Lily

Nina had been dead for four days.

Again.

There hadn't been a funeral last time, or rather, she was sure there had been, but she hadn't been there to attend. She hadn't even known about it until Nina had come to the island and then left again, leaving Lily behind to watch that film.

There was a funeral this time. For awhile, she'd thought about avoiding it, but it was the artistic director at the company who'd convinced her to go. Think of how it'll look if you don't. You two danced together all the time, you were friends. People know that. It made her sick. That was what Nina's funeral would amount to in the eyes of the public, in the eyes of the media.

But she'd gone anyway. She'd sat in the front row, the one normally reserved for family, but there was no family here. She'd asked Delta not to come with her and she wasn't sure why, but she knew he was waiting for her at her apartment and after a very short appearance at the wake, she'd walked home. Two reporters had tried to get a statement from her, but the look she'd given each of them had silenced them, at least for the time being, though she could sense them still following her.

She suspected they would follow her all the way home. That they might let an hour or two pass before they began buzzing her apartment.

She almost wanted them to. She wanted to let them up, she wanted to open her door and have them ask their heartless questions and she wanted see what Delta might do to them. It wasn't a fair thought and she wanted it all the same.

When she let herself into her apartment and closed the door, she only stood there for a moment, her back pressed to the door.

Nina had been dead for four days and it wasn't the first time.

The gala had been a bit of a bore.

Lily was used to it, mingling with investors, the people who essentially paid for her to be a dancer, and she was usually good at it. Even tonight, she doubted anyone noticed that she was bored, but it had gone on long and all the champagne in the world couldn't make it end any quicker. She passed by Nina several times, pausing long enough to talk to her, to laugh about something that had been said, but she knew it was encouraged for them to be as social as possible and so she moved on after a few minutes.

It was something she was good at, even at her worst, and Lily smiled and laughed as she knew she was supposed to.

Between conversations, she set down her champagne flute and slipped toward the bathroom, her purse in hand. Raising her hand as she passed Nina, she grinned, then slipped through the bathroom door, glancing down into her purse for her compact as she crossed toward the mirror. Her heels clicked against the tile floor and when she glanced up, at first it seemed that nothing was wrong.

But the bathroom was gone.

Beyond the mirror she had glanced into stretched a long, golden hall and Lily shifted, moving away from the mirror to stare at what had appeared. She blinked, then turned back toward the bathroom door only to find it gone, replaced with a beautiful hall, the walls adorned with art she'd never seen before, rich looking and lush.

"What the hell?" she murmured.

She wasn't nervous, necessarily, but it had been a long time since Lily had been on a date. She went out and she danced, she had dinner with people she loved, spent time with people she slept with, but all the while -- even with Sawyer, she realized -- she'd never allowed anything to be called a date. It was easier that way. If she never called it a date, no one ever thought they were dating and while Lily definitely wasn't adverse to spending time with the same person over weeks or months or even years, she hadn't had a boyfriend or a girlfriend in a very long time and she mostly preferred it that way.

It made things easier.

But something about Delta was different. She doubted he'd ever assume they were dating without first making sure and although he still seemed to be finding his footing, Lily was sure if she explained things to him, he'd follow them easily.

So she wasn't nervous, but she also wasn't entirely sure what she was doing.

Given that it was her first date in a long time -- and his first date ever, according to him -- she'd made sure to keep things simple. She was dressed in jeans, a pair of black boots and a dark sweater under her jacket when she arrived at his place to pick him up. Pressing the buzzer at the front door, she waited, hands in her pockets, for him to answer.