Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother novel Chapter 68

Chapter 68: Asher

I lean against the far wall of the studio, arms folded across my chest, posture relaxed–but my eyes? They’re sharp, trained on one person.

Penelope Vales.

She’s lined up now with at least two dozen other dancers. All of them pressed into clean, straight lines, their backs so straight they could balance glass on their spines. Their arms are by their sides, feet positioned just so. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I can’t help but see the parallel to soldiers standing at attention. Poised. Unmoving. Not because they’re calm–but because they’ve trained their bodies to stay still when everything inside is screaming.

And if anyone’s screaming internally, it’s Penny.

She looks pale. Not just nerves–pale, but ghost–white. Her fingers keep brushing over her hip, twitching like she wants to hold onto something but doesn’t know what. Mila, her friend, stands beside her and isn’t faring much better. Neither are the rest of the dancers. This is not the energy of people about to celebrate. This is battlefield silence. The kind before the first shot’s fired.

Then the door bursts open.

And in comes the general.

She’s shorter than I expected, with a frame that reminds me of a bulldog–compact, powerful, commanding. Her coat is black and fur–lined, flaring as she storms across the studio like she owns the air in it. Which, judging by the way everyone straightens up even more, she probably does.

Madame Loretto, I assume.

She takes a red folder from what looks like her assistant, eyes the crowd with scrutiny that could skin you alive. Her gaze cuts through dancers like it’s sorting them into piles: good, bad, disposable.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” she begins. Her voice is rich but firm, the kind that demands silence even when she’s not yelling. “This studio has seen better days. Unfortunately, this year, few were chosen. I know this will be difficult, but you will recover. You will work harder. And you will try again next year.”

Oof.

Not sugarcoated. Not even sweetened. Just fact. She’s not here to coddle feelings.

I glance at Penny again.

Her chin is up, barely. Her lips are parted like she forgot how to breathe. But it’s the greenish tint to her skin that tells me just how bad this is for her. She’s seconds from fainting. And she knows it. But she won’t move. Won’t flinch. Like she’s scared even blinking will count against her.

Then the naming begins.

One girl steps forward. “Background role,” Madame says. The girl dips her head in acceptance but clearly isn’t thrilled.

Two more names. Same announcement–background dancers. These two look thrilled, practically glowing. Madame stares them down and says, “Don’t be too proud. I watched your tapes. I counted at least five things to correct.”

Harsh.

а

I get it now. Why Penny speaks of this woman like a walking storm. Madame Loretto doesn’t throw praise like confetti. She throws it like knives–earned and sharp.

Two male dancers step forward. The first is named understudy for the male lead. Applause breaks out. He grins. The other is announced as a secondary dancer and nods humbly.

Then:

“Mila.”

1/3

Chapter 68: Asher

Penny’s best friend steps forward.

“Secondary dancer.”

Not lead. But not background. Penny hugs her so tight it’s like she’s afraid she’ll break apart otherwise. I can see the way her hands shake around Mila’s back.

Then Madame closes the folder.

My heart drops into my stomach.

No Penny?

No mention?

The air thickens in the room, buzzing with disappointment. It’s a strange silence. The kind where hope deflates like a balloon, quiet and painful. Penny’s face doesn’t change at first. She’s frozen. And then-

“Everyone out… except Penelope.”

Every head in the room whips toward her. Mila grabs Penny’s hand, whispers something I don’t catch. Penny just nods, robotic, and mutters, “Congrats again.“.

Everyone files out. I step closer to her out of instinct.

“Are you okay?” I ask, low, quiet.

Before she can answer, Madame turns to me.

“You, Who are you? Accompanying her?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

At my tone, her eyes narrow a little.

“Army?”

“Navy SEALs, ma’am.”

Her brow arches in approval. “Good. You stay. She’ll need support for what I’m about to say.”

She says it like she’s sentencing someone. Penny sways slightly, like her legs are losing their resolve.

The doors close. Now it’s just us.

Madame eyes Penny with a steel gaze. “Penelope. I see you’re distraught. Why?”

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” Penny says, her voice cracking halfway through.

“Does it mean that much to you?”

“Yes.”

Madame pauses. Then opens the folder again.

“Penelope Vales. Choreography 4.0. Swan Lake – Odette, Act IL, Scene 1.

My ears perk up. I’ve heard that title before. Penny’s mentioned it in passing. The choreography she chose for the auditions.

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