Unwritten Steps

Chapter 11: The Calm Before the Storm

The air in Aurora's room felt still, almost heavy, as she sat cross-legged on her bed. A soft glow from her desk lamp cast shadows on the walls, dancing around the photo of her and Finn from one of their rooftop adventures. She hadn't seen him today, but his voice still lingered in her mind, a mix of confidence and tenderness that somehow made her feel safe.

But tonight, she couldn't shake the weight pressing down on her. The showcase results were coming soon, and the excitement she'd felt at first was now overrun by doubt. What if she hadn't made it? What if all the work, the late nights, and the endless rehearsals had been for nothing?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was Rachel.

Rachel: Breathe, girl. Whatever happens, we celebrate tomorrow. Meet me at Blackbird.

Aurora smiled faintly, grateful for Rachel's unwavering support. But even Rachel didn't know how much was riding on this. Dance wasn't just a passion—it was her lifeline, her way out of everything that had ever held her back.

Her fingers hovered over her phone, debating whether to text Finn. She wanted to hear his voice, to feel that calm he always seemed to bring. But she didn't text him. Instead, she stared at the screen, her chest tightening with a familiar ache. Vulnerability. The thing she feared most.

Finn had called her out on it once.

"You're impossible to read, you know that?" he'd said, sitting across from her at Blackbird Coffee.

"I'm not trying to be," she'd replied, avoiding his gaze.

Finn had leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "No, you're just terrified of letting anyone see what's really going on in here." He'd tapped his temple, then his chest. "You keep it all locked up because you're scared someone will judge you for it."

Aurora had laughed it off then, but his words had stuck with her. She hated crying in front of people, hated the idea of anyone seeing her as weak. Vulnerability felt like a trap—one that had only ever led to pain.

Her phone buzzed again, breaking the silence. This time, it was Finn.

Finn: Want to sneak out? I've got something to show you.

Aurora hesitated for a moment before typing back.

Aurora: What kind of something?

Finn: You'll see. Meet me in 10.

Ten minutes later, Aurora found herself climbing into Finn's truck, the faint smell of rain lingering in the air.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he pulled onto the road.

"You'll see," he said, grinning.

The city blurred past them as they drove, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space between them. Finn's hand rested casually on the gear shift, his fingers tapping to a rhythm only he could hear.

Eventually, they pulled up to an old abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. Aurora gave him a skeptical look as he hopped out and motioned for her to follow.

"You really need to work on selling your ideas better," she said, stepping out of the truck.

"Trust me," Finn said, grabbing a flashlight from the backseat. "You'll love it."

They climbed through a broken window, the flashlight cutting through the darkness. Aurora could hear the distant drip of water somewhere in the building, the sound echoing in the vast emptiness.

"Finn, if this is some weird setup for a horror movie—"

"Relax, Princess," he said, flashing her a grin.

She rolled her eyes but followed him up a narrow staircase to the roof. When they stepped outside, Aurora gasped.

The roof was covered in string lights, their soft glow casting a golden hue over the cracked concrete. A Bluetooth speaker sat in the corner, quietly playing an old R&B song.

Finn turned to her, his expression unreadable. "I figured you could use a distraction."

Aurora blinked, her throat tightening. "You did all this... for me?"

Finn shrugged, looking away. "You've been in your head a lot lately. Thought you might need a break."

Aurora didn't know what to say. No one had ever done something like this for her before.

He held out his hand. "Dance with me."

She hesitated. "Finn—"

"Come on," he said, his voice softer now. "No one's watching. Just you and me."

Aurora took his hand, letting him pull her into the glow of the lights. The music wrapped around them, and for the first time in weeks, Aurora let herself forget everything—Wanda, the showcase, the ache of never quite belonging.

As they swayed together, Finn rested his forehead against hers. "You're going to be okay, Aurora. Whatever happens, you'll figure it out. You always do."

Aurora wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that the cracks in her life didn't have to define her. But a small voice in the back of her mind whispered a warning, a reminder of every time she'd dared to hope.

She closed her eyes, letting the moment wash over her.

But deep down, she knew what was coming.