Page 35 of One Last Encore

And, much to her dismay, some twisted part of her was glad.

Her post-practice routine was usually non-negotiable: home, shower, sleep. No exceptions. But lately, Beck had managed to wedge himself into her schedule. And she didn’t hate it.

He was funny and infuriating. Thoughtful in ways she didn’t expect. Electric, like a storm just waiting to break, impossible to ignore, impossible to look away from.

And dangerous. Because the more time she spent with him, the harder it became to pretend she didn’t want to.

As they neared the subway stairs, Beck slowed.

"Uptown or downtown?" he asked.

Ingrid met his gaze, her breath faltering slightly under its weight. His denim-blue eyes weren’t just looking; they were tracing every feature like she was something rare, something worth studying. A slow shiver curled through her, not from the cold, but from the realization that no one had ever looked at her like this before. Like she was worth the time it took to remember.

"Uptown," she said softly, her voice quieter than she intended.

"Same." Beck’s grip on her hand remained steady as they descended the subway steps, the rhythmic click of her heels echoing off the tiled walls. He guided her carefully, as if instinctively attuned to her movements.

"You talk a lot of shit about love," he said as they reached the Uptown platform, turning to face her. "But one day, someone’s gonna sweep you off your feet and make you eat every word."

His tone was easy, even teasing, but there was something in his eyes, something more serious that caught her off guard.

For a split second, a strange feeling washed over her. Like he wasn’t talking in hypotheticals at all. Like maybe he meanthimself. She shoved the thought away before it could settle.

"Highly unlikely," Ingrid said with a smirk, looking off down the tracks. "But cute theory."

"We’ll see," Beck said with a small shrug, just as the subway roared into the station. The gust of wind sent his hair into disarray, making him look effortlessly disheveled in a way that was downright rude. No one should look that good after being smacked in the face by public transportation wind.

"I bet you five dollars you will," he added, his tone teasing but his expression holding a flicker of challenge.

"Five dollars? High stakes," she quipped, lips curving in amusement. "You’re on."

"I'm a starving artist," he said with a dramatic sigh. "Five bucks is about all I’ve got."

His grin was self-deprecating but sincere, though Ingrid couldn’t help but notice he had a habit of spending money on her. That overpriced hot chocolate two weeks ago? More than five bucks. The movie ticket? Definitely more than five bucks.

She never really thought about money. She had savings, didn’t pay her own rent, and generally floated through life without budgeting-induced panic. But Beck? He clearly did. She could tell he was careful with money, except, apparently, when it came to her.

The subway screeched on the rails before shuddering to a stop in front of them. The doors slid open with a mechanical hiss..

"When I’m old and gray and still tragically single, how exactly am I collecting my five dollars?" Ingrid mused as she pulled him into the subway car, her hand still tucked in his jacket pocket with his. He hadn’t let go. And, if she was being honest, she wasn’t in a hurry to, either.

"You won’t have to," Beck said, his voice carrying an easy certainty that sent a shiver up her spine.

"You’re kind of stuck with me now." His shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, but his eyes never left hers..

"You barely know me," Ingrid countered with a laugh, but there was an edge of something nervous in her voice.

"I know enough," Beck replied, his lips curving into a slow, conspiratorial smile.

"Great. I’ve acquired a stalker," she muttered dryly as the subway doors slid shut, sealing them inside the dimly lit car.

"Is it stalking, or is it fate?" Beck teased, tilting his head. "I think the universe is trying to bring us together. First, the Battle of the Bands, then the same class..." He spread his free hand as if presenting undeniable evidence. "I’m just a pawn in this grand game of life."

Ingrid found herself caught in the magnetic pull of his smile. It was annoyingly charming, the kind of smile that disarmed all coherent thought before she even had the chance to fight it.

And then the subway lurched forward.

Completely unprepared, she stumbled, colliding straight into Beck’s chest, her foot landing squarely on his foot. A surprised laugh escaped her lips as heat rushed to her cheeks. She had lived in New York City for twenty-one years, taken the subway more times than she could count. She never stumbled.Ever. Yet here she was, defying both muscle memory and basic physics.

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