Chapter 18: Hot and Cold

	An hour later, Yume sat alone at their table, nursing the glass of 
Long Island Iced Tea she had ordered -- one of the few non-alcoholic drinks 
she found on the menu. She had no idea what was in it, but it was definitely 
unlike any tea she had ever tasted, which was saying something, since she 
considered herself a bit of a tea connoisseur. She wasn’t sure if she cared 
for it or not.

	The others were all out on the dance floor, everybody dancing with 
their respective partners, minus Mikhail, who Yume had lost track of among 
the many clubbers. The last she saw him, he had been sitting at the bar, 
ordering a drink, but his stool had since been taken over by a dark-haired 
man who was trying unsuccessfully to hit on Pilar’s sister, Mercedes.

	Not that Yume was keeping tabs on him.

	But why hadn’t he asked her to dance yet? She sighed and took 
another sip of her drink. It wasn’t that she really wanted to dance -- when 
it came to dancing on anything other than ice, she had a pair of two left 
feet -- but it would have been nice if Mikhail had at least offered. Weren’t 
they friends now? Maybe he’s a terrible dancer, too, Yume thought. She 
hadn’t seen him dancing with anybody else, after all. Mostly just drinking.	

	“Hey, why aren’t you dancing?” a French-accented voice asked, 
startling Yume from her thoughts.

	She glanced to her right, surprised when Dominique took a seat in 
the chair next to her.

	“Nobody has asked me,” Yume said with a shrug of her shoulders. 
Noticing that Dominique‘s partner -- and date for the night -- wasn‘t with 
her, she asked, “Where’s Sebastien?”

	“Getting us some drinks.” Dominique nodded in the direction of the 
bar, where Sebastien was chatting with a handsome bartender, and smirked. “I 
have a feeling I may have just lost my date, though.”

	“Oh, sorry.” It looked like Sergei was right about Sebastien’s 
preferences, after all.

	She flipped her blonde ponytail over her shoulder dismissively. 
“Don’t be. It wasn‘t like that. Besides, there are plenty of other good-
looking guys here to choose from,” she said, scanning the crowd for her next 
dance partner. “I have to admit, I’m having more fun than I thought I would. 
It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this, so… thanks, I guess.” 

	Yume arched an eyebrow. “Why are you thanking me? I thought you only 
came because Sebastien asked you to be his date,” she reminded her.

	“Actually, it’s more like I forced him to be my date.” Sitting back 
in her chair, Dominique crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, Yume, I’m 
not really into the whole ‘friendship’ thing. It’s not my style, so don’t 
expect me to become one of your little group. After everything that’s 
happened, I doubt I would be welcomed anyway.”

	“That’s not tr--” But then Yume thought of Pilar, who had never hid 
her dislike of Dominique, and of Becca, Zoe’s overprotective best friend, 
and knew it was true. Even if the others were willing to forgive and forget, 
those two would probably never accept her as a friend. 

	“There’s just too much bad blood,” Dominique said. “It doesn’t 
matter.”

	“I’m sorry,” Yume found herself saying, but the Dominique shook her 
head.

	“You’re not the one who needs to apologize. That’s supposed to be my 
line.” She sat forward in her chair, taking a deep breath before continuing. 
“I’m only going to say this once, but I’m sorry for the way I treated you 
and that contortionist. The truth is, you were right. The reason why I 
wanted to be Mikhail’s partner so badly was so that I could prove to myself 
that the titles I had won with my brother weren’t a lie. The fact that a 
novice like you was chosen over me… Well, it just didn’t seem fair. I really 
did believe you used your sister’s connections to somehow rig the 
competition in your favor.”

	“But I didn’t.”

	“I know that now. You beat me fair and square, and now I realize I 
just wasn’t good enough.” When Yume started to object, she held up a hand. 
“Don’t try to placate me, Yume. We both know it’s true. You do possess 
something that I don’t. I saw it the first time I saw you skate at the 
auditions; I was just too stubborn to acknowledge it due to your lack of 
technical skills.” Again, Dominique sat back, clutching her hands into tight 
fists. “I intend to keep working on my weaknesses, though, and someday, I 
will get the true acknowledgment I desire,” she vowed. “Just wait and see.”

	“I hope you do,” Yume said sincerely.


	By that time, Pilar and Sergei returned to the table, sliding back 
into the booth. Pilar shot Dominique a dirty look, which the French skater 
reciprocated before pushing back her chair and standing up. “If Sebastien 
ever manages to pull himself away from that bartender and comes back with 
our drinks, tell him I’ve found a hotter dance partner,” Dominique said 
mostly to Yume and Sergei before heading back out onto the dance floor. 

	The second she disappeared into the throng of dancers, Pilar turned 
her attention to Yume. “What were you two being so buddy-buddy about?” she 
asked, sounding almost betrayed.

	“Dominique was just apologizing for the way she acted toward me and 
Zoe,” Yume said.

	“Yeah, right, and pigs can fly.” Pilar scoffed and took a sip of her 
cosmopolitan. “No, seriously, what did she want with you?”

	“I told you. She apologized for spreading all those rumors.”

	“Come on. You’re not pulling our legs?”

	Yume wasn’t quite familiar with that phrase, but she could guess the 
meaning from the context. “It’s the truth.”

	“Well, I guess miracles really do happen,” Pilar said. “Enough about 
her, though. You should go dance! We’ve been here for over an hour, and I 
have yet to see you hit the dance floor.”

	“Somebody has to stay and watch the table,” Yume said, indicating 
the purses and drinks the others had left behind.

	“We’re here now,” Sergei pointed out. “We can look after things for 
a while, so you should get out there.” 

	“No, really, I’m fine just sitting here…”

	Pilar rolled her eyes. “Nobody comes to a club just to sit around, 
Yume! You have to dance a least a little.”

	“But I’m not a very good dancer,” she protested. “Besides, I don’t 
have a dance partner.”

	“Then go find one. That guy sitting over at the bar is pretty cute,” 
Pilar said, referring to the dark-haired man Yume had seen flirting with 
Mercedes earlier. He was now looking over in their direction, and Pilar gave 
him a seductive smile over her shoulder. “In fact, if you don’t take him, I 
might just make a move myself.”

	Yume shook her head, having no interest in dancing with some random 
stranger. “Take him if you want; he’s yours.”

	“Then how about we take a spin?” Sergei suggested, standing up and 
holding out his hand to her.

	“Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea!” Pilar exclaimed, clapping her hands 
together. “Let Sergei teach you a few steps. He used to do a little ice 
dancing, so he’s got the moves. He even managed to teach me a thing or two.” 

	“Well…” Yume was fast running out of excuses to decline.

	“Go on, he won’t bite, now will you, Sergei?”

	“I will be on my very best behavior,” he promised, placing his hand 
over his heart. “So, may I have this dance?”

	Reluctantly, knowing that Pilar would not take “no” for an answer, 
Yume took Sergei’s hand and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor 
with the others. “I’m really not that great of a dancer,” Yume warned Sergei 
as the music changed to a salsa number.

	“Don’t worry,” he said. “This isn’t a competition. Just listen to 
the music, follow my lead, and most importantly, have fun.”

	Yume felt incredibly self-conscious when they first began dancing, 
but, as Pilar had promised, Sergei was a great teacher. They stuck to basic 
steps that even she could do without messing up too badly, and, to her 
surprise, Yume actually began to enjoy herself.

	“See? You aren’t so bad,” he said, dipping her. “You just needed a 
little bit of instruction, that’s all.” 

	Yume smiled, looking up at him. “I guess so.”

	Just then, somebody tapped Sergei on the shoulder, asking him a 
question in a language that Yume did not recognize, although she suspected 
Russian. Sergei nodded, and pulling her back up from the dip, he kissed the 
back of her hand. “Thank you for the dance, Yume,” he said before giving her 
hand to a blond-haired man she knew very well and leaving to go find another 
partner.

	“Misha?” she breathed, her heartbeat racing for reasons Yume couldn't
quite understand.

	Mikhail didn’t say a word as he pulled her toward him, wrapping her 
arms around his neck and placing his hands on her hips. The music had 
changed again, this time to a slower number that oozed sensuality. Yume 
wasn’t very familiar with the different kinds of dance rhythms, other than 
what she had picked up from watching the occasional ice dance pair over the 
years, but she suspected it might be a rumba, known as the sexiest of the 
traditional Latin ballroom dances.

	Of course, Yume had no idea how to dance a rumba. Unable to look 
Mikhail in the eye, she glanced around at the other couples surrounding them 
for inspiration and blushed at some of the sensual moves being performed by 
the more accomplished dancers. Pilar and her dark-haired partner, who had 
joined the throng of dancers, were an especially seductive pair, looking as 
if they were ready to rip each others’ clothes off right in the middle of 
the dance floor, no matter who happened to be watching. Yume knew she would 
never be comfortable doing those kinds of moves in public, so she loosened 
her grip around Mikhail’s neck, intending to head back to the table.

	Mikhail, however, pulled her even closer to him, refusing to let her 
leave. “Dance with me, Yume,” he whispered in her ear. His words were 
slightly slurred, and Yume could smell the alcohol on his breath.

	“I-I don’t know this dance,” she confessed, though it seemed like 
her body thought otherwise, her hips moving as if they had a mind of their 
own.

	“It doesn’t matter. Dance with me.”

	Yume had no idea what had gotten into Mikhail. He wasn’t acting like 
himself. It must have been the alcohol talking; that was the only 
explanation for his uncharacteristic behavior. Nevertheless, Yume made no 
movement to pull away, feeling a strange sort of connection between them, 
one that was different from what she felt when they skated together on the 
ice.

	On the ice, Mikhail was always the consummate technician. Every move 
he made, from his magnificent jumps to even the placement of his fingertips, 
was precise and meticulous. Cold, but perfect, as to be expected by the man 
known to the skating world as the Ice Prince.

	On the dance floor, however, he threw all technique out the window. 
Mikhail had some natural talent as dancer -- Yume could tell by the way he 
moved his body -- yet he was loose, uninhibited in his movements. For once, 
it actually seemed like he was enjoying himself, instead of merely 
concentrating on being perfect.

	To Yume, it was an unexpected, but welcome, change. She found 
herself following his lead, ignoring the fact that they weren’t exactly 
dancing a proper rumba. She let her body take full control, giving herself 
over to whatever it was happening between them.

	When the song was over, Yume felt as if she had just finished 
running a five mile marathon. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and she 
had to consciously remind herself to breath normally as Mikhail continued 
holding her against his body even as the next song, another fast-paced dance 
track, began playing. Though Yume had to admit it felt rather nice in his 
arms, she didn’t want people, especially Pilar, to get the wrong idea.

	“Uh, Mis--”

	“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” Mikhail unexpectedly asked, 
interrupting her. He finally loosened his embrace around her, taking one of 
her hands instead.

	“What?” At first, Yume thought she had misheard him over the volume 
of the music, which was almost deafening.

	“You aren‘t having that great a time, are you? I noticed how bored 
you were earlier, sitting at the table by yourself.”

	“This isn‘t my kind of place,” she admitted. “I only came because 
Pilar really wanted to go clubbing.” 

	“Then let’s go somewhere else. Get some fresh air.”

	The idea was tempting, as she really hadn’t been enjoying herself 
much, but… “We can’t leave. It’s Clarissa’s birthday,” Yume reminded him.

	“Just tell her you had a little too much to drink and aren’t feeling 
well, so I’m taking you back to the dorms.” 

	“But I’ve barely drunk anything at all, except for the tequila shot 
when Pilar made Clarissa‘s birthday toast.”

	He raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you just drinking a Long Island Iced 
Tea?”

	“Yeah, but that’s just tea…right?”

	Mikhail let out one of his rare laughs. “You really don’t go to many 
bars, do you? Long Island Iced Tea is an alcoholic beverage made up of 
mostly vodka, gin, tequila, and rum. I‘m surprised you didn‘t realize.”

	“It did taste strange,” she said, “but since the bartender didn’t 
ask for my ID, I thought it was okay.”

	“He probably didn’t ask because he thought you were hot. Anyway, 
come on, let’s go,” Mikhail said, starting to pull Yume toward the entrance.

	“Wait, we have to tell somebody where we’re going.” Yume looked 
around for one of the other girls. The birthday girl was nowhere in sight 
and Pilar was busy making out with her dance partner in a dark corner of the 
room, but Elizaveta and Dmitri were back at their table, taking a break from 
the dancing. “Look, there’s Liza and Dmitri. We’ll tell them we’re leaving, 
and then we can go.”

	Mikhail shrugged and began leading her back to the table.

	“Hey, Dmitri, Yume and I are going to take off,” he said when they 
had reached them. “She’s not feeling well, so I’m taking her back to the 
dorms. Will you tell the others?”

	“What?” Elizaveta looked up at Yume, concerned. “Yume, are you 
okay?”

	Though she hated the idea of lying to her friends, Yume stuck to 
Mikhail’s suggestion of a cover story. “It’s nothing serious,” she assured 
Elizaveta. “I think I just had a little too much to drink, that‘s all. I‘ll 
be fine.”

	“I didn’t realize you were drinking.”

	“Apparently, neither did I.” Yume looked over at her half-empty 
glass of Long Island Iced Tea that was still sitting on the table where she 
had left it and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, tell Clarissa that we’re sorry for 
leaving early and that we hope she has a happy birthday.”

	“Sure,” Elizaveta agreed, though still looking a bit confused. “See 
you tomorrow.”

	With that finally out of the way, Mikhail casually wrapped an arm 
around Yume’s waist and led her once again toward the entrance. Yume felt 
her cheeks warm at what she considered a rather intimate gesture. What is 
going on with him tonight? she wondered. It was almost as if Mikhail was a 
completely different person. Or, she thought, maybe this was actually the 
real Mikhail, the one she always suspected he kept hidden underneath the 
cold exterior he usually showed her.

	“Where are we going?” she asked as Mikhail flagged them down a cab 
in front of the club.

	He brought a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret,” he said, holding 
the back door of the taxi open for her. “Hop in.”

	Intrigued, Yume slid into the cab, and Mikhail got in on the other 
side, behind the driver, whispering something in the cabbie’s ear that she 
couldn’t quite hear. The cabbie nodded his understanding, and then they were 
off.

*****

	Fifteen minutes later, Yume looked out the window of the taxi, 
surprised to see the bright, nighttime lights of Kaleido Stage’s main tent. 
She knew Mikhail had told Elizaveta and Dmitri that he was taking her back 
to the dorms, but she didn’t think he had actually meant it. Had he 
suggested they leave so they could practice? But Yume didn’t think Mikhail 
was in any condition to be on the ice. He wasn’t one of those overly clumsy, 
uncoordinated drunks that she often saw on TV and in movies, but he was 
intoxicated, and booze and skating did not seem like the best combination. 
Even Yume, who had only had the tequila shot and half a glass of Long Island 
Iced tea, felt too buzzed to be confident about her skating abilities in 
such a state.

	“Kaleido Stage?” she asked, turning to look at Mikhail, who was 
sitting beside her, a relaxed smile on his face. Though she rarely had the 
chance to see it, Yume had to admit he had a great smile. He really should 
show it more often.

	“Disappointed?”

	Yume shook her head. “No, just surprised. I thought you had 
somewhere else in mind. You were being so mysterious about where we were 
going…”

	“Just wait a few minutes,” he said as the cabbie pulled up in front 
of Kaleido Stage. Mikhail pulled out some cash from his wallet and paid him, 
then got out of the taxi, going over to the other side to open Yume’s door. 
“We haven’t reached the final destination.”

	Now Yume was really curious, and even more so when instead of 
heading inside like she expected, Mikhail began leading her by the hand 
somewhere else entirely. “Misha, where are we going?” she asked again.

	“We’re almost there. Close your eyes.”

	“I don‘t thi--”

	“Don’t worry. I’ll warn you of any obstacles in the way.”

	Not wanting to ruin the good mood he was in, Yume humored him and 
closed her eyes. Mikhail then led her for about a quarter of a mile before 
placing her hand on what felt like a rusty stair rail. “We’re going down a 
set of steps,” he warned her as promised. “I’m right here beside you, but be 
careful.”

	Yume nodded and carefully took the first step down. She was 
beginning to suspect where Mikhail was taking her. There was the 
unmistakable smell and taste of saltwater in the air, and she could hear 
waves crashing against the shore.

	Sure enough, as she took the last step, her Christian Louboutin 
high-heeled sandals sunk into soft and lumpy ground, something grainy 
sifting between her exposed toes. Sand.

	“Can I open my eyes now?” she asked. “I know we’re on the beach.” 

	Mikhail chuckled. “Yes, go ahead and open them.”	

	“Oh, wow!”

	Yume had never visited the beach at night before. It was quite a 
breath-taking sight. What must have been at least a thousand stars glittered 
against the dark sky, and the moon’s silvery glow illuminated the water just 
enough so that she could see ebb of waves moving in the Pacific Ocean.

	“Do you like it?”

	Yume looked over at him, her eyes wide in amazement. “Like it? It’s 
beautiful!”

	“I come out here almost every night after dinner,” he confessed, 
plopping down in the sand just a few feet away from where the waves hit the 
shore. “I’m afraid we already missed the most beautiful part, though.”

	“What do you mean?” Yume asked, sitting down beside him and drawing 
her knees up to her chest. At the moment, she couldn’t imagine anything more 
stunning than the sight in front of them.

	“Twilight, the time just after the sunset.” He glanced over at her. 
“Have you ever heard of ‘white nights’, Yume?”

	Yume shook her head. “What are they?”

	“In St. Petersburg, where I’m from, that’s what we call the 
phenomenon that occurs right around this time of year, when twilight lasts 
all night long,” Mikhail explained, a wistful look on his face as he leaned 
back on his elbows and looked up at the sky. “We even have a huge festival 
that lasts for weeks just to celebrate it. Tania and I --” He abruptly 
stopped in mid-sentence and sighed. “Well, it was something I used to look 
forward to,” he amended.

	Not knowing what to say, Yume said nothing in response, getting the 
feeling he‘d rather not talk about it anymore. How unusual, though, for him 
to tell her something so personal. Come to think of it, she barely knew 
anything about him at all off the ice. This was the first time they had 
really interacted on a truly personal level.

	“Do you miss it?” Yume asked after a few minutes had passed without 
either one of them saying anything. “Russia, I mean?”

	Mikhail sat back up. “Sometimes,” he said hesitantly, as if unsure 
he wanted to continue their conversation. “The weather is nicer here, but I 
do miss my family.”

	“Your family?”

	Again, a pause before answering. “My father left the family when I 
was six, so it’s just been me, my mother, and Ekaterina…Katia.”

	Yume recalled the pretty teenager in the photograph beside his bed. 
“Your sister?”

	“She’s three years younger than me. Beautiful dancer. Katia has 
always dreamed of joining the Bolshoi Ballet, and she just got accepted at 
their school.”

	“Wow.” Yume knew very little about ballet, but the way Elizaveta 
talked about the Bolshoi -- always in the same reverential tone Yume used 
when talking about Sora -- she knew they were one of the best, if not the 
best, ballet companies in the world. “That’s amazing.”

	“Yeah.” Mikhail regained a little of his smile. “It is.” Turning to 
look over at Yume, he asked, “What about your family? Should Kalos expect a 
third Naegino sister to turn up and take Kaleido Stage by storm?”

	Yume blushed, glad that it was dark enough that Mikhail couldn’t see 
the redness of her cheeks. “No, Sora and I are it for the Naegino family, 
although Sora’s daughter Hana is already talking about wanting to be a 
trampoline artist like Marion,” she said with a chuckle. “Actually, 
technically speaking, Sora and I aren’t even sisters -- at least, not by 
blood.”

	“You’re not?”

	She shook her head. “Sora is adopted. Our dads were cousins, and 
when her parents were killed in a car accident when she was little, my 
parents took her in and raised her as if she was their own, since they 
thought they would never have a biological child,” Yume explained. “I was 
their miracle baby, I suppose you could say. That’s why there’s such a huge 
age difference between Sora and me. We’re as close as any sisters could be, 
though. Sora’s my idol and inspiration.” 

	“Yet you’re a figure skater, not a trapeze artist.”

	It wasn’t really a question, but Yume answered it as if it was. 
“There was a time I thought I wanted to be a trapeze artist like Sora,” she 
said, laying back on the sand, hands resting behind her head. “I actually 
started practicing gymnastics first, but there was just something about the 
ice… It was like there was this magnetic pull or something, an indescribable 
force I can’t really name.”

	Mikhail laid down on the sand as well, rolling on his side with his 
head propped up so that he was looking down at her. “Destiny?” he guessed.

	Yume shrugged. “Yeah, something like that, I guess.” She looked up 
at him. “What about you? Why did you choose to skate? Did you feel like it 
was your destiny, too?”

	A bit of the usual Mikhail appeared on his face, causing him to lose 
some of his mellowness. “I don’t believe in destiny,” he said simply, 
without elaboration.

	“Oh.”

	It was obvious that Mikhail didn’t want to continue talking about 
the topic any longer. Yume sighed, regretting she had brought the subject up 
in the first place, and turned her attention to the stars above them. It was 
hard to believe that anybody could look up at the beautiful night sky and 
not know that something grand like destiny existed. Then again, she had 
never put much stock in such things either until Fool came in her life, with 
his claim that she was “destined for the stage”.

	“Hey, Yume?”

	Mikhail’s unexpectedly tender voice startled Yume from her thoughts.

	“Hmm?” she murmured, surprised to discover that Mikhail had moved 
closer to her, his hand resting flat on her stomach and his face so close to 
hers, she could smell the vodka on his breath.

	“Have I told you how absolutely beautiful you look tonight?” he 
asked, his hand moving up from her abdomen to caress her cheek.

	Yume sucked in a breath. “Misha?”

	Before she had the chance to process what was happening, Mikhail’s 
lips were on hers, insistent, yet gentle. It took little prodding on his 
part for Yume to respond in kind. His hand once again moved down to her 
stomach, touching bare skin as he pushed up Yume’s halter top, and her 
fingers threaded through his hair, the blond strands as soft as silk.

	Yume’s mind went blank, her eyes closed. She moved completely on 
instinct. It was as if somebody else had taken control of her body,

	“Misha…” she involuntarily moaned when his lips left hers to travel 
down her jaw line, begging them to return.

	The sound of his name, however, seemed to break whatever spell had 
come over him. Mikhail abruptly stopped what he was doing, jumping up so 
fast that Yume barely opened her eyes in time to see. 

	“Misha?”

	He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not even offering to help her 
up from where she lay on the sand. Confused by what had just happened 
between them, Yume stood up and reached for Mikhail’s arm. He shrugged it 
away.

	“Let’s go,” he said in his more familiar gruff tone, already heading 
back toward the stairs.

	“Go where?” Yume asked. She remained standing in place, hugging 
herself. Without Mikhail’s body heat beside her, she became acutely aware of 
the slight chill in the sea breeze, even in the summer.

	He stopped, but did not turn around. “It’s late, and I promised your 
friend that I would escort you back to your dorm room.” 

	Yume glanced down at her watch, which said it was only a little 
after ten, and frowned. “It’s not that late. Weekend curfew is midnight. 
Pilar and the others probably aren’t even back yet.”

	“It’s late enough,” he said, and again started walking toward the 
sea wall stairs. 

	“Misha!” Yume jogged to catch up to him, grabbing him by the arm. “I 
don’t understand. I thought we were having a nice time. Did I do something 
to ups--” 

	“Look, Yume, I’m not feeling well, okay? I had too much to drink 
tonight, and it’s finally catching up to me. I just want to get back to my 
room and go to bed. You can stay here if you want, but I’m leaving.”

	Without Mikhail, there was little point in staying on the beach by 
herself. Yume reluctantly followed him back up the sea wall and back to the 
dorms, neither of them saying a word, although she was dying to ask him why 
he had kissed her and what it had meant. Did he like her in that way? Or was 
it simply the vodka that had influenced him to do it? She didn’t dare to ask 
him, though, too embarrassed by her inexperience in such matters to put the 
questions into words. 

	When they finally reached her dorm room, Yume dug in her purse for 
her keys and unlocked the door. Mikhail was still quiet, not even looking at 
her. Yume briefly considered inviting him in for a glass of water as a thank 
you for walking her back home, but she decided against it, afraid it would 
make things even more awkward between them than they already were.

	“So, um, thanks for walking me back, and, uh, showing me the beach,” 
Yume said, feeling the need to at least say something. “I had a, well --” 
She wanted to say “a good time,” but it didn’t seem like quite the 
appropriate thing to say when she didn’t even know how Mikhail really felt 
about her. If the kiss meant nothing to him, as Yume suspected based on how 
he acted afterwards, she didn’t want to give him the impression that she 
expected something more, especially since she herself didn’t even know what 
to think about it. “Well, anyway, good night, and I guess I’ll see you 
tomorrow at the show announcement.”

	“Yeah, tomorrow.”

	With those two words, Mikhail pivoted around and headed back to the 
boys‘ dormitories. Yume sighed and closed the door behind her after entering 
her dorm.

	“Hey, you’re back early,” Fool remarked as Yume took off her shoes 
and began dusting off the sand that had gotten on them. “Sand? I thought you 
guys were going to a dance club, not the beach.”

	“Slight detour on the way back,” she said, leaving the explanation 
at that. 

	Of course, Fool wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “Wasn’t that a 
male voice I heard outside? Why didn’t you come home with the other girls?”

	“I’d rather not talk about it, Fool, okay?” Yume muttered, walking 
to her bedroom. “I just want to go to sleep and pretend tonight never 
happened.”


DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.