Heartbreaker: A Second Chance Rockstar Romance Page 26

  There was something off in the studio though. Lucas was there—and he stood around off in the distance where he knew I would see him. He started flirting with one of the younger dressers, who was currently without a task to occupy her, or maybe just too occupied with the handsome dancer to find such a task.

  “How have I never seen you before?” he quipped, a teasing lilt to his honeyed voice, stepping closer to the younger girl.

  I had no idea how to categorize these feelings in my chest. Worry? Concern? Jealousy? Everything above? Everything surrounding Lucas had been muddied for such a long time; all that I knew clearly now was that I did not want him in this room flirting with that girl (or any girl for that matter). As for the reasoning…that was difficult to pinpoint.

  “Do you think I could get some personal help with my costume?” Lucas was ogling now, but my attention elsewhere.

  At that moment, there was a woman who entered the room, someone I had never seen before. She was beautiful, a medium-toned woman with dark hair and captivating eyes, dressed in light colors. She carried herself with a grace that I often saw among the orchestra. It was a very particular type of gait and composure, but this woman wasn’t holding an instrument or sheet music or anything of the sort. Instead, she had a camera in her hands, and she was already taking discreet pictures of the workroom.

  I wasn’t informed about there being a photographer here tonight, but I expected that I might’ve been below that type of notice. Besides, it wasn’t expected that anyone would want photographs of the costume workroom, but here she was, snapping away. With a degree of concern, I noticed that the woman was taking pictures of Lucas and the dressing girl as well, seeming as if she wanted to capture every intimate detail—like some sort of secret.

  If I weren’t already been on high alert due to Lucas being in the room, I wondered if I would’ve caught the woman entering the room at all. She was moving silently, seeming to blend in, and I made the connection that this would be a great opportunity to take very intimate portraits, capturing the rawest moments of life.

  The woman looked up at me then, making eye contact as she took a few pictures. I held her gaze for a bit, feeling defiance in my posture. My hand was poised with a needle and thread above the lilac fairy costume while I tacked on a gem that had become loose earlier that day.

  The photographer was about to turn and leave. But Lucas noticed this and stopped her, most likely because of the woman’s beauty.

  “Oh, what do we have here?” he asked, advancing on her. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

  “I’m a photographer from Illusions,” she replied, brisk, turning to exit, apparently sensing his intent, but Lucas caught her by the arm gently as to stop her from leaving.

  “So, we have a photographer for this show? That’s exciting!” He flashed that winning smile of his, but the woman wasn’t fazed or even remotely charmed.

  “Yes.”

  “I do have to say, though, you seem more worthy of being the subject of a photograph yourself.” He winked, and the girl he was flirting with earlier stared from across the room, green-eyed.

  The woman pulled away from him with an unamused smile. “Apologies, sir, but I cannot stay in one place too long. I will capture your image later.”

  I watched in awe as she took her leave, Lucas looking positively livid, though calming his face within a few seconds. He turned back to the dressing girl, but she already found some small task to busy herself with, and Lucas was forced to leave the workshop, having no one else to bother.

  I was hoping that he wouldn’t trouble that photographer anymore, though there was no doubt she’d be able to handle it. She was so beautiful, so powerful, and so strong in her quiet way. I found myself thinking of the young photographer as I continued with my work. It wasn’t a thought sickened with envy; it was something more of awe, and maybe…something else.

  10. (Lillian)

  The theater, the dancers, and the costume workshop were all incredible. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was all so overwhelming that I felt as if I could burst in excitement. It was all I could do to keep a straight face and a serious tone of voice. But below the surface, I was exhilarated.

  Everything was radiating excitement and manic energy, somehow emulating grace at the same time. There was a discipline to it all—a method—but there was also a flow that was free and uninhibited. It gave me the same feeling that I had when I was a child and would go to any kind of dance show—why didn’t I decide to learn piano and not dance?

  Except for now, it was more of a why had I decided to become a photographer instead of a ballerina—as if that was something one decided and then destiny provided for. I was in one of the rooms where the dancers were warming up now, taking discreet photos as they ran through stretches, jittery energy in the room as they talked amongst themselves excitedly. I stayed as they did some quick exercises to ensure that they wouldn’t harm any muscles while they performed, and then I followed them into the dressing rooms where they were preparing themselves for the performance.

  This had more disorganization to it. It felt like everything was all over the place, though I knew there must be some sense of control. After all, this was New York’s premier ballet company. I stayed until it was almost time for the show to start before excusing myself to go take up my place in the back of the theater where I would photograph the whole performance.

  That part didn’t interest me personally, though. To me, the real beauty lay in what happened behind the curtain before the first instrument played and after the last of the applause. The excitement. The secret passionate moments. The glance of friendship. The stretch of a body creating curves. No distractions with glittering jewels and bright fabrics and the smiles of performance: just genuine moments of excitement before a show that meant almost everything to these people.

  Despite my preferences, there was no denying that the ballet was absolutely gorgeous. There was something about the marriage of the music, the costumes, and the dance that was unlike anything I ever experienced before. I didn’t think that it would be the same to watch it on video or see it in a photograph, though. No matter how talented anyone was, this type of moment was meant to be experienced live.

  I made my way backstage to capture the final moments of the evening; capturing the exhaustion after the fact, the adrenaline that still ran through everyone—then, out of the corner of the room, I made eye contact with Sebastian. He pointed to his watch with a smile, then down, signaling that he and Rebecca would wait for me to be done.

  I was grateful for this, being exhausted from the day, and having friends to look forward to was the icing on the cake. I wondered if Sebastian would stay with us for a bit, to hang out. So that we might discuss the ballet over some tea and light snacks, or maybe even a board game, late though it may be.

  It was just as expected after the show: the dancers were tired—everyone was. But that glow. They were all glowing with adrenaline. They were all glowing with joy. They were glowing with pride. The liveliness of the atmosphere was made obvious, filled with laughter and constant chatter from all of the cast members. They talked as they got ready to head home, making jokes at each other and smiling all the while.

  I couldn’t see the traces of exhaustion as strongly as I thought would be seen, and this, I knew, would only make for a stronger story. There was something so fascinating, after all, about the perseverance of the human spirit, the human body. People constantly defying all expectations of their limits, keeping going when it should be impossible to do so.

  Breathing when their lungs should be collapsing; speaking when their voice should be hoarse; singing when they should be too tired to do so. I realized to myself that it was these types of stories I wanted to tell: those of the amazing spirit of the human race. I wanted to communicate how truly wonderful each individual was—how small battles were being fought every day by so many people, in ways that might not be imagined.

  A ballet. A teacher overseeing a st
udy hall. A wildlife conservationist. A librarian seeking to create interest. There were battles I wanted to capture that integrated the mind, body, and spirit. This was definitely one of those times.

  My hands moved on their own accord as I skimmed through backstage, capturing photos that were too powerful to describe in words. It didn’t take me long though; the moment was too precious to be overworked, over-captured, and I wanted to let it keep its raw energy. So, I left, heading back towards the entrance of the theater where I knew Sebastian would be. Rebecca would be there waiting for me too.

  And there they were, welcoming me with their warmth.

  Sebastian asked about the backstage experience and Rebecca gushed over the intricacy of the costumes.

  At this moment, I felt whole. Today was a good day.

  11. (Bella)

  My supervisor excused me from work early that day from the look of evident exhaustion on my face. There wouldn’t be too much work left to finish on the costuming end that night anyway. I was tired, and my eyelids were feeling outrageously heavy. I wondered why Sebastian hadn’t reached out to me in a while, but I also figured that it might be better that way. At least now I could get the rest I so desperately needed.

  I decided to make my way to the exit of the building. As I descended the last flight of stairs, I was suddenly stopped by the sight of two familiar people—one more than the other.

  There he was—Sebastian—conversing with the photographer that had entered my life earlier that evening, and with another woman I didn’t recognize at all. I felt my heart being hit with a pang, and then the feeling of a heavy weight. I could tell from the way that Sebastian was looking at that photographer, from the way he laughed and the smiles he was flashing, that she was the one he’d been pining after.

  She was the one he’d been thinking of when the two of us were having sex.

  She was the one preventing him from wanting anything deeper with me.

  She was the one who was making him keep an emotional distance.

  It was irrational, but my heart sank deep in my chest. There was an unexplained pain radiating from my insides. A hint of aberrant jealousy. I knew that I shouldn’t be having these types of emotions. I knew I didn’t love Sebastian, and I knew I never would—or would never intend to. I didn’t have time for him outside of a sexual partner anyways, and it was better that we remained emotionally detached.

  At least, this was what I continued to tell myself. It didn’t stop the awful feeling that was welling up inside me now. The way Sebastian looked at that girl, doe-eyed, sprinkling ga-ga, made me feel like I wanted anyone to look at me like that.

  And then Sebastian looked up, almost as if he felt the stares of a distant on-looker, meeting me dead in the eyes, and I knew, at that moment, that he saw everything within me. He must’ve seen how tired I was. He must’ve seen how my feelings turned in a way I never wanted them to.

  I wondered if he even cared.

  And then he looked away.

  I watched the three strangers as they continued talking amongst each other. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to tear my gaze away from them. It was so memorizing just watching them. I almost thought myself creepy. There must’ve been a tired look of heartbreak written across my face.

  I began to daydream about Sebastian’s undying love for me, how maybe he would long for something more than just intimate things. But as I continued starring at him and that girl, I couldn’t help but notice the confidence in her stance, her incredible beauty, how she had everything I wanted—including that look that Sebastian was giving her. He cared about her on a much deeper level. It was written in his body language.

  I wasn’t sure if that photographer cared about him though; her actions were much more covert. All of this was contained within the silent looks they gave each other. I thought that the human race was amazing, and also, that they were all fools.

  People gave away too much through just their eyes, and even more through their faces. Without even saying a single word, they could give all the evidence needed to pronounce themselves guilty. And even as I stared at them thinking their expressions were giving too much away, I wondered what mine might be saying about me.

  12. (Lillian)

  The story was a major success. The positive feedback was almost immediate, and sales rocketed. To my surprise, it had done better than my previous stories with Ash, and Meghan immediately asked if I would be willing to photograph another performance—maybe this time of a different group.

  There was an exceptionally positive response to the photos I had taken in the costume workshop. I suspected it was because of the undertones of lust and forbidden love stories that they held, but Meghan nevertheless wanted to see if I could do a special just on the workshop, especially as the performers all got ready for the next show of the season.

  That would take a bit more time to set up, though, so in the meantime, I would prepare myself to head to another performance—maybe of a more amateur ballet company this time. Excited about all the success, I texted Sebastian as soon as I got back to my desk.

  Hey! The story did super well.

  I heard, came his reply, almost instantly. I was lucky to even get a copy. Thankfully, I know to subscribe by now.

  Do you even read the magazine?

  No, I just look at the pictures. Yours specifically, of course.

  Should have known; famous lawyers don’t have time to read anything but case reports.

  Awwwww, don’t say that. I’m reading your texts, aren’t I?

  I smiled and shook my head as I turned back to work. I glanced over my agenda for the day. Whenever we talked like this, it felt like we were kids again: fifteen, best friends, just the two of us against the world.

  I sometimes wondered what might have happened if we had just stayed in touch, if we would have become anything more than a confession of feelings beyond friendship when the sun was hot, and the time seemed endless. Our bodies were changing then, and so were our minds, and I often attributed this as the reason why it all even happened in the first place. I pushed the thought away. We already tried it all once before—and that didn’t work out. Our friendship was too good to be put in danger now, especially when I finally had him back in my life, and things were beginning to finally feel right again.

  I became distracted in my work when another text came in.

  Want to go to dinner to celebrate?

  Is Rebecca coming?

  She says she’s too busy, so it would just be the two of us.

  There was a hesitation in me to say yes. I couldn’t help but think of the last time we went to dinner, just the two of us. Things were different then. I knew that logically, there were no romantic implications, and I was probably overthinking―but I couldn’t help but let my mind wander…and just because I was worried about it being romantic didn’t mean that I had feelings for him—right?

  After careful contemplation, I figured there wouldn’t be any harm if we were to have a little dinner together. So I texted him back.

  Sure, that sounds great.

  We met up at the place we both agreed on—a smaller Italian restaurant that fit in my budget so that I could pay for my meal. I had insisted on this before Sebastian and I picked a place. Having Sebastian pay for me, however much he may have insisted, even just to congratulate me on the success…it felt too close to a date again.

  And I was not ready to go anywhere near that territory. The waiter—a thinner man with dark skin and immaculately-cared for facial hair—sat us at one of the smaller tables in the back, disappearing to bring out an extra menu and a basket of bread. I ignored the slight stickiness of the chair—it was just a byproduct of the shiny coating that encased the wooden furniture—as I sat down across from Sebastian and smiled.

  “Have you had anything from here before?” I asked as he flipped through the singular menu, eyes skimming quickly over the items.

  “No, I can’t say I have. The reviews were good, though.”

  “
Maybe we should play it safer then,” I said with a little laugh as Sebastian handed me the menu.

  There were quite a few items on the menu I didn’t recognize, not helped by the fact that the dish titles were all in Italian. But there were quite a few pastas, and I felt relatively confident with them. The waiter returned, carrying another menu and a basket full of freshly baked bread rolls. I could smell them from where I was sitting—that unmistakable, mouth-watering scent. They were warm, and I reached out to take one, the butter that I liberally applied melting almost instantly. Sebastian looked at my buttery concoction, intrigued as he instead decided to dip his in a more traditional mixture of olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

  “Americans,” he muttered, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, much to my amusement.

  “Hey, you’re as American as I am,” I said with a laugh.

  “To which, I must admit, I am ashamed.”

  I rolled her eyes.

  “Sure you are. You should be grateful to come from the same country as me, a soon-to-be-famous photographer.”

  “Bravo, bravo.” He mimed clapping his hands, then turned his attention back to the menu. “Now, what shall we order?”

  13. (Sebastian)

  When I got back home to my dark and empty apartment, I didn’t even bother flipping on a light switch before sending a text to Bella. I needed relief, and I needed it now. I couldn’t bear to spend another second thinking about Lillian, about her smile, about her laugh.

  I knew that it shouldn’t affect me like this anymore, but I was worried that she would see going to dinner just the two of us as verging too close to a romantic context. Of course, that didn’t stop a part of me from wanting her to see it that way. If only to get some closure on these feelings of mine.