Page 110 of Allegiant

Marcy clucks her tongue sympathetically as she pats my shoulder. “Babes, give it up. We’re not going on stage until we’ve got answers.”

I arch a brow as my hands go to my hips. “Are you serious? We have a show just around the corner. We don’t have time for this.”

“Start talking, then,” Clay says. “You’re the one holding us up, not us.”

“Fine.” I exhale in frustration. “His name is Samson. We met at Rounds a few weeks ago. We’re…sleeping together. I’ve spent the last few nights at his place. That’s all there is to it.”

The truth of that strikes me oddly. On paper, that is all we’ve shared. Then why does it feel like it’s much more than that?

Shane gestures at the auditorium. “So, your hookup is just watching us dance?”

I shrug a shoulder. “He seems to like it.”

“Can’t blame him,” Clay says, swatting at my ass. “Never seen anyone move like you.”

My cheeks flush. “Well, how about we all get out on stage and do some of that moving, hmm?”

The rehearsal goes off without a hitch. We run through the entire first act twice, only pausing to drink our body weight in water.

Samson doesn’t take his eyes off the stage once. Doesn’t seem to matter that he’s seen the routine before; his eyes shine like it’s the first time.

I always dance well. It’s the reason why I’m the face of the studio. But Samson’s attention makes my steps lighter. My limbs stretch longer. My poses are sharper and turns more precise.

He makes me a better dancer, because I’m not performing for an anonymous audience.

I’m performing for him.

There’s a lot of back-slapping and whooping as we all break from our final poses at the end of act one. Tomorrow we’ll run through the second act, then we’ll move on to dress and tech rehearsals.

I can feel the energy thrumming in my blood. This is what I live for. To perform. To shine. To let my body say all the words I can’t bring myself to speak.

After agreeing to a start time with my friends, I glance over at Samson’s seat in the audience. My face falls when I see it’s empty. I quickly scan the auditorium, but I can’t see my grump lurking in any of the shadows.

My heart falls slightly, and I realize then and there that I like him far too much already.

“Ahem.” Marcy nudges me in the ribs with a massive grin. “Think you’ve got someone waiting for you.”

I look at where she’s pointing, and my heart swells so fast it’s almost painful. There, in the wings, is Samson.

Only one other has cared enough for me to wait there. Knowing, with confidence, that they are the first person I’ll want to see as I step off the stage.

And he’s right. Fuck, he’s right. Samson is exactly who I want to see right now.

Happiness and relief bubble through me as I fly across the stage and into his arms. He catches me with ease as I wrap my legs around his middle. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he says, hugging me fiercely. “You were spectacular. St. Dismas isn’t going to know what’s hit it.”

“Flatterer,” I tease, leaning back so I can dust a kiss over his lips. Then I take a big step. One I hadn’t planned on taking today, but it suddenly feels so right. “Want to come and meet my friends?”

Longing flashes through Samson’s eyes, followed immediately by regret. “Fuck. I do. I really, really do. But I just got a call from Wylder. He’s out front waiting for me. I’ll only be gone thirty minutes, max.”

“Oh.” Disappointment courses through me, but I try to keep it from my face. “No worries. You can meet them tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry.” Samson leans his forehead against mine. “If I could put Wylder off, I would.”

“It’s fine,” I say breezily, loosening my legs from his waist and sliding to the floor. “Honestly.”

“It’s not,” he grumbles, cupping my face. “I can tell it’s not. Don’t lie to me, Row.”