Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 89

I’m not as tired as I thought I’d be.

My legs are warm in that post-dance kind of way, and there’s a light sheen of sweat under the neckline of my pink tank top, but it’s not exhaustion. It’s adrenaline. Excitement. The good kind.

Rehearsal was mostly about getting a feel for Luc—how he moves, how I move, how we meet in the middle. He’s strong and grounded, and at first I was a little tense—because you never really know if someone’s going to drop you, and trust isn’t something I hand out easily—but after the first few lifts, I stopped worrying.

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t wobble. And more importantly, he didn’t treat me like glass or like I was someone to impress. He was just... there. Steady. Focused.

“Your lines are beautiful,” he said at one point as we held a pose longer than necessary for the rep’s notes. “I mean it.”

I’d flushed and muttered something like thanks, but he’d just smiled and added, “It will be an honor to dance beside you.”

After we’re dismissed by Madame and the others, Luc and I walk out of the studio together. The sun is still out, casting gold streaks on the sidewalk, and the light breeze cools my damp skin.

“You are from here, yes?” he asks as we cross the lot toward the street.

“Born and raised,” I nod. “And you?”

“Paris. But I train part of the year in Canada. We travel a lot.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it is also rewarding. You get used to sleeping in strange beds.”

I smile at that. “Well, welcome to this strange town.”

He grins. “Merci. And I think your petit copain is here.”

I blink, then glance toward the street—and sure enough, there’s Asher. Leaning against his car like he walked out of a movie scene. White shirt, jeans, hands in his pockets, just... there.

Luc gives me a quick hug and waves. “À demain, étoile.”

Tomorrow, star.

I barely have time to process it before he disappears down the sidewalk. I turn toward Asher and walk over.

“Hi,” I say, suddenly shy.

He smiles down at me, soft and warm. “Hey. How did it go?”

“Good,” I say, trying not to sound too giddy. “It was more of a get-to-know-you session with Luc and Sofia. Luc’s great. Strong, reliable. Didn’t drop me, which is always a win.”

Asher smirks. “That’s a low bar.”

“It is,” I laugh, “but unfortunately, not everyone clears it.”

He opens the passenger side door for me and I slide in. As he gets in the driver’s seat, I glance at him. “Does this outfit work for dinner? I didn’t really change.” And it's true, I basically just put jeans over my tights and put on cute shoes.

His eyes flick over me, lingering for half a second on my pink tank top and the cropped black bolero I threw on over it. “You look perfect.”

Something about the way he says it makes my chest flutter.

The engine starts and we pull onto the road. He glances over. “Tell me more about rehearsal.”

I shrug, then start talking. “It was mostly just finding our rhythm. Madame wanted to see how we sync, how our timing is together. A lot of basic lifts, some spotting work, a few partnering warmups. There’s a rep from the gala there too. I guess they want to keep an eye on everything.”

“Pressure much?” he murmurs.

I nod. “Yeah. But I don’t know. It didn’t feel bad. Luc was easy to work with. He listens. He’s not all ‘I know better than you’ like some leads.”

Asher chuckles. “Glad he passed the Penny test.”

I smile, glancing over at him. “You were up early.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Yeah. Needed to catch up. I hadn’t worked out in a couple days.”

I nod slowly, watching the way his hands grip the steering wheel. Veins visible, strong fingers tapping lightly in rhythm to something only he can hear.

We pull into a parking lot near a small, low-lit restaurant. Asher turns off the engine and then turns slightly in his seat, scratching the back of his neck.

“I should warn you,” he says, voice low. “Eric—Rooster—he can be... a lot. Loud. Gory. Some of the stories aren’t pretty. If it gets too much, just give me a look and I’ll tell him to shut up.”

I laugh. “I think I can handle it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Just saying. He has no filter.”

“Someone’s finally going to shine a light on the mysterious Asher Hayes. I’ve been waiting for this day.”

He groans and opens the door. “There’s nothing mysterious about me.”

I hop out too, grinning as I join him. “Please. You’re basically a fictional character at this point. Dark past. Mysterious vibe. You probably speak seven languages and secretly rescue kittens in your spare time.”

He shakes his head, smirking as he leads me to the restaurant door. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

His silence is a little too long to be unintentional.

Then he opens the door, and I follow him inside.