rest my head against the back of the seat and close my eyes. Ryan doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t even turn on the music as we drive. It’s only a few minutes later when the car stops in front of his loft.

When we get upstairs, I sit on the couch in his living room while he gets me a bottle of water from the kitchen. He sits down next to me, and I gulp the water down quickly.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. After being yelled at for two hours, I just . . .”

“Don’t worry,” he says as he puts his arm around me and draws me closer to his side.

Leaning my head back on the couch, I say, “No . . . It’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t let it be,” he says.

“Can I ask you a huge favor?”

“Anything.”

“Do you have dry shirt I can change into? I’ve been dancing for the past few hours, and I’m sweaty and stinky.”

He laughs at me and says, “You don’t stink at all actually.”

“Liar.”

“I’ll be right back.” I watch Ryan as he head up the stairs, to what I presume is his bedroom.

“You need socks?” he yells down.

“Please. It’s cold,” I say.

When he comes back down, he hands me his clothes and shows me to the guest bathroom. “Thanks. Just give me a few minutes.”

“Take your time.”

I turn on the faucet and wait for the water to run hot. I open the linen closet and find a washcloth. When I take off my clothes, I wet the washcloth and freshen up as best as I can. I slip on his old UW shirt and a pair of his pajama pants, leaving my dirty clothes folded on the side of the sink. His clothes are huge on me, and I have to tug on the ties of his pants to cinch up the waist and rollup up the waistband several times, but the pants still drag on the floor.

Walking back into the living room, Ryan is sitting back on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV. I sit down next to him, and he grabs the bun that is still secured on the top of my head and laughs. “This is cute,” he teases me.

I swat his hand away. “Whatever.”

“Come here,” he says, and I lean back on the couch with him. “So, what happened?”