"Dare."
My heart, for all that's going on, pounds steadily.
The second-story foredeck wears mahogany wood and silver railings that reflect orange light. It's half the size of the deck upstairs, but its decor makes for an intimate, coquettish setting.
Couches the color of vanilla icecream arch around the circular space, adorned with plush, warm-hued pillows. Between them wait steely fire heaters shaped like the Freedom Tower, rivulets of flame shooting up from their bases and into a chilly night. Golden fairy lights sway above us, captured inside of bulbs and strung across the yacht's edges. At the foredeck's end wait two doors that open to a lavish bar, alight with all colors of alcohol.
Still in the sphere of Manhattan and its subject boroughs, far-off lights glimmer in a panoramic view. Otherwise, The Calore lies in the darkest parts of New York Harbor. The boat sways with the fairy lights, bobbing in the midst of a quiet, cool, and dark evening.
Half of the dancers lounge around on the couches, content to wear their sweatshirts and observe chaos unfold from afar. They hold glasses of wine, champagne, and whatever sorts of mixers the bartenders stir up inside, high off the dancing and the night itself. A few have even brought up blankets, but nobody's asleep. Not as they're witnessing Evangeline mutilate a high school game into a revenge plot.
The crown jewel of the foredeck currently boils me alive in more ways than one. In the center of the couches waits a jacuzzi hot tub big enough for twenty. It's as though the water is an arena and the couches are for the spectators. Incandescent lights embedded into the mahogany arch around the water, but half are covered by discarded sweatpants and sweatshirts.
Steam rolls off of the water in billows. Jetstreams pulse at my back and calves, and the heat and pressure feel amazing against a body sore from ballet. Wearing a scoop bikini top and a bottom the same color as the red wine that floats about the foredeck, I force myself to be comfortable in my swimsuit. I haven't needed one in a long time.
One of the Academy guys grins at Ptolemus. "In that case, I dare you to have another glass of wine."
Ptolemus returns the smile. "I have no problem with that. Hit me up." He still wears his shoulder patch, the gauze pad taped over his wound a few inches above the water. After last Saturday, he probably needs the extra glass.
Alcohol's flowing freely tonight, just as it did at the gala. It makes me nervous. Maven himself has a glass of red wine in hand, and he takes slow, deliberate sips of it.
Evangeline, on the other side of the hot tub, rolls her eyes at her brother. She wants no part in this light-hearted Truth or Dare. But the night, between the late hour and the wine, is quickly unraveling in her favor.
I hardly had a choice when Evangeline, commandeering the entire Academy's evening agenda, invited me and Maven into the hot tub to play her ruse of Truth or Dare. I frowned at her as I stripped off my sweats and pulled my hair into a knock, but I threw my clothes onto the floor nonetheless.
It's just a poorly-disguised attempt to put me in my place. I'm just wondering how far Evangeline will take it before daring me to jump off the yacht and never come back up.
An intoxicating danger lurks in the air. The whirlpool is filled with bare skin, laughter, and wine. The Academy guys' shoulders and muscled biceps stick out of the bubbling water, and every one of the girls—myself included—wears a bathing suit that Ruth Barrow would not approve of.
Evangeline's, in particular, with its cut black triangles and golden chains for straps.
After everything that's happened in the last week, most are just here to enjoy the hot tub and the emptiness of the harbor. With Manhattan at our backs, it feels safe out here.
In one way, at least.
The hot tub has been cleanly cut in half, though both sides are bloodthirsty. On my side, I'm surrounded by the Corps girls that I've played Monopoly with. Iris sits with her arms crossed at my left. Farther down the arch, Maven slouches into the jetstreams, resting his head on the lip of the tub. Some of the more reasonable Academy guys sit alongside him, though if one is in this hot tub at all, they're looking for trouble. Across the way, Evangeline, Elane, and Ptolemus sit in a row, and some of the other girls that Evangeline has in her claws have chosen seats nearby.
I'm lucky for the rule that one of the guys came up with, stating that nobody can pick on the same person twice for Truth or Dare.
Ptolemus gets his wine. "Truth or dare?" he asks one of his guy friends. I tune them out.
A half-hour in, and I'm waiting for the girl's killer blow. She glances at me every so often with her dark eyes and harshly beautiful face, like a feral cat waiting to strike in her court.
I'm looking at her now, in the midst of a staring contest that battles for dominance. In spite of the power that she wields, I've decided today that I'm done with Evangeline Samos's shit when I can be just as big and bad of a bitch as she is.
"Oh."
It's only the Corps girl at my right who gets my attention. I tear my gaze from Evangeline to see that she's dropped her wine glass. Beneath the water, the glass descends, spilling red wine in its wake. A hazy cloud of scarlet, not unlike blood, spreads out through the bubbles at my side.
It takes me a moment to look up from the water. When I do, I find Cal descending the steps into the hot tub. As far as I know, he was off helping Carmadon review the recordings of our pas de deux. I doubt it was voluntary.
His shirt may have been unbuttoned last time, but now it's gone altogether. He only wears a pair of black swim trunks that stop above his knees.
The water laps at Cal's shins, then his thighs, leaving his torso exposed. It reminds me how tall he is. My eyes trail the paths of his stomach, his obliques, the lines where his shorts meet his hips. His shoulder blades and biceps shift as Cal bends down, scooping up a handful of water.
It's too late for me to avert my gaze. Cal anoints the water over his pretty face, getting his thick black hair wet in the process.
Then the water starts trailing down his body, his hands in shimmering streaks. The cords of his forearms become wet with it, water falling over his pectorals and his perfect, sensual abs.
I blink, realizing that I think of his abs as sensual.
But the water keeps falling down, down until it stops at the waistband of his shorts.
Still, I find more places to run my eyes over, from the long column of his neck, his strong arms, and the waistband that I realize my eyes keep flying back towards.
Only that snaps me out of it.
The Corps girl manages to grab the glass before it hits the hot tub's floor, and all eyes are either on her fumble or Cal. Cal barely notices it, glancing her way with a raised brow before settling between two of the other Principal guys, who are happy to make room for him.
I return my gaze to Evangeline, only to realize that her eyes never left mine.
She wears an inquisitive smirk, knowing as well as I what I was staring at. She cocks her head, eyes flashing between me and the dissolving wine.
"I smell blood in the water," Evangeline says and nods to the cloud of red before me. Her expression turns innocent as she takes a gander at her partner. "Don't worry, we've been keeping it light so far. I wouldn't have wanted you to miss the best truths and dares, Cal."
The phrase "Truth or dare" gets tossed around a dozen more times, floating from dancer to dancer as freely as the Calores' aged wine does.
Cal, Evangeline, and I are among those who haven't drank. With a glare from Cal, Maven passed off his wine to somebody else, and it takes a lot more than half a glass to get Maven tipsy. Iris and a few of the other dancers aren't drinking either, but most are indeed having a nice time.
I suppose that Evangeline, hellbent on getting her night's worth of revenge, needs to be sober when she enacts her plot. She'll want to remember it too.
"I do admit that having a season off from ballet is nice," Evangeline says, swirling the water in her glass. "My feet aren't always sore, and some of the calluses are even healing."
Evangeline is currently in the process of twisting her accident into a blessing sent from Heaven. Apparently, she's happy for the time off and the break she's been able to give her body.
"And you're a good replacement for me, Mare," she continues, patronizing me to no end. "You and Maven will have a nice season in the spotlight before Cal and I take over."
I spend half of the time she spends talking looking at my nails and the other half giving her disbelieving looks. This time when I look up, I just roll my eyes.
"First of all, I'm not your replacement. I'm a Principal as well. Second, I wouldn't call breaking your ribs and tearing your meniscus a nice break from ballet. And getting your calluses back is going to hurt. But you know that, don't you?"
In one fell swoop, I throw all of her shit back at her.
Evangeline, having realized that throwing shit back at people is one of my specialties, narrows her eyes. "I didn't know you were such a bitch, Mare Barrow."
I almost laugh. Evangeline and I are a match made in Hell.
"I'm just fighting fire with fire," I reply, shifting a calf so that a bullet of water hits it. My calves, not having had a break since this July, are used to being sore, but the hot water feels good on them. "But yes, I do pride myself on being a bitch. It's one of my great pastimes."
With my half of the Corps at my side, I've lost all interest in swallowing Evangeline's words. With everything that's happened this month, between my promotion, the gala, my contract, and the partner swap with Cal today, I won't swallow her words. Evangeline and I each hold our separate courts on opposite sides of the water, and I feel too much like a teenager as I do it.
But the night air is intoxicating, and I might as well act like a bitch while I still can.
If I'm six o'clock and Evangeline's noon, then Maven is nine and Cal is three. The brothers occupy places at the midpoint between their partners. Their eyes shift back and forth as we hurl insults, content to watch until Evangeline crosses a line. She hasn't yet, but she knows their limits.
"I hope you realize that the Academy only has enough fame for one of us. I'm Cal's partner, and you're his younger brother's," she says simply as if she's telling me that I'm on a yacht.
She's not wrong. We might both be featured in photography upon the Academy's walls, and we might both receive big-ass contracts to dance for years and years in Midtown. But we'll never be equals. We'll never receive the same attention and praise from Tiberias Calore.
"I'll get better, and my calluses will come back. Then I'll be back, and you'll be the ballerina that everybody thinks about second. In my shadow, just as you're supposed to be."
I don't let her see how her words rattle me. I once thought I was lucky to dance in a professional Corps de Ballet. Now I want more. I hold what I want to say deep inside of me because it's too dangerous to say aloud.
The Academy isn't big enough for us both. I don't think Manhattan is either, honestly. So Evangeline better hope that her knee heals before I grow out of her shadow.
"That's enough, Evangeline," Cal says, and his voice isn't especially nice about it. It's low, authoritative, matching a stern, cold, and sober expression from him. He doesn't look at me as he says it.
But it just so happens that Cal's sharp words blend with another's, who's finished explaining the truth about why she loves Evangeline Samos.
"Evangeline," Elane coos, reaching for her hand above the water. "I hereby pass my Truth or Dare onto you."
The prima ballerina smirks back. "Why thank you, Elane."
Nobody bothers telling the two girls that they aren't allowed to do that.
Evangeline wastes no time in returning her gaze to me. It isn't the first time that she's had a turn, but for whatever reason, she's been waiting. The yacht will turn around soon. Maybe the heat of the moment excites her. "Truth or dare?"
I hardly need liquor to take a risk. It's just another calculated move, another assessment of whether or not I can steal something and get away with it. "Dare," I state, deciding that I have far too many secrets.
Evangeline smiles, her lips spreading in the most vindictive way. Everything sparkles around her, from the chains on her bikini to the fairy lights. Her eyes gleam with thrill.
"I dare you to make out with one of the Calore brothers."
A moment later, my stomach suddenly pulsing with nerves, I peer back at my ballet rival. "That's all? You know you only get to pick on me once." My lips turn into a confused smile.
The hot tub, having waited for the moment all night, pivots their heads between me and Evangeline. A few glance at Maven and Cal, who I don't yet look at.
Though I'm sure it's just my imagination, I swear that the hot tub's steam starts coming off the water faster, dissolving into the night. It creates a hazy veil between me, the Calore brothers, and Evangeline, giving the setting the air of a dream. Maybe it fogs up my mind, too, just as the wine has done to half of the hot tub's denizens.
"That's all," she returns, shrugging her elegant shoulders.
I stare back at Evangeline for a perfect count of eight.
I imagined that she'd want me to do something crazy. Like, off-the-chains, humiliatingly crazy. Something that would put my fall to shame. I wonder what her truth for me was.
There's something going on here that I'm not getting. Evangeline's wide, glimmering eyes give away nothing.
She can't know about me and Maven.
She just saw me gawk at Cal and his body, but Evangeline doesn't want me anywhere near Cal.
"What's your game?" I ask, knowing she won't tell me. It's hardly my turn to ask a truth. Still, I hold out a foolish hope that she'll give me something to connect the pieces.
Evangeline's grin grows wider. She twirls a strand of dyed-platinum hair in between her fingertips, still holding onto her glass. Elane wears a similar expression, red hair like my sister's burnished golden in the light.
"It wouldn't be a game of Truth or Dare unless somebody made out with somebody else," Evangeline merely says. "What? Nervous?"
A humorless chuckle leaves my throat. I force my face to become sarcastic, to melt into a state of calm as my stomach does cartwheels. Just as I felt the first time I kissed Maven, I feel too bare in my bikini, but I leave my arms at my sides.
"Hardly," I say flatly, relenting. I can hardly bow out so I'll play into Evangeline's scheme. Whatever it is.
The steam gets thicker, and Manhattan grows distant as the twenty sets of watching eyes in the hot tub zone in on me. The dancers that lounge on the couches above us wait like ravens, smart to have stayed away from the hot tub and yet utterly intrigued as to what will happen next.
"Then who's it going to be?" Evangeline asks. She still twirls her hair, eyes flashing between the brothers that I haven't yet looked at.
Already having made up my mind, I force myself to gaze at Cal.
His eyes are already pinned on mine. I'm fortunate that the water covers his body up to his chest, leaving only his shoulders exposed. His face and hair are still wet, and the eldest Calore brother glows brighter than anything on the yacht does. He looks at me curiously, eyes bright, as though he'd entertain kissing me if only to get under my skin.
"Well," I start, uncrossing my legs. I draw out what I'm about to say as he looks on expectantly. "That's not happening."
Whether or not he sensed the blow, Cal bows his head a little before huffing a laugh. "That's your loss, Mare."
I'm sure it is. A dark part of my mind doesn't know if I could handle kissing Cal.
Elane titters in the background.
"What a special day for you, Cal. It's the first time you've been rejected by a woman," Evangeline's words ring out, and more than a few people chuckle.
Whether or not it bothers Cal, I'll never know.
Because I'm already up, wading through the bubbling water towards Maven, who's in the process of standing. Water comes away from his lean-muscled body, and it already saturates his curly hair.
Kissing Maven doesn't mean anybody will find out about us. Still, goosebumps run down my legs in the hot water.
"I guess that leaves me," Maven says innocently.
"I guess it does," I don't let emotion come into my voice.
Kind, mischievous eyes trail me, and he takes all of two waterlogged steps before he meets me at the center of the hot tub. Prepared to fulfill Evangeline's dare, he wastes no time in putting his hands on the sides of my waist as he has so many times before. It almost feels as though we're in the back of a taxi or in a shadow of Central Park again. Except this time, I'm in a swimsuit.
In a hot tub.
Surrounded by other people.
Even if it's part of a scheme, at least Maven will get his day's worth of redemption from Cal. At least I can show him in front of these people that I'd choose him over his brother, which I know that Maven needs to see today. I'm not going anywhere.
My hands soon find his shoulders, and before my lips move to his, I peer up into his eyes.
My partner, my partner in crime, my best friend, my . . . something else that Maven and I have yet to talk about. Maven not caring how we look together, his soft lips give me a reassuring smile.
Oh God. I don't let myself think about what Evangeline's doing. I don't even look at the bitch.
I give into my reckless side.
With more force than usual and a little faster too, I stand up a little taller and press my mouth onto Maven's. His lips return the favor, moving against mine with fluidity. It's nothing like the awkward, painful kiss we once shared in Blonos's studio.
Almost instantaneously, undoubtedly at the behest of Evangeline, do the people in the hot tub begin cheering. They let out tipsy whoops and clap their hands together. If they're not holding a glass.
There's a brisk excitement to kissing Maven. His lips are always cool, and now, the night air is too. It touches my arms, my collarbones, a contrast to the steaming water below me. In the whirlpool's center, we might as well look like phantoms of a far-off dream.
His mouth, the tongue that teases me at my teeth, tastes of red wine. If only to understand it better, I open my mouth more than I usually would, and I begin to find hints of sweetness, of bitterness. Delicious fruit and the finest spices find my own tongue. Salt and sourness follow.
I let him kiss me longer, trying to decipher the remnants of wine that Maven's feeding me.
He smiles against my lips, and I lean into him. I have to stop myself from reaching for his hair.
Evangeline and Elane cheer the loudest, like screeching, cackling crows.
After what I hope isn't too long but long enough for Evangeline to consider it a make-out session, I pull away from Maven, who would never leave my mouth if he had the choice. My heels return to the floor, and I drop my arms into the water.
"Was that good enough?" I offer Evangeline a derisive smile.
Maven, quite literally licking his lips as he tries to reign himself in, by my judgment, thinks it was quite good. Evangeline agrees, considering her face. Evil as ever, she looks as though she's won something. She nods after a moment, having decided that her damage is done.
"While I can't speak for Mare, Maven," she say, eyes on my partner, "where'd you learn how to French-kiss like that?"
Expecting it, Maven just rolls his eyes. "Mare and I kiss for Giselle, Evangeline. And I'm a natural, anyway."
Unbelieving, she blinks. "You've never had a girlfriend before. You didn't learn how to kiss like that by yourself."
Girlfriend.
The word echoes through the hot tub, and in my mind, another word accompanies it.
Secret.
I'm going to find out who your secret boyfriend is.
Out of the corner of my eye, Cal shifts. His face is one of displeasure, having watched me make out with his brother. Eyes a little wide, his eyebrows crunch together.
But before Evangeline or Cal might confirm their own suspicions, a new voice, not at all sent from above, makes her presence known.
"Maven and Mare. That kiss looks infinitely better than it did the first time."
Bess Blonos herself, head peeking from the third-story balcony, wears an amused, uncharacteristic face above us. She and the other instructors have gathered at the railing, probably wondering what the yelling was over as they've enjoyed their own drinks upstairs.
She, Elara, Carmadon, Rane Arven, and Anabel all watch with various looks. Arven looks bored, while Blonos, Elara, and Carmadon are looking at the two of us like we're cute little kids. Anabel looks annoyed and quickly vanishes from the railing.
"So I assume that this means that you two have taken my advice and practiced kissing in private?" Blonos asks. She hammers the final nail into my coffin and another one into my heart. "Oh, and now you're finally announcing your relationship. I could tell that you two liked each other. How sweet."
Silence runs through the yacht, and there's no hiding the flash of horror across my face as I glance towards Maven. Though he usually hides his emotions well, even the younger Calore can't stop deer-in-headlights guilt from bleeding across his face.
"What an interesting development." Evangeline purrs from across the way, faking shock and guilt as she breaks the boiling-hot ice. "I'm sorry. If I had known that you two were secret boyfriend and girlfriend, I never would've made you kiss."
"I don't know what's so confusing about it, Cal. You're obviously overthinking things."
I nod along with Maven, ten minutes into the most intense bullshitting of my life. We're arrested in place at the whirlpool's center, not having moved nor allowed to move. Besides. We're on a yacht in the middle of New York Harbor.
Now, I face Cal, who does not look happy. His face certainly isn't of his usual arrogant annoyance either.
"So," Maven's brother begins again, leaning forward a little. "You're telling me that you've been sneaking around Manhattan for the last two weeks and making out, not because you want to, but because Blonos told you that you were bad at kissing and needed to practice in private."
"My exact words," Blonos calls from above, though by now, I'd like for the woman to shut up. She's already announced to the entire yacht how scared I was when she first forced me to kiss Maven, saying that I looked like a strawberry while my partner looked like a pasty ghost.
"That's right, Cal," I tell him. I wish that I had pockets to stick my hands in because my hands have nowhere to go. I could always just jump off of the yacht too. "Maven's not my secret boyfriend. We're just friends who kiss. I don't even like him like that."
The face of crime that I wear tells another story.
"We make out, actually," Maven clarifies. I don't know who he thinks he's helping.
Cal's expression is dark. He's the protective type of Maven, and he knows what I am. The girl that once tried to steal from him is smacking lips with his brother. He's probably disappointed in himself for not figuring it out sooner.
"I'm almost eighteen," Maven argues, rolling his eyes at Cal. "My relationship with Mare is none of your business. You need to chill out."
With no intention of chilling out, Cal's eyes drift to mine. They're warning, almost threatening. The bronze in them speaks of a promise that we'll have a talk very soon.
"Yeah, Cal," Evangeline quips back. Whatever her plan was tonight, she seems to be satisfied with how it played out. The yacht now on its way back to the marina, most of the hot tubers have reluctantly abandoned their seats and left to go change. Evangeline, Elane, Iris, the Calore brothers, and I are the only ones left. "You should chill out. You shouldn't meddle in things."
I look at Evangeline. She doesn't meet my gaze. Her eyes are fixed on Cal's. She looks more triumphant than she has all night long, wearing her vindictiveness, arrogance, and masterful manipulation as well as she'd wear a Chanel coat.
Cal stares back at her in an odd way. In return, he wears anger with his partner.