Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(46)

Really, the choice isn’t hard at all.





Act Sixteen Baylee Wright



The Masquerade uses their third-floor conference rooms for banquets, family reunions, conventions, and apparently sexual harassment seminars, set-up purely for the seven of us.

We’ve been sitting on uncomfortable fold-out chairs, facing a blank projector screen, for about an hour now. Geoffrey emailed and said the lecturer was running late. And apparently so is Luka.

“It’s all a lie,” Zhen theorizes between Brenden and me.

“Geoffrey wants us to sit in silence,” Brenden agrees.

“We’re in time-out.”

“No one is coming.”

I stand up, needing to walk around and to mentally separate myself from Brenden and Zhen. My temples pound and my stomach growls. None of us had time to grab food, and it’s already 8 p.m.

I did spare a second to snatch my journal from my bunk.

Even though I’m slightly terrified, I’m giving my list to Luka tonight. No welching. No backing out at last minute. I’ve cemented my decision in my mind.

My palms sweat the longer he’s absent. I slide down the gold wallpaper and sit on the cream carpet, journal clutched tight. I worry that Luka won’t show up and it’s some grand sign from the universe. Telling me that I’m not supposed to reach out to him.

Yelling at me to stop.

I swallow hard and observe my surroundings. Sergei sleeps upright on his chair next to a preoccupied Dimitri who texts on his phone.

Thora reads a paranormal romance novel, and her scowl withdraws when she casts smiles to the door. In the squared window, I spot the outline of her tall boyfriend pacing back and forth. Nikolai has been outside for five minutes, waiting for this to end too.

“Maybe we should feel badly,” Zhen suddenly says from the front row. “We laughed at something inappropriate. We embarrassed our choreographer.”

Dimitri pockets his cell. “You better be joking.”

“I’m not.” Zhen turns partially around. “I can’t expect you to understand, but we are in the wrong. Whether we put together the prank or not.”

Brenden thinks about this. “Zhen’s probably right.”

Dimitri leans back. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Zhen? I can’t understand? Understand what? Sexual harassment? If this is about Baylee’s juggling balls, we’ve been here. She doesn’t care what I call them. I asked.”

I don’t want to take sides in fights that have already ended years ago. Or at least, they were supposed to end.

“This seminar could help everyone,” Thora chimes in, trying to mediate. “I mean, it could be fun? Who knows…?”

Dimitri gives her a once-over. “Fun? Does the chair and the floor excite you too?”

“Dimitri,” Zhen says with the shake of his head.

“I said excite, not arouse.” Dimitri outstretches his arms, but off of Zhen’s stone-cold disapproval, his defenses lower. “Fine. I’ll take the seminar seriously.”

“Thank you.”

My mind reels, and from the floor, I end up saying, “You know who should’ve been called into one of these seminars? Kirk Evans.”

The second I let loose Kirk’s name, Luka saunters inside the conference room. He carries three to-go bags with a bright red Retrograde logo, an Elvis-themed diner inside the Masquerade.

“Who’s Kirk Evans?” Sergei yawns, waking up.

Luka holds my gaze as he nears the cluster of metal chairs. So much is buried beneath that single look—I can’t even uncover all the sentiments. My chest falls in a shallow breath.

“A dick,” Dimitri says curtly.

“What’d he do?” Thora asks. She’s really new to AE and hasn’t been around for the huge drama.

Luka is almost invisible to everyone. He sets down two to-go bags on an empty chair. I have trouble watching anyone else but him.

As the air conditioning kicks in, Brenden zips up his windbreaker, and he answers, “Kirk ‘jokingly’ opened shower curtains on girls.”

“No,” Sergei says, disbelieving.

“Yeah.” Brenden nods. “And he thought it’d be funny to slap all of their asses before opening night.”

Including mine.

Luka looks at me again. Noticing me staring. He actually…he starts to walk over. I sit up straighter, knees bent.

Thora scowls. “Kirk was fired then?”

The room tenses.

“No,” Zhen replies. “He was transferred to Montreal.”

“Last I heard,” Brenden says, “he got a raise.”

Aerial Ethereal might’ve done little to nothing, but Kirk did get decked in the face—by none other than Dimitri Kotova. He doesn’t unearth that fact. He’s competitive when it comes to Nikolai, but with other things, Dimitri doesn’t really ask for praise.

A few feet away from me, Luka glances back at the others. “Hey, I brought food.”

Dimitri reaches for a bag. “Thank God.”

Brenden glares. “Stolen?”

“Greasy?” Zhen wonders, plucking a second bag.

“Receipt’s inside, and it’s mostly grilled chicken and vegetables.”

If he were anyone else, Brenden would immediately say thank you but a painful, awkward second passes. Luka doesn’t acknowledge me until Zhen hands Brenden a to-go container and inspects the contents. My brother finally nods to Luka in appreciation.