CHAPTER 1
GRACE
The apartment is smaller than my last dorm room, but at least the closet doesn’t reek of decades-old body spray. And—another upside—the shower actually works. My window faces the parking lot, but honestly, city sounds this deep into Boston are constant. You get used to it.
Three months of this.
Then back to the grind for my senior year of college. A few months ago, there was nothing in this world that could make me more excited to be here at Reverie Ice Show for three months of 5 A.M. wake-ups and two-a-day shows on the weekends. And that wasbeforethey promoted me to the lead princess role.
I groan and force myself out of bed. Dread swims in circles deep in my heart. Not stage fright, not imposter syndrome.Worse.
My phone buzzes on the cheap kitchen table. “Rehearsal. 6:00 A.M. Don’t be late!” attached to a pic of Hannah, the director, grinning at a rack of sequined costumes. I roll my eyes. It’s only 5 A.M., but I suppose many are up and stretching for the day. I should do the same rather than continue to coddle this feeling of dread.
If they were here, you’d have scented them by now.
I glare at the orange pill bottle on the nightstand.Maybe.Maybe not.
I scented themthroughmy suppressants during spring break. Three scent-matched alphas and a connection that I’d say was undeniable given the strength.
But it was for them. Apparently.
I shake two blue pills free from the bottle and pop them dry. Better to do what I can to prepare just in case.Thisbatch of suppressants is stronger. Roses and pheromones have no place in my life for the foreseeable future, and I am absolutely okay with that.
Connor. Zev. Fowler.
I can say their names in my head, but I won’t let them in my mouth.
I pull on my black training jacket from school and tug the cuffs until the Old Harbor University patch sits dead center over my heart. I almost laugh at myself.
Like a patch could protect you from anything.
It’s 5:32AM when I finally head out. The building’s halls are echoey and sterile, with peeling motivational posters from the early 2000s— “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take!”But what if your shot is rejected in front of the entire Reverie Ice Show after they try to get you removed?
It didn’t work, obviously. But still.
There’s another omega on the elevator, maybe eighteen and here for the junior group. She blinks up at me with brown eyes. “Are you in Reverie?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You?”
She nods. “I’m just background. My mom says maybe next year after I have more experience.”
I want to tell her it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. That sometimes being in the background is safer, but she looks sohungry for it I can’t bring myself to crush her. “You’re going to kill it this year. I’m Grace.”
“Charlotte.” She gives a little wave. “It’s nice to meet you, Grace. You’re in the female lead role, right?”
My stomach does a little flip flop. I still can’t quite believe it. “That’s me, newly promoted.” Originally, I was supposed to just be in the opening number and that’s it. But things happen, and the good part of always staying ready for opportunities means that when they strike, you can make the most of them.
“Nice! I’m happy to skate with you this summer.”
I grin. “Me too.”
We walk together across the street to Reverie’s arena. The pavement already radiates June heat at not even 6:00AM during this unusually warm summer. The arena is massive up close. Its steel panels gleam, and the banners from last year’s shows droop like sad party streamers.
We part ways at the door. I take a deep breath, set my face to “unbothered,” and go in.
The hum of refrigeration is a constant, low-level growl inside the building. The lobby is empty except for a janitor mopping up an old Slushie spill, and the air already smells faintly of popcorn and chemical cleaner.
I follow a few signs down various corridors until I find the changing room, which is lined with blown-up photos of past casts. Every face is grinning, every pose is theatrical. I wonder if we’ll all be just as happy this season.
