Mrs. Kingston's hand on my elbow is the only reason I don't walk into the Christmas tree backdrop.
“Your mark, dear,” she whispers, steering me three steps stage left.
Right. My mark. The spot I hit just fine last night. Except this time, I'm too busy watching Evan across the stage to remember where my feet are supposed to go.
The tailcoat should be illegal. The precise cut of the shoulders. The way he moves—effortless.
Evan catches my eye. That smile. The real one.
I miss the next cue. Mrs. Kingston guides me to my mark with her gentle hand on my elbow. Again.
* * *
Backstage after the party scene ends, Emma intercepts me.
“Okay, what was that?”
“What was what?” I'm adjusting props that don't need adjusting.
“You missed two blocking cues. I watched you stop moving and stare.”
“I was?—”
“Holly.” Emma's grinning. “I'm happy for you. Truly. But maybe save the heart-eyes for after the show?”
Heat floods my face. “I don't have heart-eyes.”
“Sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
She disappears before I can respond.
* * *
EVAN
Intermission hits, and the backstage area floods with people. Parents checking on kids, dancers heading for water, Mrs. Kowalski calling out reminders for Act II.
Josh appears. “Can you show us now? The tap thing?”
“Show you what?”
“You said you used to tap dance. Can you teach us?”
“I don't know if?—”
“Please? Mrs. Kowalski said it's fine.”
Mrs. Kowalski nods from across the backstage area.
“Well, okay then. Find some space.”
Josh scrambles to clear an area. A few other kids drift over, curious.
“The most basic step is called a time step,” I begin. “It's rhythm. You're making music with your feet.”
I demonstrate—stomp, step, step, stomp—and the movement comes back. Muscle memory.
The kids try to follow. Josh gets it almost immediately.
