One by one, the dancers came out—reciting a short monologue and dancing to a short piece of piano music. While most of the performers were entertaining, a few of them made me wonder if they’d simply awoken this morning and decided try ballet for the first time.
In between the sets, I could hear a few murmurs from the crowd: “Are they sure this is their best cohort?” “Maybe they should’ve canceled the season after that accident…” “Hopefully, they’ll be having nonstop rehearsals until the season actually begins…”
A man next to me was whispering about how he missed “the good old days of the company” when Aubrey stepped onto the floor.
She was wearing a thin black top and a pink tutu, and her lips were coated in a deep dark red.
“Good evening, New York City,” she said. “My name is Aubrey Everhart, and…”
She was saying something else, something that made the audience clap loudly, but I could only focus on how good she looked. I’d never admit it to anyone, but I’d kept that photo frame of us on my nightstand ever since she left—looking at her pretty face at night whenever I had a bad day.
Tonight she wasn’t “pretty,” though. She was a fucking vision.
Her mouth stopped moving amidst another round of applause from the audience, and the soft sounds of a piano and harp slowly filled the room.
Aubrey shut her eyes and started her routine, dancing as if she was the only person here.
There was an immediate change in the gala’s atmosphere. Everyone watching her was fully engaged—captivated, by her every move.
Out of nowhere, a male dancer joined her, picking her up and holding her high above his head—spinning her around as the music became harsher. After he set her down, the two of them completed steps together—smiling at each other and exchanging glances that made it clear that they knew each other a little too well.
The second the music stopped, the male dancer pulled her into his arms and kissed her lips.
What the fuck…
The crowd stood to its feet and clapped for the first time all night, but I remained seated, completely taken aback by what the fuck I just saw.
“Maybe I won’t have to cancel my season tickets after all, eh?” The man next to me winked. “Bravissimo!”
I narrowed my eyes at Aubrey and her partner, seething as he wrapped an arm around her waist and strummed his fingers against her skin. He whispered into her ear and she blushed, making my blood pressure soar to an all-time high.
“Well, what a response!” The director took the floor. “Thank you, Miss Everhart and Mr. Williams. I want you all to know that those two will be headlining next month’s Silver Moon Gala as well…” She continued talking, saying more about the program, but her words were soundless to me.
I was confused by what I just saw—not sure if Aubrey’s mouth had actually been on someone else.
More dancers took the floor, more applause, more speeches, and my thoughts remained the same. It wasn’t until the patrons took the floor, that I realized that the showcase part of this evening was over.
“Are you interested in donating to the NYCB?” A ballerina, still dressed in her white performance outfit, stepped in front of me. “Would you like to make a contribution?”
“My contribution was the ticket I bought for tonight.” I stood up, leaving the flower bouquet behind, and walked off in search of Aubrey.
It didn’t take long to find her.
Dressed in a rather revealing silver dress, she was in a corner laughing with her male dancer friend, batting her eyes as he handed her a drink.
“Excuse me, sir?” Someone tapped me on the shoulder.
“Yes?” I kept my eyes on Aubrey.
“Um, if you stay for the after-portion of the event, you have to donate…It’s part of the rules. It was written in bold so—”
“Here.” I handed her whatever bills were left in my wallet.
She disappeared.
Aubrey’s friend kissed her forehead and stepped away, giving me the perfect opportunity to approach, but she was swarmed by a group of other ballerinas.
Friends, it seemed.
I waited for their conversation to end, until she told them she’d join them later, and then I made my move.
As she turned around, I placed my hand on her shoulder--feeling a jolt shoot through my veins. “Good evening, Aubrey…”
She dropped her glass to the floor and slowly turned around.
“Andrew?” She stepped back. “What are you doing here?”
“Does it matter?”
She didn’t answer.
Neither of us said anything further, and that familiar tension that had always existed between us began to thicken with every second that passed.