Limerence (Famous Young Things): Chapter 13

The night of the gala comes quicker than I want it to. For a whole truckload of reasons. I’m dreading it, which is abnormal for me. I love performing, live for it even, and this is the first live show in months. I don’t mind competing either. But tonight is different. Tonight, either me or Nico will be called second best, and I’m not sure what I’ll do if it happens to be me.

I’m not one to doubt my talent or my skill, but I haven’t gone head-to-head with Nico Savini since I was fifteen, and while I’ve gotten better, so has he.

And to top it all, I’ve been thinking that maybe he was right; maybe I should have chosen Paquito. I’d thought about changing last week, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d gotten inside my head. Anyway, how do I know he wasn’t just trying to throw me off? Maybe watching me practice had scared him, and he was trying to force doubts into my head.

So, I worked harder on the variation than I’d worked on anything in my life. I had turned up on time and pulled out fourteen hours a day for the last week and I was fucking tired.

I just have to get through this. And then, at the very least, I can rest for a bit.

I have to prove to him that I am the best. That this is my company, and he doesn’t just get to prance in through the door and take lead away from me.

Tonight, everything I’ve worked for is on the line, and my father will be in the audience to witness it; whether I win or lose.

Don’t embarrass me, he’d texted this morning.

I wasn’t sure if that meant don’t fall over, don’t lose the lead, or don’t be too gay in front of my colleagues.

To be safe, I decided he meant all three.

Christian is coming too, which is both a blessing and a curse. He’ll be proud of me no matter what happens, and will help balance out whatever vibes my dad is giving off, but it is always hard being in the same room as him and not being able to even look at him too long. It is an added tension I don’t need tonight.

I’m at the dressing table, Charlie doing my eyeliner with extreme skill and focus, when there’s a knock on the dressing room door.

“Are ye decent in there?” Ava shouts from behind it before popping her head through.

I say back, “There’s not a decent bone in my body, babes.”

“Forgot.” She grins, slipping in through the door and closing it behind her. “Charles,” she greets before collapsing down on the sofa. “How you doing?”

“Fine,” I lie.

“Saw the right honourable prick out there.”

“Great. He couldn’t have done me a favour and had an emergency amendment go through the house tonight, could he?”

She gives me a grim smile. She’s already dressed, looking spectacular in a green bell tutu and green and gold embroidered bodice. Her freckled skin is dusted with gold and orange. When Charlie stands up, announcing he’s done, I look in the mirror. Dark, dramatic shadows rim my lower lids, my lips red and full, with a shiny layer of gloss. The outfit is a pair of white tights and a white poet shirt, a dark purple sash looped around my hips. My hair has been slicked back from my forehead with a single curl loose at the front.

“Perfect, thanks, mate,” I tell him.

“My pleasure, fair prince.”

He drops into a bow, sets down his pallet, and disappears into the bathroom.

When the door is closed, Ava says quietly, “Has he paid you back yet?”

I shrug. “It’s fine.”

“He takes advantage of you.”

I snort. “Eh, no one takes advantage of me.”

“You know what I mean—your generosity.”

“Money isn’t something I care about, you know that. I don’t give a fuck if he pays me back, Ava. Just like I don’t give a fuck if you pay me rent.” Things have been strained since the whole Nico affair, which, after my warning to him a fortnight ago, seems to have cooled off a little. I haven’t asked her about it, but I haven’t seen him at the house again.

“Well, that’s different.” She sounds a little hurt.

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, I don’t see it as such. I have more money than I need, so I share it with people who don’t. It’s not a big deal to me.”

She’s quiet for a few moments. “Look, I know things have been a bit weird the last wee while… but I just wanted to say I want you to get this. You deserve it, and by rights it should be yours.”

I level a look at her. “You sure you don’t like the idea of you and Nico as the next Magdalena and Stephan? Fen seems to have that idea, too, given the amount of pairing up she has you do with him; be a bit of a pain in the arse if I got in the way of that.”

She blinks at this and sits up. “What? No. I don’t like the idea of that, Felix.”

“Okay, alright. I was joking, calm down.”

“Good. Because that’s not… it.” She stands and lets out a sigh. “I hate how weird everything’s been since… well, him. Look, I’m not going to let anyone come between us, Lix. It’s why I’ve cooled things off with him.”

I blink in surprise. “You have?”

She lifts one shoulder. “Yeah. He was giving mixed messages and like, I don’t need that. So you don’t have to worry about it, okay? He’s just not that into me.”

“What makes you think he’s not into you?” A sliver of guilt threads through me. Stay the hell away from her, fuckboy.

“Uh, because we’ve not done anything beyond hang out.”

This gets my full and undivided attention. “But he stayed over. I found him in the kitchen the other week.”

“He fell asleep on the sofa, Felix.”

Oh, so that had been the truth? She looks embarrassed by this, so I try to ignore my own feelings about it; sparkles of relief ? Which, on top of my thinking about him the other night while being fucked by Christian, was just far too complicated to even get into. I wouldn’t know where to bloody start.

“Do you actually like him?” I ask, tentatively.

Ava rarely liked anyone. It was a joke that she never got laid because she was fussy as fuck and extremely unimpressed by straight men in general. It would honestly be easier for her if she liked women, but she just didn’t swing that way.

Truthfully, I hadn’t seen her interested in anyone for a long time, until Nico appeared. More guilt. She’s looking at me now as though she’s not sure how to answer, or like she’s afraid to.

“He’s… different. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because he actively isn’t trying to get me into bed.” She laughs, a tad bitterly. “Except, the issue is, I want him to. But you hate him and don’t want him around the house, so I don’t know where that even leaves me… it’s a whole lot of hassle I don’t really need if he’s just not into me. So, it’s fine.” She shrugs again.

“Have you spoken to him? Like asked him outright if he’s interested?”

Another laugh. “Of course not.”

I turn fully to her then. She hasn’t liked anyone in a long time, and for whatever reason, she likes him. So who the fuck am I to stand in the way of it. I wouldn’t be the first best friend to hate their bestie’s boyfriend. Fact is, I’ve made this about myself when it has nothing at all to do with me.

I’m a selfish prick. And a crap friend too, if we’re being honest.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“What for?”

“The Nico stuff. It has nothing to do with me. You were right. I think he’s an arrogant irritating arsehole and that you can do way better, but if you like him then… that has nothing to do with me.”

She’s looking at me, a measure of distrust on her face as she tries to figure out if I’m being sincere.

“I’m being serious,” I say to help her out.

“So you’d have no issue with him coming over and fucking me senseless every other night?”

Oh, I hate the weird twist of something I get in my gut at the mental image.

“None,” I manage.

“And if you see him in the kitchen in the morning, you’d be civil?”

“I’d never promise to be civil to anyone, but that’s never held you back before.”

She grins and throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around me.

“I love you,” she says, sounding a little emotional.

“Love you too.”

“I’ll talk to him tonight, it’s been driving me crazy anyway.” She pulls back and gives me a once-over. “You look amazing by the way, and you’re gonna smash it. I’ve absolutely no doubt. See you out there.”

She’s at the door when I call out, “Aves, should I have chosen Paquito?”

Ava stops, turns, and frowns. “What?”

“I’ve just been wondering. I won the Grand Prix with that once, maybe I should have chosen it for tonight instead of Swan Lake. It’s tired and done.”

She thinks about it, hard.

“Yeah, but Swan Lake is your favourite. It’s also a fan favourite—it makes sense to have chosen it for tonight; the crowd will appreciate it. Paquito is… showy.”

“Bluebird is showy.”

“True. Which could lose him the crowd and the spot. Not to mention there are so many ways it could go wrong for him.”

I nod even though I disagree. Nico isn’t going to go wrong tonight. He’s not going to lose the crowd either, he’s going to have them in the palm of his hand while I bore them with a routine they’ve all seen a million times before.

Since we’re not required to network and schmooze until after the show, there’d been no opportunity to speak with Christian earlier. But he had sent me a text. The difference between the tone of his and my father’s was an ocean apart.

SCD:

Good luck! You’ve got this, beautiful. Can’t wait to see you later. X We’d arranged for me to go to his place. If we could sneak out of here together then we would, otherwise I’d leave shortly after him. My father never hung around long after these sorts of things anyway, so we’d escape his notice certainly. He hated talking to people who didn’t think the same as him or who disagreed with him about what were the fundamental issues contributing to our crumbling society. It’s why he’ll never be prime minister. That and the fact he’s tremendously unlikable. I mean, most politicians are, but my father beats out most of the others.

By contrast, Christian is one of the most well-liked politicians in the country, if not the world—of course it helps that he’s a handsome widower—and has far, far more of a chance at being prime minister than my father. They both know it too. But Christian is losing all desire for running the country, and in fact, he’s become increasingly disinterested in running the foreign office. He’s not been in politics long by some standards, but says even in that time it’s become more corrupt and less focussed on helping the people of the UK than ever. A rot that could only be treated by anarchism, he’d joked once. He says he stays because at least that way he knows there’s one person he can trust in the cabinet.

He’s talked about leaving the UK altogether. Buying a ranch somewhere in the middle of America and writing a tell-all book about his life in the upper echelons of the British government. I told him that MI6 would probably take him out before it was published. Or my father would hire a hitman.

Charlie comes out of the shower a few minutes later, miniscule towel wrapped around his tiny waist. He has a figure to die for, and it stuns me a little every time. When he catches me staring, a blush creeps into his cheeks.

I look away quickly, lest he get the wrong idea. “Were you having a bath in there?” I move to get his costume off the hanger—grey and silver tunic, grey tights, dance belt. “Here, let me help you.” He drops his towel and dries himself quickly and roughly. I throw his belt at him.

“Doubt anyone would miss me if I wasn’t onstage.” It’s said lightly, but has a sting of cynicism.

“I would,” I counter. He tucks his cock in and looks at me. It’s the way he often looks at me. Lovingly.

I pretend not to notice it. “You get the stuff with your landlord sorted then?”

He’d texted to say he’d gotten the money I’d put in his bank. Six months’ rent for his flat; an overpriced studio in Camden with damp patches on the walls and a shower that never works. His landlord is an exploitative, lazy prick too. I hated giving him money but if it kept a roof over Charlie’s head, then fuck it. It’s only money. If we had the room, I’d move him in with us. On second thought, maybe I wouldn’t. I doubt it would do him any good to live with me. Though it might smother this little flame he’s carried about for me if he saw how fucking awful I look first thing.

“Yeah, I did. Thank you. I will pay you back, I promise.”

I shake my head as I hand him his tights. “I told you, it doesn’t matter. Don’t stress yourself out about it, alright?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to think—”

“I don’t think anything.” I tap my temple. “Head empty, no thoughts. Well, except cock.”

Charlie laughs. “Obviously.”

I help him pull on his tights—an Olympic sport when fresh out of the shower—and his tunic, before directing him to the chair. While I quickly do his hair, he does his own make-up.

There’s a thump on the door. “Fifteen minutes until curtains!”

“You nervous?” he asks me in the mirror. “About the spot, I mean.”

“Not really. Nerves don’t really factor into it.”

“If you don’t get it, I’ll riot. We all will.”

“Savini won’t.”

“Yeah, well, they can’t run a company with only a lead, so…”

“If he gets it then it’s because he’s the best,” I say diplomatically. “That’s how this shit goes. I’ll look for somewhere else.”

Charlie’s eyes widen. “You can’t leave.”

“I couldn’t stay. Not to play second.” Not to him. Though, deep down, he’s the only one I’d play second to. Because he is the best.

Charlie puts his sponge down and turns to me. “If you go, I’m going.”

I laugh. “Don’t be bloody stupid, mate.”

“Felix, you can’t go. Promise me you won’t go. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here. I barely keep my head above water here as it is…” There’s genuine panic in his eyes now. I set a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, nothing’s decided. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying. How could I leave Aves and you?” I curl a hand around his neck and squeeze gently. “I’m just talking. I’m gonna get the spot anyway, so this is all moot.” I wink.

There’s no warning before he does it, but there’d been a brief indication in his eyes, which should have been a sign. He’d tried it once before; drunk out of his mind, pretending the next day as though nothing had happened. He surges forward and presses his mouth to mine, kissing me hard. His tongue, warm and sweet, pushes into my mouth as he sucks at my lips. I’m too surprised to react right away, but when I do, it’s not to Charlie’s mouth, it’s to the sound of the dressing room door being thrown open.

We separate and I turn to see Ben, Nico at his back in full Bluebird costume, watching us. My hand is still on Charlie’s neck, and I drop it and take a step back.

Ben’s gaze travels between us both, mildly confused. Nico’s expression is a lot harder to read.

Finally, to me, Ben says, “I need you out front. Now.”