Page 74 of One Last Encore

She scoffed, but okay… maybe a little. Their rehearsals had become a ridiculous balancing act between fine-tuning their performance and Beck being an absolute flirt. She should have been annoyed. Instead, she found herself entertained. And a little bit turned on.

He stood from his drum kit, closing the distance between them in three easy strides.

"Focus," she teased, pressing a hand against his face to stop him from getting any closer.

He simply leaned into her palm, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. "I can’t when you’re around," he admitted, voice dropping to a low murmur.

Since that day at the café, something between them had shifted. Now, being with him felt real and surprisingly easy. Lighter than she ever expected. There was something freeing about it, something she hadn’t even known she needed. Every day with him felt like peeling back old layers, making space for something new to grow.

Leaning in, he rested his forehead against hers. "I can’t look away when you’re dancing. I can play drums in my sleep, but you… the way you move. It’s like you were born for this. Every time I watch you, it’s like something inside me tears open."

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t help but smile. She rubbed her nose against his, her heart fluttering like it had grown wings.

"I know the feeling," she whispered, her voice sincere.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, and she felt the gentle tug of his smile against her cheek.

Suddenly, the doorknob of the studio jiggled, and the moment shattered as a group of freshman students burst in, their laughter and chatter filling the space.Damn freshmen.

"Oh. Uh. Sorry. We have this room booked?" one of them said, blinking at them like they’d just stumbled into the middle of a rom-com and weren’t sure if they should start clapping.

Beck exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "Damn it. Foiled by the youth."

Ingrid bit back a laugh. "Guess the bendy thing will have to wait."

Beck smirked, leaning in just enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath. "Yeah, but for the record, I still think it’s a brilliant idea."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at her lips. "Come on, Pretty Boy. Let’s go."

As she packed up, slipping out of her pointe shoes and into her boots, Beck slid an arm around her waist.

"You think I’m pretty?" he asked, grinning.

"The prettiest. But don’t let it go to your head," she muttered, but her smile gave her away.

He slung his drum bag over his shoulder. "Too late."

Before heading out, he turned to the group, gave them a mock salute, and said, "All yours, youngsters. Hope your beats are sick and your schedules better coordinated than ours."

Then he reached for Ingrid’s hand, lacing their fingers together as they stepped into the hallway.

The past few weeks had been a blur–rehearsals, late nights, and quick moments snatched from their crazy schedules. And since Halloween, she’d started to notice something else: Beck didn’t drink when they were together. He never said anything about it, never made a big deal. But she noticed.

Still, Ingrid couldn’t help wondering about the nights they weren’t together. Sometimes he’d mention hanging out with Finn and Reef, playing late gigs to make some extra cash. And then there were the texts: sent well past midnight, full of typos, their usual banter just a little off in a way that made her think maybe he’d been drinking. It wasn’t really her place to say anything. But still… she worried.

As they stepped outside, the cold air bit at her cheeks, sharp enough to steal her breath for a second. The city was alive in its usual way, a blur of glowing headlights, distant honking, and the rhythmic click of hurried footsteps against the pavement.

"Do you want to come over and meet my cat?" Ingrid asked, as casually as she could manage.

They had spent so much time together already, but he’d never seen her apartment. He’d never met Freddie. It was a small thing, but it felt like opening another door between them, one with claws behind it.

"Sure, I’d love to meet Freddie," he said, smiling. Brave soul.

But this was Freddie they were talking about. Freddie, who had hissed at the maintenance guy for fixing the radiator during nap time, threatened the mail carrier for knocking too loudly, and nearly ended the career of a poor pizza guy who made the fatal error of making eye contact.

"I hope she’s in a good mood," Ingrid muttered under her breath.

He raised an eyebrow. "Should I bring treats, a peace offering, or just draft a will?"

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