Page 22 of One Last Encore

That’s where Eden had come in. Eden, who had been more than a best friend, she had been a constant. A sister in every way that mattered. The one who saw Ingrid, who never let her disappear into the background. Through every late-night breakdown, every punishing rejection, every moment of self-doubt that had left her questioning whether she was enough, Eden had been there.

"I get that," Ingrid admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "Ballet’s my escape too. It’s a way to drown everything out and disappear into something else. Even if it’s only for a few minutes."

Beck’s gaze lingered on her, dark and knowing, like he understood in a way most people never did. "Guess we both found our own ways to survive," he murmured.

The air between them shifted, thickening into something heavier, and she hated it. She didn’t want to see herself in him. Didn’t want to acknowledge the sudden, unwanted connection threading between them.

Before it could get too uncomfortable, Beck stretched his arms out, breaking the moment with an exaggerated sigh. "I’m who I am because of everything that happened to me," hesaid. "It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but hey, here I am. Practicing with a prima ballerina who’s slowly, and I meanslowly, warming up to me."

A grin tugged at his lips, his eyes sparkling. "She won’t admit it, but she actually likes hanging out with me."

Ingrid scoffed, relieved to hear his usual arrogance back. "Delusion really doesn’t suit you."

Beck’s smirk stretched even wider. "You sure? I think I pull it off pretty well."

“Also, I’m not a prima." The words tasted bitter the second they left her mouth, a reminder that she still hadn’t heard back about Swan Lake.

"Yet," he corrected, pointing a drumstick at her like some kind of self-appointed oracle. "I’m speaking it into existence."

She gave him a flat look. "That’s not how auditions work."

"Manifestation," he said, wiggling his fingers in an exaggerated gesture.

She exhaled sharply. "Do that again, and I swear I’ll snap your drumsticks in half."

"Noted," he said. "No jazz hands for the ballerina. Got it."

Her lips twitched before she could stop them. Damn it. She was not about to start finding him funny.

Before she could force her expression back into something unimpressed, her phone buzzed from across the room. Her stomach flipped. Any minute now, the cast list was supposed to drop.

Her heart pounded as she sprinted to her bag, yanking her phone out with shaky fingers. The screen lit up with a text from Sylvia.

Sylvia: YOU GOT IT!! You’re PRIMA! Not shocked at all, but still HELL YES. Tchaikovsky is 100% fist-bumping a ghost right now. CONGRATS!

The words blurred. For a moment, Ingrid forgot how to breathe. Then the realization hit her like a lightning strike. Oh my God. She got it. The lead in Swan Lake.

A strangled noise left her throat–part gasp, part laugh, part dolphin screech. She clutched the phone to her chest, barely able to process the fact that the role she had dreamed of for years was now hers.

Behind her, Beck raised an eyebrow. "What happened? Did Barney’s announce a flash sale?"

She barely registered the question, bouncing on the balls of her feet as an electric thrill shot through her limbs. She needed to move, to do something to keep from exploding.

"I knew it," Beck said, watching her with an infuriating amount of satisfaction. "Didn’t I tell you?" His smirk softened, something genuine flickering in his eyes. "Congratulations, prima."

Still grinning, she narrowed her eyes at him. "How did you know?"

"The unholy screeching. The hyperactive jogging. It was a dead giveaway." Then he shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world."Why act like you didn’t know you’d get the lead? You’re perfect."

A beat of silence.

He blinked, suddenly realizing what he’d just said. "I mean you were perfect. When you were dancing." He immediately rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly uncomfortable. "That’s what I meant. Obviously."

Ingrid arched a brow, savoring the rare sight of Beck fumbling over his own words. "Oh? So I’m not perfect now?"

His gaze flicked to hers, dark and unreadable. Then, slow as a drumroll, he tilted his head.

"Well, yeah…" His voice dropped just slightly. "Lookat you."

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