“Keep your core tight, Yesoh,” Madame said, her sharp eyes tracking my every move.
“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered, swallowing back the urge to roll my shoulders.
I landed my last pirouette and lowered into a perfect finish, my breath catching as applause broke out around the room. It was mostly from Remi who was sitting in the corner tying her shoes.
“You’re showing off,” she teased with a grin.
“Says the girl who performed a full grand jeté during warm-ups,” I shot back, walking over to grab my water bottle.
Before she could respond, the faint buzz of my phone in my bag caught my attention. I wiped my hands on my towel and pulled it out, frowning at the name flashing across the screen.
Wynter Kwon.
“Wynter?” Remi whispered dramatically. “Why is he calling during class? Does he know no one disturbs the divine art of ballet?”
“Shut up,” I whispered back, my heart doing an annoying little skip.
“Answer it! I want to hear his paddington bear ass accent,” she whispered again, not so quietly this time.
Rolling my eyes, I stepped into the hallway and pressed accept, my voice purposefully nonchalant. “What do you want, Kwon?”
There was a pause, then his warm, deep voice came through the line. “Good afternoon to you too, Soh.”
I smiled despite myself, leaning against the wall. “You’re interrupting practice.”
“Am I? Because you answered,” he countered, amusement coloring his tone.
“Maybe I was hoping it was someone more interesting,” I quipped.
“Ouch,” he said with mock offense. “If I wasn’t in a good mood, that would hurt.”
“And whyareyou in such a good mood?”
“Because I’m talking to you,” he said smoothly, and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was grinning.
I rolled my eyes again, but my cheeks betrayed me by warming. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“Annoying but effective,” he replied. “Did I mention you look great in pointe shoes?”
“Unless you have cameras around me, last I checked You’re not here, Wynter.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
“What’s with the silence?” Wynter asked, his voice breaking my focus. “Are you imagining me in tights again?”
“What?” I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.
“You heard me,” he said, clearly pleased with himself.
“Firstly it’s not like I ever have to imagine you in tights I see you in them every other day, and I could Google it right now.” I explained, “secondly You’re lucky I don’t hang up on you.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he challenged, his tone low and teasing.
I bit my lip, my smile threatening to give me away. “You have no idea what I’d do. Are you done being silly or is there a point to this call?”
“Actually, girlfriend. there is.” His voice shifted, turning softer. “My dad’s flying in from Nottingham for the holidays. With Beck.”
“Really?” I straightened, caught off guard. “To New York?”
