Page 57 of Lights, Camera, Love

The melodic opening bars of ‘Lose Yourself’ by Eminem drift through Barfly. The moment the guitar kicks in over the piano, the coloured stage lights flash on, and Usher does a backwards air-walk onto the stage to a chorus of whoops and cheers.

Kye and I stand in the wings, my back resting against his chest and his chin set on my hair as we watch Usher, Bliss, Snuggles, Mayday and Avalanche burn up the floor with the moves they’ve worked so hard on. It’s incredible how far each of them has come since they first walked into my class.

Cameras rigged to the ceiling film the performance, live-streaming the dance-a-thon while leaving the nightclub’s main floor free for volunteers from the local community to dance around in.

The event will run for twelve hours, and each dancer is encouraged, but definitely not required, to dance for at least two hours straight to get the maximum donations for Angel Care.

Over at the bar, Mum and Jack nurse two tall glasses of water, hydrating before their session.

Last week, my dad let me in on a secret: he’s pledged an extra hundred thousand on top of the half a million he’s already donated, but he’ll only hand it over if my mum makes it through the entire two hours.

My regulars, who have—adorably—chosen to wear ‘Team Evie’ T-shirts, are here to warm up the crowd and lead the first dance session.

Kye and I are scheduled to hit the stage a little later in the night; we’re doing a super-cool funk routine with a Latin twist, which we choreographed to ‘Despacito’ by Luis Fonsi.

Before that, I’ve got a hip-hop solo that I’m still mentally rehearsing.

It’s all been the perfect distraction for Kye, whose brother is getting out of jail the day after tomorrow.

Even though he has visited Jace several times now, I’ve noticed the shallowness of his breaths and the clamminess of his skin this past week.

I’m hoping that tonight will help release some of the pent-up anxiety he’s been carrying around since Jace found out he was being released on parole.

We offered to pick him up from Long Bay and bring him to the apartment we’re renting near the city, but Jace turned down our offer without giving a reason.

Of course, Kye has been overthinking that to the point of madness, but I keep reassuring him that it might be a good thing if he and his brother aren’t trapped inside a shoebox apartment together while they’re still just trying to reconnect.

As I watch the dancers, my fingertips trace over the forearm Kye has locked around my torso, my thumb playing with the fraying edge of his leather bracelet as I say a silent little prayer that things stay good between the two of them after Jace gets out.

While I’m here, metaphorically on my knees, I thank all the higher powers in the universe for giving me Kye. For granting me this perfectly still love.

We stand in the darkness, both completely aware that either of us could walk out the door at any moment and never come back, the way others have done to us before. But we haven’t. Every day since we kissed on that harbourside balcony a year ago, we have chosen this. Chosen us.

Love is staying.

When my burgeoning hip-hop stars have finished their routine, it’s my turn to get up on stage.

I mentally run through the choreography of my solo performance one more time as I untangle myself from Kye’s comforting embrace, head onto the stage, and find the lights that flood my features. And then I turn to look back at him.

He stands in the shadowy wings, his broad arms folded over his navy-blue T-shirt and his eyes locked on mine, staring at my face.

Then, he smiles.