The Long Game (Joshaya)

Lyceum Theater

*Josh's POV*

How could you have hurt me when you weren't even there?

Her words echo in my head like a broken record, a song stuck on replay. And it wasn't a great song either. Me not being there for her was exactly how I hurt her. I know that she understands; she's a smart girl.

We walk into Time Square and I see Maya looking up at all of the lights and buildings, and then back down at the people passing us by. It's amazing how we're able to create such beautiful things, and yet we miss the simple things in life that pass us by every day. I observe the buildings and lights as well.

"Wow, haven't been here in a while," I say shielding my eyes from the sun.

"Are you ready?" Maya asks, turning towards me. I stare at her wavy blonde hair, which is blowing in the wind and blocking her icy blue eyes from me. My flannel covers her like a blanket and for a second, I see the Maya I knew before I left. But that's not enough, I need to know how she is now. And I know I won't be disappointed.

The dream from last night replays in my head, even though all I saw was darkness. The thought of losing her in this big city made me nervous, so I grab her hand and thread my fingers through hers, holding tight.

"Now I am."

I see her glance down at our hands for a second, like she was trying not to get caught in the act. She looks back up at me and smiles.

"Alright then."

I'm caught by surprise when she pulls me into a run. Everything turns into a blur: the signs, the lights, the people, the cabs. This is probably how most New Yorkers see their lives: a big blur. Maya laughs and looks back at me.

"Having trouble keeping up?"

"No, I'm fine," I say as I begin to run out of breath. We run for a couple minutes until we stop in front of Broadway theater. I'm not sure which one, but I'm sure Maya knows.

"Where are we?"

"Lyceum Theater. This is where Juilliard holds their auditions."

The front of the theater looks more like a courthouse and posters for Wicked are hanging in the windows. I let out a small whistle.

"Can we go inside?" I ask her.

"Yeah, the security guard that works right now knows me," she says as she walks through the front doors. Surprisingly, they're unlocked. Maya walks past the ticket booth and a wall that has all the showtimes, but nothing about Juilliard auditions. When we walk into the auditorium, my eyes widen like a kid in a candy store. There must be over a thousand red velvet seats all surrounding a massive stage. Along the walls are areas that would be reserved for the rich people in the olden days. It felt like I stepped into the 18th century, where people wore powdered wigs and used spectacles.

"Wow, Maya. This place is amazing." I look up and see intricate gold details and swirls against the white and pale blue ceiling.

"I've been coming here every Saturday since last year," she says as she walks down the stairs. "I picture myself on stage, how I'll see the judges from the stage, how the judges will see me." She walks onto the stage and stands on her toes in the middle.

"Maya, don't you think you're overthinking this Juilliard audition a little bit?"

She turns to face me with her mouth in the shape of an O. "Juilliard is not a joke, Josh. You're going up against some of the best in the country, maybe even internationally ranked. I've been focused ballet for years, but I need to bring my A-game. Some of these students have been dancing their entire lives."