find one,” I said as I turned to leave.
“Me too, Ruby…me too.”
I stopped short when I remembered why I wanted to talk to him in the first place.
“Hey, are you coming tonight?”
“That's the plan,” he said, his back facing me again.
“As in 'that's the plan but it may not be carried out'?” I asked for clarification.
“No. As in 'I'll be there because that's the plan'.”
“Good,” I replied, walking out of the bathroom. The dryer buzzing down the hall was my cue to leave.
* * *
Backstage was chaotic as I had expected it to be. My nerves were getting the best of me, making it difficult to put my false eyelashes on. Matty walked by and laughed as I nearly glued my eye shut.
“Here,” he said reaching his hand out for the tube. “Before you hurt yourself.”
He drew a thin line across the base of the fake eyelashes and delicately plopped it in place, just above my lash line. He took the liberty of doing the other side, and I didn’t argue.
“Are you sure you're not gay?” I asked jokingly, knowing that he got that question all the time.
“Yes, I'm sure. I have three older sisters. They used me for dress up,” he replied. “I do this instead of getting therapy. I figured I'd put my torture to good use.” He lifted my chin to the light to inspect his work. “It looks good, but you need more shadow. And you could stand a little more bronzer too.”
“More bronzer? I think the jig is up, Matty. I'm ghostly pale, and no amount of bronzer will hide that fact.”
“The stage lights will wash your face out more. You need to give definition to it,” he explained. “Here, give me that. I'll do it.”
I let him fix my face up to his satisfaction then went to the dressing area to get prepared for the first number. Once dressed, I sat and stretched in a corner by myself. This was a big moment for me, and I was thinking about how nice it would have been to share it with my parents. The only person who'd be there was Cooper, and I wasn't positive that would even happen. I felt very alone. As I made my way to the stage for the opening number I tried not to focus on that.
My first three of four performances went amazingly well. Being on stage was intense but thrilling at the same time. The lights blinded me and I could barely see that people were watching me have my moment on the vast stage. I was officially in love with performing.
Matty found me before our last dance together and we ran through a few technical moves while we waited; our number was second to last. He said that was quite a compliment to the choreography. I took his word for it.
I must have looked nervous because he came and put his arm around me in a friendly gesture.
“You're doing great, Ruby. You're really far more talented than you give yourself credit for,” he said encouragingly.
“Thanks, but it's not that.”
“What is it? Can I help?” he asked sweetly.
I frowned at him and shrugged.
“It's just, well, the last time I 'performed' this piece for someone, it was really private, and somewhat accidental for that matter,” I tried to explain. “I feel a bit…exposed doing it here. I didn't realize that I would.”
He hugged me with his long arms and put his chin on my head.
“Dance is therapeutic, Ruby. You're not exposed, you're vulnerable – but I'll be with you. Focus on that.”
I smiled up at him as I gave him a squeeze back.
“I don't think I could do this with anyone other than you,” I said admiringly.
“I know,” he said smiling. “I'm the only one tall enough to lift you.”
I punched him in the arm lightly as I called him a choice name in jest.
“At least I didn't call you big! That would have been misinterpreted for sure,” he laughed. “I'd have been in the dog house forever!”
“True. And my tall ass forgives you, for now,” I replied. He seemed satisfied with that response.
We joked around for a few more minutes before we had to line up in the wings; we were next. As the