CREATURE

・chapter 42・

It took barely more than a glance to let Asya know that the dancer across the room was none other than Maksim Novgorodsky himself. A top-ranked principal dancer with the Bolshoi and a heartthrob to many a young ballerina, Maksim was a living legend as far as ballet personalities went both in and outside Russia.

She watched, unblinking, as he shook hands with Roman and said something that vaguely sounded like a greeting. Maksim was a titan of industry, known for his technical proficiency and larger-than-life stage presence, and had a decorated career with the Bolshoi to show for it. What swept him into the arms of mainstream fame, however, was a documentary about his early days as a principal dancer navigating company politics and the pressures of being a performing artist. The documentary won several awards and gained critical acclaim for its intimate portrayal of life in the Russian ballet, and since then, Maksim had far transcended the confines of ballet stardom and done work in both film and television alike.

Despite what most would've assumed, however, it wasn't Maksim's sheer recognizability that had Asya easily able to pick out his dark blond hair and strong features from where they were sitting across the room. No, that was because he'd become a familiar face a few days prior when a certain verified Instagram account started following her.

She'd been sat on her livingroom couch with Julian one evening, and after showing him the notification to make sure she wasn't hallucinating, her best friend practically wet his pants with excitement. They'd collectively gone on a humiliatingly long scroll down his socials, and even with her insisting that the account was probably run by a management team and not Maksim himself, it felt a little surreal knowing that he was aware of her existence at all.

She'd written it off as a coincidence, or perhaps a stroke of algorithmic luck, but that was before he turned up in all his glory at the Royal Opera House for a last minute guesting. Thanks to the fact that she was spending her nights having dinner with a former Bolshoi principal dancer, she was well-aware of the whole guest artist fiasco and that Roman had gotten saddled with making some calls to find a replacement for James. She didn't know who she'd expected him to invite, but god knows only Roman would be able to get a name like Maksim Novogorodsky to London on New Year's Eve with such short notice.

She knew she was staring, and that Julian probably looked even more ridiculous than she did, but good god it was Maksim Novgorodsky. He was the balletic equivalent of an A-lister or a pop star, quite possibly both, and evidently, she wasn't above being a little starstruck. She watched as he fell into conversation with Roman like the two were old friends, and began warming up.

'Incoming.' Julian whispered from next to her, jerking his head in the direction of the swing doors.

Surprisingly early going by his usual habits, Ivan had come trudging in for company class. And, despite desperately trying to look like he was busy with his phone, was nervously glancing around the room like a man with a target on his back. She couldn't help but wonder if his skittish demeanour had something to do with the still-fading bruise on his jaw, and if it did, Ivan had every reason to be paranoid.

'I'm not dealing with him this early.' she groaned to Julian, crouching in front of the wall mirror to touch up her lip gloss.

With a final pout she smoothed out the fabric of her leotard, feeling decidedly pleased with herself for opting to dress up a little that morning on the off chance that she got cleared to dance. Her big comeback felt like an occasion enough to debut the pretty light grey leotard she'd bought a few weeks prior, which she'd paired with a pair of trackpants to keep the finicky hip snug.

'You better run.' Julian cooed.

'On it.' she grinned, spinning on heel to make for the two Bolshoi principals on the other side of the room. So much for uneventful, she said to herself. She slid up to Roman's side, folding her arms over her chest. If there was one place Ivan wouldn't dare bother her, it was next to him.