For our Sunday matinee, three singers show up with horse throats and are sent home. Ms. Galloway announces, “We have another week and a half in Atlanta. Watch yourselves! Take your vitamin C, people. Be smart. Don’t blow it.”

One of the singers turns, holding onto the doorframe. “You’re not kicking us out of the show, are you?”

“If I was kicking you out of the show I would tell you I was kicking you out of the show. Now go home. Get some rest. We’ll run light today. Be back before tonight’s curtain or you’re out.”

His eyes go wide and he rushes to tell the others who’d already left.

The rest of us shuffle our weight, sharing glances that say, she’s not fucking around. Logan locks eyes with me. He’s not in danger—he’s been stepping it up lately. I’ve never seen him quite this committed. His usual skill-level has been surpassed like he’s practicing outside of performances on his own.

We haven’t been hanging out like we normally do. He’s been super-focused and keeping to himself like he plans to make Broadway his, no matter who else might audition for his part up there.

Asher and I are dating, everyone knows it, and we’re in that pink fluffy stage I always heard about. Where everything you say sounds like cotton candy and watermelon lemonade on a warm summer’s day.

Logan is giving us space. I think that’s pretty cool of him. We say hello and goodbye, but other than that, I’m all about Asher, sinking deeper into happiness.

We’re taking it slow. He hasn’t made a move after I corrected him on opening night. We’ve kissed and held hands, took our breaks together, gone home to pass out from exhaustion after each show. Talked on the phone every night before our heads hit the pillow.

I’m ready for more.

I think.

Hmm, I’m still not sure.

There’s something blocking me. The timing isn’t right. What’s the rush?

Maybe I’m just nervous.

“We open the house in twenty minutes.” Galloway waves us away as she heads to Rogess.

Asher approaches me and mutters under his breath, “Better start sucking up.” He walks toward his dressing room, but I pause to wait for Logan. Asher asks, “You coming?”

“No, you go on ahead.”

He stares at me a beat and walks away, raking his hair back like he has nothing to worry about.

Logan’s makeup is already on and he seems prepared, which is why I thought he has a moment to talk. “Have you been taking vocal lessons?” I ask, head tilted by curiosity.

He shrugs, “Yeah.”

“I noticed.”

He’d been fidgeting like something is on his mind, but now his gaze locks onto me, cobalt eyes sharp. “It’s some girl I found online, teaching lessons. We do video chats. She listens, gives me notes. It changed my breathing. Turns out I wasn’t singing from my diaphragm. I never had lessons before.”

One of our lighting technicians runs by us so we step aside as I say, “You have a really beautiful voice. I guess your parents never thought to put you in a singing class, huh?”

“Guess not. You really think I sound good?”

My smile broadens. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, you know that. You’re taking this seriously, aren’t you? It’s finally happening for us.”

“There’s nothing more serious than a lifelong dream, Samantha.” He staring at me so intensely I can’t look away.

Galloway whisper-yells. “The house is open!”

Logan turns first. It feels as if a spell is broken. I blink at him as he vanishes behind one of the many black curtains.

I head opposite, disappointment at my back.

During a second encore tonight, Asher takes my hand like he did after the first performance, and raises it high. We bow together. The audience goes nuts, and I start laughing. He is grinning, so handsome with the spotlights shimmering in his eyes. I glance over to Logan on the other side of me, and I can’t stop smiling.

As the curtains close I ask him, “Did you see me almost fall when we were standing in front of the church in the first act?”

Logan shakes his head, eyes losing their shine. “I didn't notice.”

As he leaves, I call after him, “Oh good, it wasn’t obvious then.”

Asher touches the small of my back. “Why are you asking if he noticed? What about if I noticed?”

I cut a glance to see if he’s joking and discover a smirk and a twinkle there. “Oh shut up,” I laugh. “As if you could ever be insecure.”

He chuckles and gives me a kiss that’s torn apart by Galloway appearing in the shadows behind him. I pause and touch his chest to tell him we’re being watched.

“Asher, come here.”

He gives my nose a peck. “Wait for me?”

I smile, “Okay.”

She says, “Samantha, don’t go too far.”

I stop walking, nod, pick at my nails, and pretend not to try and decipher what they’re talking about. It looks serious. Is she against our dating? Okay, he’s smiling. That’s a good sign. Asher heads to his dressing room and throws me a wink.

Suspecting what this might be about, my ribs feel like they shrank. Galloway straightens her spine as she glides over, never breaking the stare. “When I was a girl, and by a girl I mean your age, I had already danced in Moscow, London, Melbourne, Paris, and Frankfurt. Ever been out of Georgia, Samantha?”

“No, Ms. Galloway. Well, once to Myrtle Beach, but…”

A sly smile tugs. “The producer has chosen you to continue on with our production.”

“Are you serious,” I whisper.

“I never joke about dancing.”

Jumping up and down, I lose my mind. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much! Please tell him I said thank you so much! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

Galloway laughs, albeit briefly. “That is the kind of reaction I would expect from news such as this. Most conceal it.” She clasps her hands on my shoulders. “It’s nice to see someone appreciative of an opportunity such as this.”

“Is Logan going?”

“I haven’t talked to him yet so I cannot divulge that answer.” Touching my hair, she adds, “Congratulations. You have earned it.”

I call after her as she walks away, “Thank you Ms. Galloway!”

Pausing, she turns around with an afterthought that turns out to be the best advice she can give. “When you finally got it together the day of your audition, I wanted to give you the role. It was the fact that you hadn’t heard the music play that made you lose it. Do you understand?” With her eyes narrowing she further explains, “If you screw up on Broadway, consider your career over. They don’t give second chances. You nail it the first time, you get hired again and that is your second chance. The same with your third, and your fourth. You might, after that point, make a mistake, drop the ball, not show up on time, or any other mediocre quality that people seem to think is okay. But only after you have proved yourself to a point where your error is an anomaly will they again gamble everything they have on you.”

“I understand.”

Satisfied, she disappears.

That was one of those moments where time slows down and you realize you’re hearing something that you need to pay special attention to. It was like someone turned on the recorder so that I wouldn’t forget a single word. She was warning me out of experience, her wisdom so deep, even cynical, that she had to share with me because she thought I wasn’t prepared for a life that cutthroat. My footsteps are slow as I walk to my dressing room.

They don’t give second chances.

As I pass Logan’s dressing room, the door is open and neither he nor Alfredo are inside. The room is dark and I almost walk in, though I don’t know why. There’s nothing for me here.

Shrugging it off, I continue down the dark hall and wrap on Asher’s door. “I’ll be ready in ten.”

He calls back, “I’ll pick you up at your dressing room.”

“Like literally pick me up? Off the ground?”

He doesn’t seem to get my humor as he replies, “I’m on the phone.”

“Oh, sorry!”

My smile grows the closer I get to my dressing room. Broadway. The big city. The one they say never sleeps. If I can make it there, I have made it. Period. And to be dancing as the lead female in a hit musical when I arrive! Wow.

I smile to my reflection, sagging roses in a vase to my right as I whisper, “It’s a dream come true.”