“You’re a coward.” Nikolai’s hollow voice nearly silences the muttering crowds. He’s by my side, and then he protectively passes me, brushing my hand like saying I’m here for you before he takes a few steps ahead and faces Shay. “If you’re going to slander me, speak directly to me, not to her.”
Shay’s doubt leeches my brain. His belief isn’t true. It’s not true. Nikolai’s intentions are as pure as mine. I know they are, in my heart. I know it.
“Yeah, I have something to say to you,” Shay grits.
“Ooooh,” people in the pool echo, hands cupped over their mouths to create the noise. I realize I’ve shuffled to the side, in order to see both Shay and Nikolai from a spectator position, but I’m still closer to them than anyone else at the pool party.
“Leave Thora alone,” Shay sneers. “If you like her at all, you’ll stop feeding her bullshit—”
“It’s not bullshit.” Nikolai glares. “She has the ability to be better.”
“With your help, right?” Shay nods like he sees right through him. My stomach clenches. It’s not true.
“Yes,” Nikolai says lowly. “With my help. I’ve spent twenty years training on the apparatus she loves. I’ve spent my entire life in the circus. I have knowledge and experience that she needs. There is nothing for her in Ohio.” Anger protrudes the veins in his arms and neck, his muscles flexing.
My throat swells. Behind Nikolai, I now notice all who gathers. Not just Timo. There’s Luka. And Dimitri—there are dozens…no, several dozen athletes, all broad-shouldered, strong and hard-jawed. Gray eyes.
Most of them have those gray eyes. Kotovas. Cousins. Brothers. His family.
They stand as though they’re ready to back him. For anything. For everything.
“Her whole life is in Ohio,” Shay retorts. “She doesn’t belong here.”
Shay is my family. He is the one familiarity I have.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” people begin to chant, not only in the pool but around us.
I shake my head. No. No one is fighting.
The Kotovas start speaking in Russian, shouting over each other and the hostile encouragements. Nikolai rotates a fraction and yells a few foreign words back to them.
I meet Shay’s concerned gaze that fixes on me. His eyes soften so much. You know him. For years. You know him. His voice is drowned by the crowd, but I read his lips: Come home. He’s telling me to come home. With him.
My eyes burn, restraining combative emotions.
“Thora,” I hear Nikolai’s loud voice in the mass.
I turn my head.
His sincerity, his intensity, it rips right through me. “Don’t leave. Please.”
I inhale a pained breath. I’m warring with my dreams and with reality. Is it courageous to stay here or is it just a fool’s chase? I’m not sure…
“Thora,” Nikolai forces, my attention his once more, “you can succeed.”
Shay’s hands ball into fists. “Says the guy who’s been sleeping with her.”
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
My stomach knots and unknots at Shay’s disillusion and the real fact. I haven’t slept with Nikolai. That’s not what this is about. In the pit of my ear, I hear his words spoken from months ago.
It’s wasted courage. And wasted love. You shouldn’t have to waste those things.
I can do this.
You can do this, Thora. It’s not over. It doesn’t have to be.
Not yet.
Nikolai takes a few commanding strides towards Shay, who stands his ground. My heart thrashes. They won’t fight. “What does it matter to you if I have?” He’s subtly implying: do you have feelings for her?
No. Not like that.
“She’s my best friend. If I see a guy using her, I’m going to step in the fucking way.”
“FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!”
I keep shaking my head.
“This is the life she wants. Let her live it.”
Shay lets out an aggravated laugh and shouts over the chanting, “You think she wants to live this life?! The minute she doesn’t land a contract, she’s going to be back in Ohio. And you’re going to lose your fuck buddy—”
Nik decks him, his knuckles slamming into Shay’s jaw. My hands fly to my mouth. Shay rights himself quickly and throws his fist into Nikolai’s ribs.
In my peripheral, I see movement from the Kotova men, and I sprint so fast, imagining the fight turning into a brawl all against Shay. I extend my arms and all of them rock back at my appearance. “Stop.”
I can’t step between the flying fists behind me, but I can thwart a bigger fight. Out of everyone, Dimitri tries to challenge me, nearing my small frame.
I point a warning finger at him. “No.”
Dimitri seizes my wrist, tugging me to him. His glower says more than enough but he speaks, “I’m not letting Nikolai be punched by your friend.” What did Nikolai say about him: I’ve known Dimitri since I was a little kid.
I think I’ve underestimated the strength and loyalty beneath a childhood friendship.
I’m just trying to protect Shay. “I won’t let you gang up on him,” I force. Nikolai has dozens of people to back him. Shay only has me.
His fingers dig hard into my skin, my bones screaming.
Timo yells in Russian at Dimitri, his face reddening as he tries to get his point across. I see Nikolai land a right hook at the same time that Shay knees Nik in the ribs. Both blows pack a powerful punch, so much that they stagger back for a second.
“Stop!” I yell at them. My voice reaches their ears, their heads whipping to me in unison. They zero in on Dimitri’s clutch, and it diffuses their fight, redirecting their rage.
He releases his hold on me, and I walk quickly to the two guys as hotel management approaches in black suits, physically standing between them.
“Booo!” the crowd roars.
The DJ speaks into the mic, “She must have some pretty titties.” Ew. I cringe. They were not fighting over me like that. And even if they were, that’s—no. I cringe more.
I pass Nikolai, who speaks to one of the black-suits. And I make sure to brush his hand a little, just to show that I’m not choosing reality.
Not today.
I still want to dream. But my reality is also precious to me.
So I walk right up to Shay, my heart flip-flopping at his face, much more beaten than Nik’s. I’m not surprised. Even though he’s incredibly fit from gymnastics, he’s not even close to Nik’s size. I touch Shay’s cheek, the skin split open from a punch.
He winces and clasps my hand. “It’s fine…” He spits a wad of blood on the cement.
“I’ll help you clean up in the bathroom.”
He nods, accepting my offer. And I lead him out of the pool area, a series of boos following us all the way inside.
Act Twenty-Seven
Shay is leaving in ten minutes. After washing his face, we sit on the edge of the Dionysus fountain, staring at the revolving doors that lead out of The Masquerade.
Our friendship has never been this strained. Miles and miles apart and my aspirations have begun to destroy it. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Thora…” He looks to me, his eyes reddened. “I don’t want you to make this mistake.”
“I know.” I know. My chin almost trembles, and I bite down. “But you have to let me make it.” I really, really hope it’s not one.