Chapter Two

Aria Flynn was no stranger to butterflies careening in her stomach. She’d danced before an audience since age three, and no matter how many times she’d been onstage, she still had pre-performance jitters. Once she walked onto the stage, she would go into the zone and stay there until the final note faded away. Dance was rooted deep inside her, somewhere she could go to tune out the rest of the world.

After putting her tamed, red hair up into a tight bun and applying thick stage makeup, she hit the road, heading to the local park for the performing arts festival.

The dressing room was empty! Heart racing and mouth dry, she quickly donned her basic dance apparel—peach-colored tights, matching leotard, and pointe toe shoes before exiting the room.

Crossing the hall, she joined the cluster of women from her ballet troupe. “Am I late?” She frowned and nudged Marcy, her long-time friend.

“What?” Marcy never even turned to look at Aria.

Her friend was only half-listening so Aria nudged her again, this time harder, to get her full attention.

Marcy eyes widened. “Oh, hey girl!” They embraced and rocked back and forth while hugging. Pulling away from Aria, she beamed. “It feels like forever since I've seen you, Aria. I'm so happy you're feeling better from that nasty stomach bug.”

Marcy had been off for a couple of weeks, taking final exams at the local community college making her scarce.

Aria craned her neck to view the performers ahead of them. “Did the time move up?”

Marcy's eyes widened. “What? No, I don't think so, no one said anything to me, and I didn't get a message. Why?”

“I got here early, but the dressing room is empty, and everyone's out here.” Aria nodded toward the other women nearby.

Marcy laughed. “No, you're early, but so is everyone else. Did you check out the lineup for today?”

“No, why? Who's here?”

“Girl, who isn't?” Marcy blurted out. “There are quite a few singers, bands, and dancers. This is a pretty large event. I'm surprised you don't know.”

“I've been super busy at the studio, and before I got sick I never thought to consider who would be here. We perform here all the time.” She shrugged.

“When we finish, we're so going to walk around. No ducking out on me today.” Her friend shook a finger at Aria playfully.

“As long as I'm not out too long. I need time to hit the store before I head home. I need toilet paper.”

The dancers watched from the side until it was their turn. From her vantage point Aria could tell there were a lot of people, but she didn't realize how many until they walked out. The park was full—there were more people than she'd ever seen before—and she’d lived in the area her whole life.

Shaking her head and sucking air into her lungs, she closed her eyes and let the breath out slowly. “I'm ready, I can do this,” she whispered. She moved her feet into open fourth position, her arms followed suit, and when the melody began she opened her eyes.

As usual, the melody displaced her thoughts while her rhythmic bodily movements flowed with the music. The first dance ended and they went right into the next one. After a few more routines, their flawless performance ended, and they exited stage left.

The troupe was hardly off the deck when a crew of men began bringing equipment up.

One of the men ran smack into Marcy, and she reared back. Due to his height, she had to raise her gaze to meet his eyes. “Do you mind?”

The guy stood strong and grinned down at her. “Nope, not at all.”

Marcy sucked her teeth, held her chin up high, and walked away gracefully. The man checked out her friend's ass until she was out of sight.

Aria caught up to Marcy and let out a disgusted grunt. “Men are such pigs.”

“Oh, Aria, not all of them are. There are good ones out there, you just have to find them.” She gently touched Aria's forearm.

“Good luck finding one for me.” Her words were a bit harsh and sarcastic, but she was so sick of her friend’s meddling.

“Aria...” Marcy's eyes narrowed, and her brows pulled down in concentration.

“Marcy, no.”

“I want you to be happy, and I think you should try to move on.”

“I have, Marcy. I've moved on.”

“No, you haven't. One-night stands don't count.”

A few of the women heading out of the dressing room brushed past with their heads down. They were a tight-knit group, and although not everyone hung out together, they had each other's back. They also knew more about one another than necessary, which is why everyone steered clear when Marcy started in on Aria about her love life.

“Stop, not here.” Aria seethed.

Marcy threw her arms up in the air. “Then where, and when?”

“Never!” Aria ran into the room, grabbed her duffel bag, and stormed out without changing into her street clothes. Stopping in the walkway, she clumsily took off her ballet slippers, and walked the rest of the way to her car in stocking covered feet.

Marcy didn't chase after her.