“We’re roommates, Bette,” she says, in a voice I’ve never heard come out of her before. “I’m not your little slave. And hi, Alec. Congratulations on your role.”
“I let you be my roommate,” I say. I don’t even have to lie. Eleanor couldn’t afford this room—Adele’s old room—the only one on the hall with a private bath. “Don’t make me remind you, okay? That’s embarrassing.”
“Bette,” Alec says. He never used to scold me like that. He liked that I said what was on my mind. Plus, Will used to be my snarky sidekick, and the two of us would make Alec laugh with our snide little comments.
Eleanor’s face falls. I guess it was my intention, but I’m not some robot, and she’s supposed to be my best friend. I take a deep breath. We’ve been getting into fights like this a lot lately, and I promised myself I would try harder to get back to the way we used to be. But some days I can’t even remember how it used to be, who I was, who she was, and what made us friends. Since I didn’t get the Sugar Plum Fairy role, nothing feels right. And she’s been watching these videos and disappearing for blocks of time and not telling me where she’s going. She’s keeping secrets from me. She’s making things weird lately.
“Alec’s just gonna hang out for, like, an hour. Could you work in the lounge maybe? You’re looking hot lately. We all know you’ll be bringing a guy over sometime soon, right?”
I even wink. And pout.
Her cell phone rings. She jumps to silence it, then caves. “Holding you to that,” she says on her way out the door.
“Cross my heart, hope to die,” I say and grin. It does feel good, remembering that we actually kind of love each other. I miss her a little, the second she’s out the door.
“Just an hour?” Alec says into my neck.
“We can make it a good hour,” I say.
And we do. But the whole time feels like another big audition, and this time the challenge is to be the sexiest, the most desirable, the wildest. I wrap my legs around him so tight I’m surprised he can still breathe. I can be the girl he fell in love with years ago. The girl he still loves now. The only girl he wants to partner with.
We don’t have sex, though. Alec says he’s tired and needs to conserve his energy for tomorrow’s rehearsal. I’m naked by the time he throws that one out, and I can feel my face shift from sexy to pissed.
“We always have rehearsal—” I say.
“I have a huge role. And a pas to practice.”
“With Gigi,” I grumble, then explode. “You shouldn’t have come up here then. Where the hell is my shirt?” I scramble out of bed to find something, anything, to cover up what he’s rejected.
“I thought we still had fun,” Alec purrs in my ear. He kisses the lobe, and then down my neck.
“Just seems weird that you don’t want—”
“I want you. I always want you. Just freaked out about impressing Mr. K tomorrow. I swear. This weekend I’ll be back to my normal self, okay?” He’s blushing, like we’ve both failed at our sexy, romantic relationship tonight.
When he leaves, he kisses me on the head and for just that one moment when his lips hit the space where my hair meets my forehead, I’ve won. It isn’t about Gigi.
“Tell Eleanor to come back in, okay?” I can still make him do things for me. He nods.
“Can’t wait to tell her all about me?” He likes to tease me, and even reaches down to tickle me. I squirm and hold back laughs. I could do this forever with him.
“Eleanor and I don’t sit around talking about our boyfriends all night,” I tease back. “Don’t get the wrong idea.” I let out a flirtatious laugh and touch his shoulder. He’s surprisingly tense. He even blushes a little. “Even if I love you,” I tack on, like maybe that’s what’s bothering him.
He doesn’t say it back, just kisses my forehead again. I almost repeat I love you, like maybe he just didn’t hear, but I can’t take the risk.
It’s a long, lonely five minutes before Eleanor reappears. I don’t want us to have another awkward spat right now. I just want my old friend back.
Eleanor throws the door open. “Done?” Her face is still rosy, like the first day I ever met her. Six-year-old would-be ballerinas auditioning for the conservatory, standing in tiny leotards, hands and feet ready to be examined.
“Can we watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” I say. My voice is quiet and I just want her next to me, sharing a blanket, watching the TV like it’s a portal to a world outside this stupid dorm. Eleanor sighs. I’m sure she thinks she’s supposed to stay mad, but I know she just can’t do it. Not strong enough.
We lie on the futon-couch thing we have set up and get to the part when Audrey tears up her apartment in grief. Eleanor’s breathing has slowed. She always falls asleep first. Her head flops on my shoulder. I wish I could sleep as soundly as she does. But I know I won’t be able to for a long time, until the spring ballet and my second chance to snag the lead.
“What do you think of Gigi?” I whisper into the dark, knowing she won’t hear, except in her dreams.
“Mmmm,” she says, which I decide means Gigi’s no big deal. Nothing special.
“She can’t take everything from me, right?” I say, and listen again for Eleanor’s nondescript sigh. It comes, and I try to let it comfort me as much as it would if we could actually talk about this.
A few tears come before I finally fall asleep. Quiet ones. Just between me and the dark.
9
June
I WALK TO MORNING BALLET class alone, super early, so I can have studio C all to myself and get my head together before it starts. I’ve piled on the layers—it’s late October and the chill has already started seeping into every pore. Plus, layers give me just enough invisible padding. I blend right in with the rest of them. But I know, really, that I need to make Morkie see me. That’s how you become a star. Catch your teacher’s eye.
Right outside the studio, I almost drop my thermos. Sei-Jin’s boyfriend, Jayhe, sits on a booth seat in front of the glass, where everyone gawks in at us. He’s slouched, in unlaced Converses and slim black pants. His red hoodie is up and he’s looking at his phone.
I haven’t seen him since Sei-Jin and I stopped being roommates and friends. Almost two years ago. When did he start wanting to watch her dance? He looks sort of the same. But cuter. Less awkward. I’ve known him longer than Sei-Jin. We went to the same Sunday school as kids, he lived three blocks from me, and before I moved to the conservatory his halmeoni used to watch us both after school. She’d call me her little granddaughter, and I would swim in his blow-up pool. I even know he has a blue-bottom birthmark on his butt. But now, Sei-Jin and Jayhe are like a version of Bette and Alec: made for each other, perfect, royalty in our Korean community.