Charice adjusted her script. "Ready to catch you when you trip over your own feet, maybe."
"That was one time!"
"It was three times. In the same rehearsal."
"Your radiant beauty distracted me."
She snorted. "More like your own reflection in the store window."
Despite their technical flaws, their genuine affection made me lean forward. They had brilliant stage chemistry. Jack took each line further over the top until they both dissolved into laughter.
"Cut!" Mrs. Brubaker tried to sound stern. "Jack, maybe dial back the passion about ten percent?"
"But how else will I convey the depths of my feels?"
"Your what?" Charice dissolved into fresh giggles.
"My feels! Sam in pediatrics says it all the time."
"Sam is seven."
"And clearly very wise for his age."
An involuntary smile tugged at my lips. No one here was marking performances for critique or waiting to step into someone else's role. They were merely... playing.
Then it happened.
A metallic clang as one of Ben's window pieces slipped, threatening to take out several others in a domino effect.
Ben moved fast, but he wasn't going to make it.
Years of dance training kicked in. I launched from my seat, sliding across the stage, catching the falling piece while Ben steadied the main structure. We froze—his arm braced above mine, and my back pressed against his chest, both of us breathing hard.
The stage lights flared bright as sunlight before settling into a warm, golden glow.
"Nice catch." His voice rumbled through me. "Dancer?"
"Technically still a dancer." I managed to keep my voice steady despite our bodies touching and the warmth spreading from every point of contact. "I'm only taking a break."
"Some break." His breath stirred my hair. "That was a perfect stage slide."
I stepped back, trying to regain my professional distance, but I was quickly failing.
"The mounting bracket needs reinforcement." I pointed to where metal met wood, desperate for something practical to focus on. "The vibration from scene changes will work it loose again."
"Show me?"
Before I could retreat to a safe distance, we were deep in discussion about weight distribution and sight lines. Ben's knowledge of structural engineering complemented my understanding of stage movement perfectly. When he smiled, that dimple appeared.
A crash from the parade scene saved me. The cast had attempted a complex crossing pattern, which turned into a traffic jam of colliding bodies.
"If you offset the timing—" The words escaped before I could stop them. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"No, please." Mrs. Brubaker waved me forward. "What were you going to say?"
Every eye in the theater focused on me. My breath caught. What if I froze? What if the panic that had destroyed me in front of thePhantomcasting directors came roaring back here, in front of these people?
Ben's presence at my shoulder steadied me. "You were saying about the timing?"
