Stevie-lou’s POV.

My heart was still racing as I wiped the sweat off my forehead. That performance had eaten me raw. Every muscle in my body was still vibrating. The black feathered leotard I wore...designed with precision and attitude...hugged my skin like a second layer, still warm from the heat of the spotlight. I felt it in my bones. The music. The rhythm. The eyes. Especially his.

I had seen the way Smith Hart looked at me.

He was far back in the dark hall but there was no missing the way he leaned forward during the dance. The others might’ve been sipping their drinks, whispering among themselves or pretending...