HANNAH
Practicing had quietly woven itself into our daily rhythm. Jeremy, with his perpetual scowl and gruff muttering, had become a constant shadow as I worked to regain my strength. I didn’t ask him to help every time, but he was always there—leaning against the wall, watching me with an inscrutable expression, or silently correcting my posture with a nudge or a glance.
My ankle was healing well. The brace had come off, and I was walking almost normally again, but the lingering stiffness and occasional aches reminded me that I wasn’t ready to return to the stage. The doctors were clear: Take your time. But time wasn’t something I liked to waste.
“Again,” I said one afternoon, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. We were in the living room, the furniture pushed to the sides to make space.
“Hannah,” Jeremy started, his voice carrying that familiar tone of warning.
“I’m fine,” I interrupted, holding my hands out like I could physically ward off his concern. “I just need to test myself, okay? Stop babying me.”
Jeremy’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped forward, his hands hovering near my waist as I prepared to move.
“No,” I said quickly, straightening my back. “I need to do this without you. Just… give me a second.”
His brow furrowed, but he took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine. But don’t blame me if you land on your face.”
I ignored the jab, closing my eyes and centering myself. My muscles tensed, then relaxed as I took a deep breath. Slowly, I began to move—lightly, carefully—testing the limits of my healing body. The movements were hesitant at first, but as I went on, I felt the rhythm in my limbs, the muscle memory awakening.
I twirled, the rotation smooth and fluid, my arms extending gracefully. For a brief moment, I felt like myself again—weightless, powerful, free.
When I stopped, I caught Jeremy’s expression. He wasn’t scowling for once. His arms had dropped to his sides, his eyes wide and filled with something I couldn’t quite place.
“You’re staring,” I said, trying to sound lighthearted as I brushed invisible dust from my leggings.
“You’re…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly, like he was trying to clear his thoughts.
I arched a brow. “I’m what?”
“Magnificent,” he said quietly, the word almost swallowed by the space between us.
Heat rose to my cheeks, and I quickly turned my attention back to my footing. “Magnificent,” I echoed, my voice teasing as I tried to mask the blush spreading across my face. “Big word, Jeremy. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Don’t push it,” he muttered, his gruff tone returning.
But the spell was broken. My next movement faltered, my ankle twisting slightly, and I stumbled.
Jeremy was there in an instant, his arms steadying me before I could fall. His grip was firm, his hands warm against my sides. I looked up at him, still flustered, and found him staring down at me again.
“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low. “You’re not there yet.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I said, but my voice lacked its usual bite.
He didn’t let go immediately. His gaze lingered, those piercing eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
“You move…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You move like you’re meant to be seen.”
I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond to something like that. The way he said it—it wasn’t just admiration. It was something deeper, something that made my chest tighten and my pulse quicken.
“Maybe I should’ve fallen harder,” I said lightly, trying to deflect the tension. “If it gets me compliments like that.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re predictable,” I shot back, stepping away from him carefully.
Jeremy stayed quiet as I took a seat on the couch, my heart still racing. He returned to his spot by the wall, watching me with that same unreadable expression.
“Thanks,” I said softly, meeting his gaze for just a moment before looking away.
He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough.
****
The night air was crisp, a faint chill seeping into my room even with the window shut. I had just finished my nighttime routine, the warm glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across my space. My body felt heavy from the day’s practice, my muscles aching, but it was a satisfying kind of exhaustion.
I had just pulled the covers over myself when a sound startled me—a soft knock, almost hesitant, coming from the window. My heart jumped as I sat up, my mind immediately racing. Who could possibly—?
I crept to the window, peeking out cautiously, only to find Jeremy standing there. His face was shadowed by the dim light outside, but I could still make out his familiar features, the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his hair fell slightly across his forehead. His lips quirked in a small, sheepish smile.
“What the hell?” I whispered as I opened the window.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t want to bother your parents. I’m fixing something out back. Is it okay if I just use your room for light?”
I blinked at him, my mind reeling. He was standing outside my window like we were teenagers again, sneaking around just for the thrill of it. And yet, there was nothing mischievous about him now—just a kind of quiet confidence, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
“Fine,” I said, stepping aside to let him in. “But next time, knock on the door like a normal person.”
He climbed through effortlessly, carrying some tools in a small box. “Sure. Next time.”
I rolled my eyes, handing him the small lamp from my desk. “Here. Don’t break anything.”
He smirked but didn’t respond, setting the lamp on the floor and adjusting its angle to focus on whatever he was working on. I didn’t bother asking what it was; he’d probably give me some long-winded explanation that I wouldn’t understand.
Instead, I climbed back into bed, propping myself up with pillows as I watched him. His hands moved deftly, precise and steady, and his face was etched with focus.
“So,” I started, breaking the silence. “What are you working on?”
“Just fixing a latch for your dad’s shed,” he said, not looking up. “It’s nothing complicated.”
I hummed in response, pulling my blanket tighter around me. The conversation drifted from there, shifting to random topics: how my ankle was healing, how small the town still felt, and the state of the world outside this quiet corner.
His voice was calming in a way I hadn’t expected, and before I knew it, my eyes were growing heavy.
“Jeremy,” I mumbled, barely able to keep my eyes open.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t leave a mess,” I murmured, already sinking into sleep.
I didn’t hear his response, just the faint rustle of him moving around as I drifted off.
When I woke, the room was dim, the lamp on the floor still glowing faintly. I felt warmth behind me, a steady presence that made my breath catch.
Jeremy.
He was there, lying on his side, his arm draped over my waist. His body was solid and warm, his chest pressed lightly against my back. I froze, my mind racing.
I shifted slightly, trying to turn without waking him, but his arm tightened around me. His face buried itself in the crevice of my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
I tried not to react, but my heart was pounding. His scent—clean, sharp, with a faint hint of something earthy—filled my senses.
“Jeremy,” I whispered, but he didn’t move. I thought he was asleep until his voice, low and rough, cut through the silence.
“It’s still early,” he murmured. “Rest.”
My breath hitched, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. His voice was gentle, unguarded in a way that felt foreign to me.
I didn’t argue. Slowly, I placed my hand over his, letting my fingers rest lightly on his arm. He didn’t say anything else, just held me there, his breathing steady and calm.
I closed my eyes again, the tension in my body ebbing away. For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself sink into the quiet comfort of someone else’s presence.
****