Page 185 of The Bittersweet Bond

Bellamy

Bro.

Bas

She’s ignoring me…

Bellamy

Can you blame her?

Bas

No. But it can’t stay like this.

Bellamy

Talking has never been your problem.

Bas

It’s different with her… I’m different with her.

Bellamy

I’d help, but she’s not even talking to Milka.

Bas

I know…

Bellamy

Santa Barbara’s small.

You’ll run into each other sooner or later.

And when you do

you’ll figure it out.

Bas

From your lips to God’s ears.

__________

Evin

Evin stood at the edge of the stage, her slippers brushing against the rough surface designed to give her and the other dancers extra grip. The vastness of the space swallowed every breath, and the silence between her coach’s commands felt overwhelming. No mirror to reassure her that her posture was correct, no familiar rhythm to guide her through the routine—just her, the empty auditorium, and the endless stretch of the stage.

Her hands drifted nervously over the light rehearsal dress, the thin fabric clinging to her skin where sweat had already begun to form. Her thoughts buzzed like a swarm of bees—loud, chaotic, always circling back to the same things. Bas. The Valentine's Day that never happened. The mess she couldn’t shake, no matter how hard she tried.

“Evin!” Mrs. Wagner’s sharp voice sliced through the air like a blade. Evin flinched, her shoulders jerking upward before she forced herself to stand straight. “You look like a leaf in the wind. Get yourself together, or we’re wasting our time.”

A nod. Barely more than a reflex. Her throat was dry, but no words came.

At the center of the stage stood Rafael—the perfect dancer. His posture was textbook, his gaze calm and unwavering. When he looked at her, there was no impatience in his eyes, only that unshakably professional expression that sometimes irritated her more than it should have.

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