Page 21 of Knot For A Moment

I knew there was no way to tell a scent match from an image alone. In spite of that, I felt something when I looked at her.

Blowing out a breath, I put my phone away. As tempted as I was to go down the trail of learning everything about this beautiful Omega, I wanted to knowherand not what other people said about her.

Too many people made decisions about me before they knew me. I wouldn’t do the same.

Opening my sketchbook up again, I spread it out on the workbench. Something clicked in my head, a problem I hadn’t quite been able to solve about the sculpture I was designing. Not a full idea, but getting there. Suddenly, my sketching felt easy, and that little pinprick of hope grew brighter.

CHAPTER SEVEN

________

SLOANE

The hot tea in my hand wasn’t nearly enough to help the sleep clinging to my eyes. But I would suffer through it. I knew firsthand what getting addicted to coffee this early in the season would do to me. And given that this week was already going to be painful, I wasn’t going to sign up for caffeine withdrawals voluntarily.

Not to mention coffee sometimes made me jittery, and I was already plenty jittery because of what I knew was about to happen.

After I left Petra, I picked up some ice bags, went back to my apartment, and prepped my shoes for today before refreshing myself on my notes forGiselleand going through some of the more difficult sequences at a lower intensity.

This show was going to be a delicate balance between pushing my body to do everything it possibly could and making sure I could still walk.

I shook my head. Realistically, this was a mistake. During a normal season we rehearsed a show for at least a month before opening. I didn’t really appreciate being pressed into something so… challenging. No one had said anything yet, but my guess was others felt the same.

Ian knew what he was doing, and it would be fine once we got the hang of it. But it felt like getting shoved from a horse-drawn carriage onto a high-speed train. Theonlyreason this would work was because we’d staged it before, and most of the company was the same.

I glanced around the plaza. No sign of Asher’s motorcycle. Yet, at least. I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder and reached the door a few seconds after some girls from the corps.

The rehearsal breakdown was already on the bulletin board, people walking by and finding which studio they would go to. The corps would work with the staffrépétiteurrésand the principals would be working with Ian.

But first, class.

Class happened every day. It was our way to center and warm ourselves up. Review technique and prepare for whatever was ahead of us during the rehearsal day. And though it wasn’t a rule, people usually stayed in the spot they picked the first day of the season.

I made my way to the corner, sipping my tea before stretching a bit and getting my shoes on. Dion dropped his bag dramatically and bent over to touch his toes. “Feeling better?”

“Yes and no,” I mumbled. “Guess we’ll see what happens today.”

One thing I knew for sure. Asher West wouldn’t let this simmer between us. He’d never been one to beat around the bush, and I doubted our time apart had changed that. Once it was settled—whichever way it went—we could figure the rest out.

I blew out a breath in relief. Strange that it made me feel better, but it did. The inevitability of us crashing together was so much simpler than feeling like everything was up in the air. Because it was a sure thing.

Dion smirked. “I don’t know what that thought was, but keep thinkingthat.”

A laugh burst out of me. “Why?”

“Because that’s the first time you’ve actually fucking relaxed since yesterday?”

I glared at him. He only grinned. “Stop knowing me so well.”

“Can’t, Lo. Too late for that.”

Across the room, Asher entered the studio, our eyes snapping together like someone turned a spotlight on the two of us. A switch flipped, and we were just… aware.

He smiled, but even from here, I saw it didn’t reach his eyes. It wasn’t anger this time. Something else entirely. My heart stuttered. What did he think? Could I ever fix it?

That was the height of my fear. That I’d waited too long, and I couldn’t fix what I’d broken, no matter if I’d done it for the right reason.

Claire came rushing in at the last second, dropping her bag and getting her shoes on seconds before Madame Hubert came in. “You okay?” I whispered.

---