Page 125 of One Last Encore

Sylvia didn’t respond, just started aggressively brushing croissant crumbs off her plate, pretending to be completelyabsorbed in the task. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," she muttered.

Ingrid barely had time to process before Sylvia, without a single ounce of shame, called out: "Beck? Is that you?"

Ingrid nearly knocked over her coffee. "Are you kidding me?" she whisper-yelled.

Beck’s deep voice drifted over from behind her. "Sylvia?"

Sylvia beamed. "The one and only. Wow, blast from the past. What are you doing here?"

Ingrid closed her eyes. She counted to three and resisted the urge to commit a mildly justified felony.

"Ingrid didn’t tell you?" Beck asked, clearly entertained.

"Nope," Sylvia said breezily, flipping her hair like they were discussing the weather. "You’re not exactly a trending topic in our group chat."

Ingrid bit the inside of her cheek so hard she nearly drew blood, fighting back a laugh. That lie slid out smoother than a late-night jazz solo.

Beck laughed. "Sounds about right."

"Well, I’m sure you two have lots to talk about!" Sylvia said brightly, pulling Ingrid into a hug that felt suspiciously like sabotage.

Ingrid shot her a sharp look, whispering, "You’re throwing me under the bus!"

"Just tuck and roll, babe," Sylvia whispered with a grin. Then she let go of Ingrid, gave Beck a quick hug, and practically skipped out of the coffee shop like she hadn’t just dropped a conversational grenade in Ingrid’s lap.

And just like that, Ingrid was alone with Beck. Ingrid shifted, rubbing her hands over her pants, acutely aware of the weight of Beck’s gaze.

He stood in front of her, effortlessly handsome, a beanie snug on his head and a wool jacket framing his broad shoulders. Thecafé’s lighting caught in his blue eyes, making them gleam in a way that was just plain rude. It was unfortunate how gorgeous he was.

"So," Beck said, tilting his head. "You don’t talk about me much, huh?"

Ingrid crossed her arms, arching a brow. "Not at all. Barely a blip on my radar."

Beck’s lips quirked. "Huh. But still a blip."

Ingrid ignored the way her heart tripped over itself as she stood, slipping into her coat.

"I was just heading back to the apartment," she said, hoping her voice sounded calm and not like she was actively short-circuiting from the inside out.

"I’ll walk you, " Beck said, his voice warm and low, sending butterflies tumbling through her stomach.

Outside, the air was crisp, their breaths curling into soft clouds. The scent of coming snow hung in the air, clean and sharp, while droplets of ice clung to the bare branches, glittering under the dimming sun. It tugged at her memory, winter walks from another life, when everything had felt easier. Not because it truly was, but because youth had a way of softening the truth.

Beck chatted about his music students, hands moving in big gestures through the cold air.

"Those kids remind me why I started in the first place. Why I love drumming," he said, grinning.

That grin, unguarded and so completely him, landed like both a punch and a hug. He looked lighter now. Happier. More at peace in his own skin than she had ever seen him. It was beautiful. And it hurt like hell.

When the conversation turned to her upcoming performance, Beck surprised her, he already knew about Swan Lake.

"You knew I was dancing Swan Lake?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

Beck smirked. "You think I wouldn’t keep up?"

She tried to sound composed as she dove into an update about rehearsals. The grueling hours, the company’s buzz, the pressure mounting with each run-through. She left out the part where her legs shook after solos, or how she lay awake at night wondering if she could really pull it off.

But Beck didn’t pry. He just listened, all calm intensity, like he still had that superpower of making her feel like the rest of the world had quietly stepped out for a coffee.

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