Page 8 of Run, Starlight (The Royal Ballet Presents #3)

MARCELLA

I’m losing my mind. I mean, what other reasonable excuse is there for a girl who realizes she has a stalker and starts masturbating?

Oh, then sees her stalker watching her in her room, but instead of screaming, she has the most intense orgasm of her life?

I know I’m broken beyond repair, none of that has been a secret to me for a long time, what I didn’t know was that being a dirty little freak could make me come so fucking hard.

The things inside my dorm look the same.

I wish I could say he took something and it was just a common thief, but nothing of mine went missing.

Anna had already taken her belongings, so there was nothing of hers to steal.

He was here for one reason. He wanted to watch me.

Instead of chasing him away, I gave him a show.

I asked him if he liked how I came for him, and he didn’t fucking answer.

Last night, Fabrizio visited me again. Same smile and same gun blowing his brains out.

I have a stalker now. I should be having nightmares about that instead, but I didn’t.

Just the same damn torment all over again.

I don’t think I’m even afraid of the giant hulking shadow.

If I were, I wouldn’t be so excited about the idea of him coming back.

I’m relieved Anna decided not to come back, that she held true to finding a friend to stay with, but there are no single rooms, and I fear I can’t escape the fallout of my solitude forever.

My feet drag to practice since I don’t have a choice but to force some order into my life.

Dancing is all I have, and the only reason I’m not back at home waking up to the same wall we cleaned Fabrizio off.

Despite all the excitement of last night, the views climbing into the stratosphere, my face is devoid of emotion when I reach the dressing room.

You need real sleep, or you start to fall apart.

Last night was just one in a long string of sleepless nightmare-filled nights.

For years, I’ve had to act like I’m not falling apart at the seams, and today is no different.

I’m falling apart, yet I simply have to hold it all together.

Tulle wrapped and en pointe, I leave the dressing room with a myriad of eyes on me.

Anna must have been talking last night. I take my position as I would any other day, ignoring the looks and whispers.

Antonella starts us from the top. We are going over Act Two today, so the room is not as full as it usually is with Act One.

I can’t imagine what they were saying earlier.

The sequences are heavier, full of emotion and arm choreography.

The tension in my shoulders melts, and I give myself to the music once again.

An hour passes as we finish that section, I move to third position and wait for the music to start again when the shocking red hair of Tracey Garry interrupts our rehearsal.

My eyes fall closed, and I take a fortifying breath.

Tracey is the housing administrator. Since arriving, I’ve met with her each time a roommate asked to be moved .

Antonella calls my name, and I nod. Third time's a charm, right? They can’t keep giving me roommates every few weeks.

I follow Tracey to the office, and I’m halfway to tears, assuming the worst. If I have to go back to living with my parents—I’m not sure I can take it.

I shake myself off. No, I’ll do anything before I’m back there listening to my mom cry all day, but the only option I can really think of right now is begging on my knees because rent is insane in this city.

She smiles at me, but I can’t return it, and when she waves for me to follow her down the hall, it’s like a rock sinking to the bottom of my stomach.

“Sit, please, Marcella,” she tells me as we arrive in her office.

The small room is beyond cramped, the table pushed against the far wall, and I can barely see anything under the piles and piles of paperwork. This is even worse than the last time I was here, and I feel guilty about adding more to her plate when she’s clearly overwhelmed.

“Anna is moving in with another girl,” she says, not mincing words or wasting time. We’ve been through this.

“Did she say why?” I ask, curious what she’s telling people.

“Not anything I expressly believe.” Tracey hums and opens a cardboard box with cookies. “Take one.”

I do, but I hold it in my hand instead of biting into it. She doesn’t take long with hers, eating as she looks down at her documents. I wish she would just tell me what the hell this means for me instead of leaving me hanging.

“I think this is probably our last option since we can’t keep doing this.”

“I understand,” I say, already poised to pack.

“Here.” She hands me a document. “Sign it for me.”

I breathe out and sign it. There’s no point in being difficult. I don’t even blame the girls. I just wish I could do something to make this better.

“Take the day off rehearsal and move for me, please, Marcella.”

Oh shit. What does she mean by that? I can’t move right now! I don’t have anywhere to go! I need to find a job too. They know better than to think I can pay rent solely with what they pay me. My silence stretches, and she finally looks up, her smile melting off her face when she looks at me.

“What’s wrong?”

I swallow my tears. “I can’t move right now, Tracey. I need to find a place. Can you give me a couple of weeks?”

She blinks slowly, and my heart is hammering inside my chest. Ballet is my job. I’m not made for anything but dancing myself to exhaustion.

“Marcella, did you read the agreement?” she asks.

I shake my head because no, I didn’t.

She hands it back to me without saying anything.

My eyes zoom through the words, and I read some paragraphs twice; it’s too good to be true.

They aren’t sending me away. What I thought was a standard agreement covering their asses to refuse me housing is actually a transfer to another block and a brand new dorm with no roommates.

“I have a private room?” I ask after reading it three times.

“Good, huh?” Tracey nods and takes the document from me.

I bite into my cookie. It’s pretty fucking good .

I head back to what is no longer my room and pack up my stuff.

Anna stands there watching me with a snooty look on her face, all the things she took with her are back, and she’s got a friend with her already poised to sleep in my bed.

I’m not sure if she thinks I’m getting kicked out of housing or what, but neither of them asks, and I never tell them what’s happening.

I’m not sure where they’re transferring me, but even if I have half the space I have here, I’m going to be far better off alone.

Just not having to worry about waking someone up will be great.

Maybe I can concentrate just on myself and how to get rid of the nightmares.

It takes me about an hour to pack everything up.

Anna gives up glaring at me and moves on with her day, seeming to accept my eventual absence as a consolation prize worth moving on for.

My Doc Martens are by the door, and I push my feet into them, looking around to see if I have forgotten anything.

All I have is a bag over my shoulders and a couple of boxes piled over my old bed.

I have no idea where the new block is, so I have to wait for them to move me, but I’m in such a good mood, I don’t even mind.

Another half an hour goes by until there’s a knock on the door.

I practically skip to answer it and find a very large man waiting.

Goosebumps break over my skin, and I get a feeling like I’ve seen him around the theater, but I can’t remember where.

He fits the doorframe perfectly and towers over me by at least a foot.

We are both in black, me jeans and a Ramones T-shirt and boots, while he's in a dark suit with a haircut that looks like it’s more expensive than most people’s rent.

His eyes are caramel and sharp, his features strong.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“Are you Marcella?” he asks, and despite his voice being masculine and sexy, it’s gentle, maybe even unsure beyond the question at hand. Is he nervous?

“I am.”

“I’m supposed to show you to your new room. I’m Enzo,” he says, and it’s such a handsome name.

“Is that short for something?” I ask .

“Lorenzo, Miss Marcella. I’m happy to help.”

I smile broadly at him, finding something about him so endearing. Despite his good looks, he has that feeling of being an outsider, like me, and I instantly feel a connection with him, an urge to reach out.

“That’s really nice of you,” I say.

“Can I help you with your things?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, stepping into the space to grab whatever he can. Anna stares at him with open-mouthed hunger, but I ignore her and so does Enzo.

“I just have a couple of boxes.” I point at the pile I planned to carry myself.

His suit is too nice for manual labor, and I want to tell him not to bother, but he’s already stepping between me and the boxes. He’s so large that I stumble back to give him room, and he grabs the boxes before I can stop him. He has everything in his massive arms, making it look far too easy.

“I could have taken those,” I say.

“No need with me here.” His answer brings a slight blush to my cheeks. Oh man, when was the last time I had a crush? I can’t remember, but he is extremely cute.

We leave my room and walk down the hall in companionable silence.

The two flights of stairs are nothing compared to rehearsal, but I’m impressed when he keeps up and isn’t the slightest bit winded holding the boxes.

When we step out on the top floor, we see a big, beautiful window looking out over the city.

It’s gorgeous and spacious. Even the hallway is wider, with only a couple of doors compared to the packed floor below.

“Right this way, Miss Marcella,” he says, drawing me away from the view.