A Word of Praise
Chapter 50

Kiara woke up Monday morning with the emotional hangover of the century. She was tired of not being able to do anything, so she decided to go to practice anyway, even with her hands out of commission. If she couldn't do what she wanted in Chris' department, she'd at least work her frustration out with a sick series of abs and legs.

When she got to the studio, she ran into Michael's glowing figure. Literally. The man was covered in glitter from head to toe, and it was fucking Monday.

"What the hell did you do last night?" She asked in disbelief.

"I'm coming from Heaven, baby girl." He paused for dramatic purposes. "You know, that new club downtown."

"I don't know, and probably don't want to." She rolled her eyes, knowing that if she gave the slightest opening, he'd tell her all the places she'd replace glitter if she searched. "What are you doing here?" It was unusual for him to visit the studio, especially on a hungover Monday morning.

"Chris needed me here."

"What?" She shrieked with her heart on her throat.

"Jeez, chill out. Christine. Short, brunette, sickening neck tattoo... ring a bell?" Right, Christine. Kiara really needed to get her shit together. "Now, on to more pressing matters... what are you doing here instead of sitting on the face of your beloved?" "Not my beloved," she retorted.

"Not my point, Kia. Why do you look like you lost your golden ticket when not two days ago I saw you licking the incarnation of the chocolate factory itself?"

"It didn't work out."

"What did you do?"

"Why does it have to be me? Maybe he fucked up."

"Baby girl, I watched you sabotage your last three prospect relationships before they even started," he said in a caring tone, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Now spill it".

"There's not much to say. We're too different."

"I'm not gonna sit here and watch you lie to me, bitch," he complained, crossing his arms.

"You're not sitting," she mumbled under her breath.

"Your sarcastic ass won't keep me from asking questions. Why are you pushing him away?"

"Stop making a drama out of it. I had fun, but it wouldn't work out anyway. I told you already, he's a loaded prick."

"For cock's sake Kiara, will you drop the rich-is-garbage act?" Michael threw his hands in the air and raised his voice, obviously to annoy her further because of her drama complaint.

"It's not an act, it's the truth," she whispered, looking around to see if anyone was staring.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it when you were eating lobster and lamb on his island."

"I never had a problem with luxury, just the people behind it."

"And yet, you never told me why."

Kiara fidgeted with the bandages on her hands, suddenly uncomfortable with the topic. She should have told Michael. She had no reason not to, it's not as if he'd... leave. She swallowed hard, hating that train of thought. Instead, she decided to give Michael something else to appease his curiosity.

"He said he loved me."

"Holy shit! And you didn't thank him with your sword swallowing abilities?"

Kiara punched his arm but laughed. She quite vividly remembered when both of them took a summer course on the practice, and Michael kept suggesting the side benefits of it.

"Alright, I've had enough 'Michael' for today. I came here to practice, and you are keeping me from it." She began to walk away, but a couple of steps into her grand exit, she heard his voice again.

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"Stop pushing people away because you think they'll leave you first, Kiara. He might not, you know."

She didn't stop walking, but her chest tightened at his words. Why did she keep doing it? In a moment of self-reflection, Kiara thought back to all her years in therapy where she thoroughly unfolded the reasons for her derealization episodes. She knew what she was doing, but it didn't mean she could fight it. What if he, too, left? The thought kept popping up even though she knew it wasn't the same. Her parents didn't leave her. They fucking died. But even during therapy, she couldn't quite separate the two.

The crunches and squats were doing little to ease her mind, but she knew better than to try the aerials with her burned hands. So she kept going, trying to run away from the sadness that lingered in the back of her mind.

All the excuses she could think of to push him away were so thin, she could break them with less effort than it took for her to climb the silks. Michael was right, she should really drop her years-old habit of loathing the rich. They were not all the same. He was not like the scumbag murderer...

"Hey Kiara, want to grab some lunch with us?" Someone asked from across the room, luckily interrupting her troubling thoughts.

***

The week went by in a blur, and Kiara's only way of knowing the time was passing was the improvement of her hand. Since she couldn't perform, all days seemed to merge like a big mess of bad eating and irregular sleeping. When Saturday came along, she was seriously considering creating a routine that didn't require her palms. Not having at least a minor show to perform was killing her.

She was halfway through a chocolate-chip pint when the buzzer rang. Did she order takeout? Or was that the day before? "Hello?"

"Kiara, it's me." Chris?

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Batman was missing you. Can you come down?" As if on cue, she heard a muffled bark coming from the faulty buzzer. "Shit," she cursed and thought about it for a while. Batman was there, how could she say no? "Fine, I'll be down in five."

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Fuck, fuck, fuck. While Kiara was changing into decent clothes and a pair of sneakers, she thought about what the hell he could possibly want from her. Ok, maybe she knew what he wanted. But why did he keep pushing it when she refused so many times? Maybe he liked the chase.

By the time she got downstairs, most of the random thoughts were replaced by the enthusiastic meeting of soulmates. Batman and her, obviously. The dog was on a leash, but it didn't stop him from pulling forward and meeting her halfway for a session of weird hugs and licks.

"Kiara?" Chris's voice was amused, as it always was when she and Batman were involved. She came to expect how he'd playfully interrupt their PDA before she found herself rolling on the sidewalk with the giant dog.

"Hi," she stated firmly, standing up and deciding in a split second that she wouldn't shy away from the conflict. She might be confused, but that didn't mean she'd play the clueless girl in front of him. "How's your hand?"

"Much better." She had discarded the bandages already to allow the area to breathe now that the risk of complications had passed.

"I'm glad."

"How's your family?" she asked, suddenly aware of how incredibly selfish she had been to run away from him after he opened his heart to her. "They'll live. But that's not why I'm here."

"What do you want?" She asked honestly. Standing in front of him under those piercing brown eyes was messing with her resolve not to lick his face. Shit, get a grip, Kiara.

"I told you, Batman was missing you," he smirked, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, he's been howling non-stop this week. I was wondering if I could bring him here on Saturdays so he could see you."

She was taken aback by his question. She was absolutely sure he'd try to sweet talk his way into a date or something. Well, he was. But not in the way she thought he would.

"What is your goal, business boy? I know there's a deal behind that suggestion." She wouldn't be accepting anything if he didn't tell her exactly what his long-term game was.

"I want Batman to be happy." Judging by what she'd seen of the two of them so far, it was actually plausible. The man would do anything for his dog. "But I also plan on making you mine on the way."