The Striker (Gods of the Game Book 1)
The Striker: Chapter 39

Turn. Turn. Plié. Step back.

I was practicing for Lorena alone in my studio. I went through the motions well enough, but I found it hard to focus the way I should.

Asher and I never figured out a new strategy for telling Vincent. At this point, we were winging it and hoping the right moment would come up in conversation, which wasn’t really a strategy at all, but it was all we had.

Thankfully, Vincent didn’t suspect a thing. After his Angry Boar outing with Asher, the two developed a wary but burgeoning…well, friendship might be too strong a word. It was more like a friendly acquaintanceship.

Whatever it was, it meant the rest of our training sessions passed by smoothly. I’d hyped up the drama of Vincent’s return so much in my mind that the ease with which he transitioned back into our lives was almost unsettling.

However, as the days wound down toward the start of the season, my anxiety took flight again.

Everyone would be back in London, which meant more eyes on us and more opportunities to get caught. I understood and even agreed with Asher’s reasoning for postponing our Big Talk with my brother, but my mind couldn’t stop chasing down every scenario where things might go wrong.

What if someone captured a photo of us on the street and uploaded it online the way they did with Clive and me?

What if Vincent ran into Clive himself and the rugby player exposed us? I hadn’t talked to him since I told him we wouldn’t work after our double date, but I knew he and Asher didn’t get along.

What if Vincent found out about the private ballet studio or our trip to Japan? I managed to keep the Asia trip a secret from my brother because it was so short, and I’d blamed my delayed replies to his texts on my busy schedule. But all it took was one slip-up or errant picture on the internet to blow our cover.

Part of me wished Asher and I had been honest from the start, but it was too late. We were stuck in a web of our own design.

My worries and disjointed thoughts jumbled in my head. I was so distracted that I missed two counts and stumbled when I tried to correct myself.

“Dammit!” The curse slipped out on a bed of frustration.

I stopped, rested my forearms on the barre, and placed my head on them as I tried to reorient myself.

I couldn’t tack on my extra practices to Asher and Vincent’s training for obvious reasons, so I’d rehearsed alone since my brother’s return. Asher offered the use of his private studio in the evenings anyway, but I was too paranoid to sneak over to his house.

I’d been doing so well over the summer. However, without Asher there, I was making more mistakes. Losing focus. Questioning myself.

The noticeable change in the quality of my rehearsals added another layer of anxiety.

What if he was the secret ingredient? Could I perform in front of a crowd without him next to me, encouraging me?

My stomach cramped.

No. As much as I lov—liked Asher, I refused to make my success dependent on another person.

I didn’t care if I was practicing as an understudy and that I’d probably never get the chance to perform onstage. I was going to nail this bloody dance on my own.

I gritted my teeth against the slow creep of exhaustion and forced myself to stand again. I had ten minutes left in the ballet’s final act. I could finish it.

My body might hate me for it later, but I would hate myself more if I gave up now. It was easier to soothe physical pains than it was emotional ones, especially if they were self-inflicted.

My old therapist and doctors said my determination to push myself to my limits was toxic and unhealthy. They were right; it was, which was why I didn’t advocate my choices to others. I wouldn’t want anyone else to override their body’s warning signs the way I did mine.

But that was them and this was me. I was hard-wired for competition, which included competing against myself.

I had to win, so I pushed.

And it worked.

I restarted from where I’d stumbled and made it through to the end without botching the choreography.

I held the final position for two beats before my legs gave out and I half sank, half collapsed on the floor. Bile rose in my throat; I was either going to throw up, pass out, or both.

My muscles trembled as I tried to breathe through a white-hot blaze of pain. It engulfed my body, scalding my arms, shoulders, and legs and sinking so deep into my bones that every joint ached. A migraine pounded behind my temple, and the room seemed to tilt as I struggled to get my bearings.

Tears prickled my eyes.

I hadn’t had this terrible of a flare-up in a long, long time. I knew it was a likely outcome given how hard I’d exerted myself over the past few weeks, but I hadn’t expected to crumple so suddenly and viciously.

My emergency packet of pain pills beckoned from my bag. They were just out of arm’s reach.

I pulled my legs up to my chest and rested my head on my knees. It helped with the dizziness, but not the pain.

Every muscle screamed, but…but.

I’d finished the choreography. And I’d nailed it the second time around.

Inhale, exhale.

One, two, three, four…

By the time I reached a hundred, my tears had dried. When I reached two hundred, the needle-sharp pain had dulled into a steady ache.

Thank God I didn’t have classes for the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t want my students to walk in and replace me curled up on the floor, crying.

I’d purposely scheduled my rehearsals for the end of the day, when I was supposed to be working on my lesson plans, but I could do that at home.

Eventually, the pain and nausea faded enough for me to raise my head. The world returned in bits and pieces, starting with the intermittent buzz of my phone.

I checked and saw I had two new messages from Carina, both sent ten minutes ago.

Carina: Lavinia wants to see you

Carina: I think it has to do with the staff showcase **eyes emoji**

A groan swelled in my throat.

The last thing I wanted was to talk to the director in my current state, but I didn’t have a choice.

I took one last deep breath and dragged myself to my feet. Pins and needles shot through my leg. I had to pause and wait until they subsided before I shuffled to Lavinia’s office.

Carina’s eyes widened when she saw me. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look that bad?” I joked, but my voice came out hoarse and weak.

“No. You just…here.” She fished a wet wipe out of her purse and handed it to me. “For your makeup.”

One glance in the mirror hanging on the wall revealed my tear-smudged eyeliner and mascara tracks. Crap.

I quickly fixed myself and gave Carina a wan thanks.

“No problem. Good luck in there.” Her concerned stare followed me until I entered Lavinia’s office and shut the door behind me.

Per usual, the director cut straight to the chase.

“I’m sorry for the last-minute summons, but I figured I should tell you sooner than later.” If she noticed my shaky state from behind her desk, she didn’t comment on it.“Yvette is no longer a member of the RAB staff. Therefore, she can no longer play the role of Lorena. You’ll have to take over as the lead in the staff showcase.”

The announcement was so sudden, so unexpected, that my shock temporarily outpaced my fatigue. “She resigned?”

Yvette and I didn’t interact much, but she was a long-time employee of RAB. I couldn’t imagine her quitting in the middle of the school year, especially when she’d been cast as the lead in the staff showcase.

“Not exactly.” Lavinia’s mouth pursed with displeasure. “It has come to my attention that she was responsible for a certain…disturbance at our school earlier this summer.”

Disturbance? There hadn’t been any disturbances at RAB except for…

The paparazzi.

My jaw hit the ground. Yvette was the one who’d tipped the paps off about Asher? Why?

“I’ve been investigating the source of the leak that led to the disturbance,” Lavinia continued, deftly alluding to the situation without outright saying what it was. “I do not take kindly to trespassers, nor do I condone any actions that jeopardize the safety and privacy of our students and staff. I can’t share details, but since you were one of the directly affected parties, I can tell you that Yvette’s involvement was substantial enough to warrant her departure.”

My head spun, but this time, it had nothing to do with overexertion. “Do you know why she did it?”

The director’s elegant shrug indicated she didn’t particularly care. Punishment had been meted out, and that was what mattered.

“Money makes people do strange things.” She examined me, her expression shifting from distaste to inquisitiveness. “Will taking over her role be an issue?”

I’d been so caught off guard by the Yvette revelation that I’d glossed over the reason Lavinia called me in here.

She wanted me to take over as the lead in Lorena.

Me.

The lead.

Not an understudy waiting in the wings, but the star attraction, the one who everyone would be watching.

She couldn’t have picked a worse time to tell me if she’d tried.

My tongue took on the taste and texture of the Sahara. I opened my mouth, but no words rushed to my rescue.

I sat there, pinned like a bug beneath Lavinia’s stare while my body quaked from the aftermath of my rehearsal.

Performing again in theory was one thing. Actually doing it was another.

I pushed myself in practice for me. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, but I’d always operated within the safe confines of my understudy role.

Yvette’s departure shattered those confines and exposed me to the terror of putting myself out there again. I remembered how badly I’d screwed up my first and, so far, only rehearsal with the cast. How hard I’d had to push just to get through today’s thirty-minute practice.

It didn’t matter that I’d gotten through a majority of my practices without incident. It only took one bad night to screw things up, and since the December staff showcase was a one-time performance, I didn’t get a second chance. I needed to be perfect.

Panic drenched my palms with cold sweat.

“Scarlett?” Lavinia prompted.

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean…” I winced when her eyebrows arched. “That won’t be a problem.

“Good. I’ll let the rest of the cast know. Tamara will reach out with more details.” Lavinia peered at me over her glasses. “I expect cast rehearsals will go smoothly in the future.”

Judging by her tone, she knew about my screw-up earlier this summer.

I wanted to sink through the floor and die, but I forced a bright smile. “Yes. I won’t let you down.”

I left her office in a daze. Carina was on a toilet break when I got out, but instead of waiting for her, I returned to my studio and called the only person who could calm the nausea roiling my stomach.

“Hi, darling.” Asher’s voice flowed over the line. “Miss me already?”

My smile wobbled. “Actually, yes. How’s your first day back?”

Today was the official start of Blackcastle’s preseason training. It was our first Monday apart in months, and I felt his absence like a gaping hole in my chest.

“It was good, but Vincent and I have a meeting with Coach in ten. We’ll see how that goes.”

“Hey, you two are finally getting along. He should be happy.”

“He should.” I heard male laughter and chatter in the background. He must be in the changing room. “But I’m guessing you didn’t call me in the middle of work to discuss football.”

“No,” I admitted. I told him about my conversation with Lavinia but not about my flare-up after practice. I didn’t want Asher to freak out or get distracted. I could handle this on my own.

“Wow.” He whistled when I finished. “What a way to start the week.”

“I know.” I stared at my pale, disheveled reflection in the studio’s mirrors. I was still riding the carousel of dizziness, but Asher’s voice kept me grounded enough to get through the conversation without shaking.

“How do you feel about being the lead?” A note of caution crept through his words.

“What don’t I feel? Nervous, terrified, nauseous, a little excited. I honestly haven’t processed it yet.” I leaned my head back against the wall. “Ask me again in seventy-two hours.”

He laughed. “You got it.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to call and tell you. If I waited until tonight, I might’ve combusted, but I don’t want to keep you any longer.” I dreaded hanging up, but I couldn’t use him as a security blanket forever. “Good luck with your meeting.”

“Thanks.” I heard the smile in his voice. “And Scarlett? For what it’s worth, I think you’ll kill it as Lorena.”

My lips tipped up, but they slowly flattened again after I ended our call.

Asher, Vincent, Yvette, Emma, the showcase, the pain, the threat of the paparazzi…all the loose threads in my life, big and small, swirled inside me. They tangled together and formed a rope in my chest, pulling tighter and tighter until it nearly cut off my supply of oxygen.

Sometimes, merely existing took too much energy, so I closed my eyes and tried to breathe.

At that moment, it was all I could do.