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I missed the first few steps of the dance number because of it, and quickly had to catch up.
Rehearsal was good, for once. Tatiana didn’t complain as we went through the two numbers we were practicing tonight, and her footwork was better than usual—although still sloppy for a lead. Dorian grinned at me as we went through the steps we had practiced before rehearsal, and he even gave me a muttered, “Nice!” as he brushed past me. The stutter-step was starting to feel natural, and I could tell it was a more crisp movement for the song.
That was the kind of thing a normal choreographer would help a dancer with during talkbacks—the feedback given after rehearsals. But we didn’t have a choreographer, or any other specialist to help with the singing, dancing, and stage directions. It was just Director Atkins and his two assistants. Having Dorian giving me pointers actually helped me improve. It made the rehearsal feel like it was worth our time and effort, rather than just stumbling through the motions of a show destined to tank.
The only exception of the great rehearsal was Braden himself. He stumbled through his track during the dance numbers, and he forgot his lines twice. A couple of times he shook his head awkwardly and muttered something under his breath, like he was trying to give himself a pep talk.
“Get your shit together,” Atkins told him after the third or fourth miscue. “It’s like your focus is elsewhere.”
“Yeah, no, I’m just having a bad night,” Braden said. “Let’s keep going.”
With my footwork to focus on, along with mouthing all of Tatiana’s lines during the songs where she had vocal parts, the rest of rehearsal flew by. Everyone was sweaty and spent by the time Atkins called an end to the night, and when he said, “Good work everyone,” it was clear he actually meant it.
I glanced at my cell phone. Tonight was one of the few nights where I didn’t have a bar shift, but after losing my job this morning I could use the extra cash. And I wasn’t thrilled about going home to my cramped, dirty apartment.
I started texting Robbie to ask if he needed another hand tonight, but I stopped halfway when I realized Braden was standing right behind me.
“Hi,” I said, caught off guard.
He rubbed the back of his neck, a motion which flexed the muscles in his arm. “Hey, Nadia. Got a second?”
“Sure.”
He took a deep breath. There was something close to shame in his beautiful eyes. It made me want to reach out and hug him. I made myself hold back.
“I wanted to apologize for last night,” he said.
Apologize? For what—giving me the strongest orgasm I’ve had in months?
“Oh?” I said, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing.
“It was really stupid,” he began.
I shook my head. “No! Not stupid at all.”
He continued on over my protest. “It was a stupid suggestion. Four of us and one of you, all in some weird pseudo-relationship…”
Oh. He’s not talking about the sex in the subway room.
“I can see why you rejected it outright,” Braden went on. “It was insulting. I don’t blame you for laughing in our faces, and honestly? We deserved it. Especially after leading you on with the Tinder profile. So let’s just forget—”
“I’ll do it!” I blurted out.
Braden opened his mouth, then closed it again so quickly his teeth clicked. He seemed shocked. Behind him, Ryan paused his work with the lighting cables and stared over at us.
“You what?” Braden asked when he found his voice.
“I’m willing to give it a try,” I clarified. “Being your fake girlfriend, and maybe the other stuff. How about a trial run? Just to see if it’s a good fit for all of us?”
I cringed at the phrase a good fit and the double entendre it implied. Braden didn’t seem to notice. Behind him, Ryan went back to coiling the lighting cables without a word. His expression didn’t give anything away.
“Sure,” Braden said. “A trial run.”
“Okay then,” I agreed.
As we stared at each other, I couldn’t help wondering what I was getting myself into.
12
