Lost In Your Words

Opening night is about control. That’s the only thing that matters. I stand just behind the curtain, rolling my shoulders once before going still. The bass from the speakers runs up through the floor and into my legs—steady, predictable. Good. That’s something I can rely on. I reach up without thinking, adjusting the thin choker at my throat. It’s already in place. It always is. Still—habit. The crowd is loud tonight. I can hear it even through the curtain. Better that way. Less room to think. “Try not to freeze up out there.” I don’t turn right away. “…Worried about me?” I ask. “Not even a little.” I glance over. Liam’s leaning against the wall like he always does—like none of this matters, like he didn’t rehearse just as much as the rest of us. His sleeves are pushed up just enough to show that worn leather wrap around his wrist, and there’s a chain sitting loose at his collar, catching the light when he shifts. Normal. He looks normal. So why— “…You good?” I ask. The words come out before I can stop them. He blinks. “Yeah. Why?” I shrug. “You looked out of it.” “I wasn’t.” “Sure.” That should be the end of it. Usually it is. But when I look away, it doesn’t feel like it’s over. There’s this… awareness. Faint, but there. Like he’s still looking at me. I shift my weight, and the chain at my hip taps lightly against my leg before going still again. “Focus,” I mutter. “Yeah,” he says. A second too late. ⸻ “Places!” Everything moves at once. I step into position without thinking. The second the music hits, my body follows—clean, sharp, exactly on beat. The curtain lifts, lights hit, and the crowd disappears into noise. This part is easy. Every step lands exactly where it should. Every turn is controlled. Nothing wasted. Perfect. And then— Something pulls my attention. Just for a second. Across the stage. Liam. He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, moving like he always does—looser than me, smoother. Like he’s not thinking about it at all. Normal. So why does it feel like— I turn sharply into the next step, cutting the thought off. Doesn’t matter. ⸻ We cross paths halfway through the routine. Close. Closer than we need to be. And something slips. Timing. Barely. Half a second, maybe less—but I feel it immediately. My eyes flick toward him. He doesn’t look at me. If anything, he looks more focused, like he’s correcting it before it even exists. The chain at his collar shifts when he moves, catching the stage light before settling again. Like nothing happened. My jaw tightens. Fine. I adjust. Fall back into rhythm. Don’t miss another step. Still— I noticed it. And I don’t miss things like that. ⸻ The final beat hits. I lock into the last pose, completely still, breathing controlled as the applause crashes over us. Lights dim slightly. Curtain starts to fall. Clean. Exactly how it should be. I step back as soon as we’re offstage, flexing my fingers once. “Not bad,” I say. “Not bad?” Liam repeats. I glance at him. “Don’t get used to it.” He smiles a little. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” There. That’s normal. I nod once— Then stop. “…You hesitated.” He stills. “Didn’t.” “You did. Half a second.” He looks at me then. Really looks. I hold his gaze. Waiting for him to argue. He doesn’t. “…Maybe,” he says. I blink. That’s new. “You’re not even gonna deny it?” “No point if you already noticed.” I cross my arms, tilting my head slightly. One of the hoops on my ear catches the light when I move. “Wow,” I say. “Something’s definitely wrong.” “Nothing’s wrong.” “You’re off.” “And you’re overthinking it.” “That’s not—” “It is.” The response is automatic. Familiar. I exhale, letting it settle. “Just don’t do it again,” I say, grabbing my water bottle. “We don’t mess up on opening night.” “We didn’t.” “We almost did.” “Almost doesn’t count.” I lower the bottle, about to argue— And stop. He’s looking at me again. Not obvious. Not intense. Just— There. Like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. I go still. “…What?” He blinks, like he just snapped out of something. “Nothing.” Too quick. I watch him for a second longer, trying to figure it out. But whatever it is— it’s gone again. “…Right,” I say, turning away. Not worth it. Opening night. That’s all it is. ⸻ “Two minutes!” I set the bottle down and roll my shoulders again, resetting. My hand brushes the choker at my throat before dropping. Focus. That’s what matters. I move back into position, eyes forward. Still— right before the next set starts— I glance over. Just once. Liam’s already looking away, like he wasn’t watching me at all. He adjusts his sleeve slightly, the leather wrap tightening around his wrist. I frown. Then shake it off. Doesn’t matter. ⸻ It shouldn’t matter. And yet— For the rest of the night— I keep noticing him. Just a little more than usual.