The Failed Audition (Circus Is Family #1)

by Krista Ritchie

“Nikolai used to be Team Scott,” Katya tells me,

“I liked him at the beginning too, with Rose, but it almost seemed forced at times. I mean, they rarely stood even two feet near each other.” “I know, it was weird. I always thought she had more chemistry with Connor.”

“Who’s your favorite?” I ask her as the show switches to a series of commercials. “Of all the Calloway sisters and their men?” I expect her to say Ryke Meadows or Loren Hale—the two most popular guys of the bunch. One is overly protective, the other in complete I-would-die-for-you love with his childhood friend. “Easy.” She eats a scoop of ice cream before saying, “Rose Calloway.”

YES GIRL

“Rose?” I think I prefer Lily Calloway, the one who’s a bit shy, but in the face of so much publicity, so many warring voices, she’s stood strong in the end. It’s bravery that I think I need.

“Rose is always so well-dressed and put-together. And she’s smart.” Katya shrugs. “When she speaks, everyone listens. You know, when the show first aired, I’...

“What would Rose do in my situation?” Katya’s smile fades. And I think we’re both mulling over the same answer: she’d choose to be on her own. Be independent. And try, stubbornly, to succeed without help. Without han...

“Rose doesn’t always do the right thing,” Katya points out. “She makes mistakes too.” I think about how the one-and-only season of Princesses of Philly ended, my eyes growing big. “This is true.”

“Can you at least pretend to be full of remorse and regret?” This would be so much easier. “No. A devil protects his demon.”

He kisses my cheek and whispers soft Russian words that bathe my skin in heat. I turn them over in my mind, clinging onto what sounds like: Vot moe serce. And then others…that I can’t uncover. I tilt my chin up, silently asking. He repeats the Russian words, so deeply, but refuses to translate this time. It’s enough as it is. Whatever the meaning, it leaves me sweltering.

you think I’m gonna wait around for Nik to tell us what that means? no I looked it up myself and it means “here is my heart” 🥹😭

“I did not sign up to drink in the pits of hell,” John grumbles as he plops on the barstool next to me. He wipes his sweaty forehead with his arm and wafts his black shirt away from his chest. I raise my brows at him. “Don’t give me that look.” “You’re in a club called The Red Death. You don’t think what you just said was a little ironic?” “Everything I say has a level of unamusing irony. It’s just the way it is. And unfortunately I have to live with myself longer than you do.”

“What about you? You’re being paid to suffocate. If I don’t get free booze, there’s no reason I should stay.” I lift my drink. “Comradery.” His eyes narrow at my tequila sunrise. “Is that free?” I see his eyes say: You call that comradery? I suck the straw and bat my eyelashes innocently. “Bad day.” John swivels back to his cousin. And very seriously says, “I’ve had the most tragic Saturday—” “You consider every day a tragic one,” she cuts him off. “Nice try.”

I turn to my left, to John. His dark brown hair dampens and sticks to his forehead. With his surly expression, you’d think a flock of birds just shit on his head. I can’t help it—I laugh. Really hard. It’s honestly like a raincloud has sprung and decided to trickle on his head. Ironic, yes. John latches his surly gaze on me and flashes an ill-humored smile. “What are you laughing about? I’m not the one wearing white.”

While he swigs his beer, John stands, an inch taller than Timo, and smoothly slides behind him. I’ve never seen Timo tense before. But he does, especially as John rests his hands on the counter, on either side of Timo, essentially caging him in. Damn. It’s hot. It’s even hotter when Timo turns his head, just slightly, to look at John. And John stares down like you deserve better than middle-aged, pot-belly bastards.

Camila has her fingers to her smile, watching them like me. John’s hand falls to Timo’s waist, and he takes another step towards the bar, Timo’s chest pressing against the counter’s lip and John’s pelvis up against Timo’s ass. Okay, I’ve never seen Timo so flushed. John whispers in his ear, and there’s no way I can make out the words from the pop song and spray of water.

Nikolai once told me that he couldn’t remember a time where Timo didn’t know who he was. No questioning. No doubt. But he said it didn’t make it easier. Timo charged at life. But life wasn’t always ready for him.

I’m not as envious as I used to be. I’m more satisfied with who I am. Thora James: a series of fails but she’ll stand up again. I can most definitely live with that.

Nikolai ignores them, his intensity all mine. He approaches the burly employee, and they switch glow necklaces. When Nik returns to me, he has a green one. “Awwww,” girls in the crowd actually make that noise, rooting for us. His gaze never leaves me as he snaps the new necklace around my collar. “There’s no confusion anymore, myshka.”

His breath warms my ear. And he whispers, “I choose you.”

“One day. I will. Even if it takes me years.” Years? It sounds like I’m assuming we’ll be together for that long. I open my mouth to clarify my slip, but he speaks first. “Even if it takes you forever,” he rephrases, his eyes bearing on my heart.

“Are you ready?” He means for the handstand competition. But beneath his words there is so much more. Am I ready for a life with him? “Yes.” I nod, without hesitation. “I’m more than ready.”

If he could, he’d accompany his brother through every minor and major wreck of his life. But he can’t. Timo will fall whether or not Nikolai is there. But he has so many people that’ll help him stand back up if he struggles. That’s what matters.

“Why are you so patient with me?” I whisper. “Because every part of me wants to take care of you.” One of his hands drifts to the back of my neck, the other beneath my wet shirt, around my hip. “And to do that, I’d slow down to your speed.”

I look away. And that’s when I catch someone watching us. A girl at the bar. Long legs and arms and pale skin. Katya’s round, globe eyes fix right on me. This is her favorite diner, so of course she’s here. Concern reflects in her gray irises, empathy for me.

“You’re an adult, Thora. You can do whatever you want. We just want you to be safe and to help you choose right.” To help me choose right. But what happens if their choices don’t align with mine? Moving against them is worse than moving against the grain. It’s like trying to stop a wave from breaking.

A sob rips my chest open. And that’s when I feel the seat undulate, someone scooting next to me. I lower one hand and see Katya, her cheeks splotched red like she’s been crying. I turn my head, and I see Luka across from me, his gaze just as bloodshot. But he smiles weakly, as though reminding me that I have people who care about me in this city—who are here for me.

I love Nikolai’s family 😭

I never thought I’d make a mark on someone’s life. I never thought people could love me that way. I’m average. Ordinary. But I’m beginning to realize something… We all traverse in and out of people’s worlds, leaving footprints. Some larger, some smaller, but there is always a mark. We can’t sweep it away.

His beautiful gray gaze is reddened but hard, determined, assured. Confident. Powerful. As though he has faith in me. As though his belief will carry me further than their doubt.

“There are so many people in this world afraid to do what you’ve done. They’ll wait around hoping that something will make it easier—a stable job, a friend in the city, any extra security. When it doesn’t happen, they spend the rest of their lives without their passion, wondering what could have been. Don’t latch onto their fear. Not now.”

“The things greater than us, Thora, they’re not impossible. It’s just fear talking, telling you that you can’t when you can. I know you can.”

Love. It’s a strong word, but I’m not sure what else to call this. It’s greater than just like. It’s more powerful than friendship. If I’m not falling in love with him, then I’m missing the definition of the level right below it. Sort-of-love. Almost-love. Maybe-one-day-love.

“I’d help you every day so that you could see a better tomorrow. I will never give you less than that.”

I brought a Ken doll into a Polly Pocket house. I’m a Polly Pocket playing with a Ken doll. This is…not right.

He cups my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. “Your eyes are black, myshka.”

“I’m going to fit inside of you,” he says lowly, his voice masculine and deep, filling a silent, small room.

He’s made me appreciate myself more, love myself more, and as a result, I’ve come to see him as more than just a great athlete, a charismatic performer.

Nikolai Kotova is the sum of his brothers and sister. And more. He is selfless, loyal, dedicated and wholly determined—the most responsible twenty-six-year-old, the most mature man. He is power and strength. But most importantly, he is love. And family.

He kisses me again, his hand warming the back of my neck. “Whatever happens, just know that the parts of my life ...

He’s… There are no perfect words for what I feel. For what I see. It’s staring at a Michelangelo painting and being intimate with the subject beneath the brush strokes. It’s falling to your knees and looking up at a god, who belongs to you.

I never thought that love could be this difficult. Once you have it—that should be it. No more hardships. No more confusion. But clarity hasn’t struck me yet.

“You consider everyone the bane of your existence.” “Because everyone is horrible,” he refutes. “I have many banes.”

There are questions that always sit on the tip of my tongue, but I struggle to let them out. Not knowing the perfect time. Not knowing the perfect way to ask. I’m not good with words.

“I couldn’t explain, for the longest time, why I wanted you near me,” he says. “I knew I was attracted to you, but it was more than that. Your energy, your idealism and optimism—I missed those things, the places inside of me that made me feel more alive. And for years, I only sought them out on Saturday nights.” Performing. During his after-show. His one time to let go and be free. “And I realized,” he says lowly, “you are my Saturday nights. Being with you makes me come alive all over again.”

Nikolai spelled it out. If I’m with him, I’m not in the circus. If I’m in the circus, I’m not with him. Either way, I lose.

I guess we’re all just conveniently forgetting that Nikolai’s aerial silks partner was fired and Thora could just do that act with him since silks is her favorite but sure

I don’t want to picture Nikolai right now, but all I see is me leaving him. He’s altered the landscape of my aspirations, and it’s not as sunny when he’s not in it.

These are the horrifying facts that keep berating me: I spent seven months in Vegas. Away from family. Pushing my body to its limitations. Stepping outside my comfort zone. Struggling to support myself. I tried. I tried so hard. And then Shay flew here. One day. One time. And he made it.

for real, BOOOOOO 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻

“Let’s tell them how you should be in Amour. How you know the aerial silk routine.”

“I don’t…” I don’t know that routine. “I don’t know that routine.”

“You’ve never seen it performed. So how would you know if...

“Thora,” he says lowly, “I taught you that routine. For months, I’ve been teaching it to you.”

“No…” My voice cracks again. “No, you didn’t do that.” I shake my head again and again and again. “I did,” he refutes, his emotions welling to the surface, his features as brutal as mine. “Why would you…?” It doesn’t make sense. “Because I wanted you to be my partner.”