Free Dance of Shadows by Yelena Black

an actual boyfriend. “It’s only been a week.”
    “I know!” Blaine exclaimed. “I thought it would only take a day. Maybe two.” He gave her a wink.
    “I honestly thought I was going to die after three toe lessons in a row,” TJ added.
    “I know,” Steffie said, her long chain earrings dangling down to her shoulders like icicles. “It’s like learning to dance all over again.”
    “Or realizing you never learned to dance,” TJ interjected. “I suck.”
    “You don’t suck,” Vanessa said. “You got in here, didn’t you?”
    TJ suddenly looked sheepish. “Yeah, I guess,” she said, reminding Vanessa of the way her roommate had reacted when she’d revealed that her parents were on the board of trustees. At first it made TJ seem sort of lucky, but now Vanessawondered if being connected wasn’t more of a burden. If TJ felt like she didn’t truly earn her spot at NYBA.
    “If Elly were here, she’d say that everyone has something they’re truly great at,” Steffie added. “You just have to find that thing.”
    The four of them fell quiet, feeling Elly’s absence. For a few days, Elly had grown more and more withdrawn, and it showed in her dancing too. She’d been making elementary mistakes, and Hilda and Josef were noticing.
    “What’s she doing tonight?” TJ asked, brushing back her curls.
    “She said she was going to stay in and read,” Vanessa murmured, and glanced down at her playbill for the opening night of the New York City Ballet production of Tchaikovsky’s
Sleeping Beauty
. “She seemed so sad when she told me. She really wanted to come.”
    “Speaking of sad,” said Blaine, breaking the mood, “I went on a date with Andreas. That angular blond guy in our class? You know, the one who’s friends with those two scrawny brunettes from Brooklyn?”
    TJ gave him a sympathetic look. “Didn’t go well?”
    Blaine looked forlorn. “He has this bizarre obsession with Wagner. After dinner, he made me listen to the entirety of
Die Walküre
on his surround-sound speakers, and let me tell you—there’s only so much horn this southern boy can take in one night, and that about filled my quota for the
year
.”
    TJ grimaced, but Vanessa and Steffie only laughed at the image of Blaine enduring Wagner at full volume.
    “Watch your dress,” he added as Vanessa climbed the stairs. “You have to kick and then take a step,” he said, flourishing an imaginary gown. “That way you won’t stomp on that lovely lace hem.” He paused. “Don’t ask me how I know that.”
    “Thanks,” Vanessa said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
    Vanessa scanned the rows, looking for their seats, when she felt someone watching her.
    A dissonant chord floated up from the orchestra pit as the musicians tuned their instruments. It mounted until it silenced the audience.
    Slowly, Vanessa’s gaze wandered to the opposite aisle, where Zep stood, his face sharp as forged metal. He was wearing a sleek black suit and a tie, his broad chest rising and falling as if it were going to burst through the fabric. His hair was slicked back, giving him a dapper look that was incredibly appealing—like a young Fred Astaire, only way hotter, just as he’s about to whisk Ginger Rogers onto the dance floor. Zep was beautiful, that much was undeniable, and hearing Blaine talk about going on a date made her wonder what it would be like to sit down with Zep for a fancy dinner in a romantically lit restaurant and get to know each other properly.
    Vanessa blinked and studied him again. One hand was hidden in a pocket; the other held a playbill. Anna Franko clutched his elbow, but his eyes were locked on Vanessa.
    She felt him studying her face, her neck, her collarbone. She flushed, but she couldn’t look away. The distance between them seemed to collapse, and it no longer mattered that they had never met, or that Anna Franko was standing beside him,her eyes narrowing as she gazed from Zep to Vanessa. It already felt like they