Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 29

After roaming the streets of Little Italy for half an hour, I decide that the odor of pasta sauce and gleam of romantic lights aren't all they're cracked up to be.

In fact, as I pad down Mulberry Street, past stocky red-bricked buildings and restaurants with names I can't pronounce, I'm glad to find a black awning bearing the number 163. It's written in gold.

Below the awning sits an outdoor patio. It's filled to the brim with customers, and beside it is a stairwell, leading to what I can only assume are the apartments above. Before I might regret it, and more importantly, before one more dish of bolognese greets my nose, I venture down the shadow-engulfed steps.

Cool hits my skin, but soon enough I'm passing through a black-framed screen door and walking down a hallway, plain aside from its expected Italian scent. My feet beat at the creaky wooden floor lightly but quickly, and I take a deep, grounding breath.

I stalled in coming here, circling this street like a hawk for an embarrassingly long amount of time. I must've passed this block four times before actually turning down it, and now the scent of Italian cuisine has ingrained itself in my memory as food for terrorists. So much for that restaurant Maven and I went to this weekend.

Though it was a decision altogether to come here tonight. I was nearly late to technique because of the Scarlet Street Fighters, staring at my brother's handwriting for far too long while I stomached down the rest of my cereal. From all the letters Shade's sent to my family, there was no doubt it was written by him, stalky and jotted handwriting and all, but . . . it was just a time and a place. So unfeeling, so militant for my brother. No miss you, sis or even a see you soon. That was what put me on edge, had me staring and pondering for the longest time.

That, in the end, was what convinced me to board the subway and see my brother at last.

I still think I'm insane for telling Will what I did.

My exhausted legs, courtesy of the ruthless and brilliant Rane Arven, trudge up the stairs at the hallway's end. The new hall is narrow but modern with pretty blue carpet and sconces lining the walls, a far cry from the barrenness of downstairs. I imagine this building was a tenement a hundred years ago, having since been converted to something livable with air conditioning and an Italian restaurant.

The moment I see him, I'll applaud Shade for moving up so high in the world.

Practically holding my breath, I pass by a white-painted door baring the number five. I pull the bill of my cap further over my forehead as I approach number six, my little piece of scarlet paper crumpling in my hand from anticipation.

And even though my mind goes blank of things to say, I rap my knuckles on Apartment 6 three times, just as Cal did to my door last night.

My spine goes straight, and my hands fold together behind my back. I stare at the door, and the world seems to go quiet following those knocks.

The peephole mocks me, though I don't bother with seeing what I can spot through it. Instead, I focus my energy on staying composed, keeping my face blank and bored. I wish I could know if it works.

I don't know what I'm walking into. Who and what I'll find on the other side of this unpresuming apartment door beats me, and I'm still not sure if I want to find out. But I'm here anyway, despite chance after chance of walking away from this blameless, from Will's store to the note this morning.

Only a door separates me from them, while two hallways, two staircases, a door, and one long walk back to the subway keep me from the Academy.

The door opens on smooth hinges, but I don't move. I barely blink.