Thatevening,I'minmy room at the pack house trying to focus on my Voice homework when my phone buzzes.
Ben:Hey. Found the perfect monologue for Løvborg auditions. It's from Angels in America—the 'I wish I was an octopus' speech. Thoughts?
I smile despite myself, pulling up the scene on my laptop to refresh my memory.
Me:That's actually perfect. Fits the whole 'can't escape your past' theme. What about me? I'm thinking Nina's final speech from The Seagull.
Ben:The one about endurance? About bearing your cross and having faith even when everything's falling apart?
Me:That's the one.
Ben:Yeah. That tracks.
The conversation pauses, and the three dots indicate he's typing, stopping, typing again.
Ben:Can I ask you something?
Me:Depends on the question.
Ben:In Movement class today, when Cruz had us doing impulse work? Your body language was... let's say your body doesn't lie, even when your words do.
Heat floods my face.
Me:What's that supposed to mean?
Ben:It means I see you, Vespera. The whole you. Not the careful version you show the pack, or the professional version you show professors. I see who you are when you forget to control it.
Ben:And someday you're going to stop being so careful. And when you do, I'll be here.
I stare at the messages, my heart pounding. Three floors below, Dorian's voice, talking to Oakley about something. The sounds of the pack house settling in for the evening. My life. My bonds. My cage.
I don't respond to Ben's text. Don't know how to respond when he's right and it terrifies me.
Eventually, my phone screen goes dark, and I lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow I'll see him in Movement class. We'll do impulse work, and my body will betray me again. Then coffee, where we'll pretend we're friends preparing for auditions. Then Scene Study, where Wells will make us explore vulnerability and desire with professional justification.
And the pack will watch it all happen, feeling every shift of my interest through bonds I never asked for.
I'm trapped between two worlds—the one I'm bound to, and the one I want. And I have no idea which one will win.
But I know which one makes me feel like Vespera.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
thirty-one
Vespera
It'spastmidnightwhenBen texts me.
Ben:Still up? Need to run lines for tomorrow's scene study. Partner bailed.
I should say no. Should tell him it's too late, that I'm tired, that practicing alone in the theater building at midnight is a terrible idea.
Me:Studio 3C. Give me 20 minutes.
I'm an idiot.
