21. Chapter 16
Off Balance
Sebastian
L eaning against the bench in the locker room, his thoughts were still partially on Evin. The taste of last night still clung to him—bitter and sweet, all at once.
But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted when Vinc addressed him directly.
“Well, Loverboy? How was it with Evin? Did she show you how flexible she is from all that ballet?” He grinned widely, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Vinc wasn’t a friend. Just a teammate. Before this, they’d barely exchanged more than a few words.
Bas rolled his eyes, pretending to ignore him, but that only seemed to encourage this dude more. “Come on, man, we all know something happened. You can’t deny it. Everyone saw you two last night. No way you’re getting out of this one."
“ Yeah,” Dominic chimed in, “she practically undressed you with her eyes. It was embarrassing to watch. Something had to have happened this time.”
“None of your business,” Bas muttered, pulling his shirt over his head. He wanted to shut it down, but the two of them were like vultures smelling blood.
“So it did happen!” Vinc laughed loudly, slapping Dominic on the shoulder. “I knew it! She got you.”
“What do you mean, ‘she got you’?” Dominic smirked.
“Come on, if anything, he had her wrapped around his finger. She’s always acting like she’s better than everyone else.
But in the end, she’s just one of those girls who picks the right guy to polish up her image.
” Bas felt his muscles tighten but kept silent.
“So, was she good?” Vinc wouldn’t let it go. “Come on, man. You can tell us. Was she as hot as she looks?” “Or did she just tease you and then shut it down?”
Dominic smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’d be typical of someone like her.”
She’s not like that," Bas snapped, before he could stop himself.
“Oh, she’s not ‘someone like her’?” Vinc raised his eyebrows, snorting. “Come on, Bas, we know you. Don’t tell us she’s special. Or is she?”
“Man, don’t get all sentimental now,” Dominic joined in. “We both know she knew exactly what she was doing when she went after you.”
“Exactly. She practically begged for it, didn’t she?” Vinc laughed. “The way she was looking at you, bro... She was practically undressed before you two were even alone.”
Bas started to speak, but nothing came out. He wanted to defend her—he really did—but part of him was still angry. Angry about Ben. Angry that she had made him feel replaceable. And worse, he couldn’t risk looking like a fool in front of the guys.
“Yeah, she wanted it,” he finally said, and his heart sank the moment the words left his lips.
“Ha! Told you!” Vinc laughed triumphantly, high-fiving Dominic.
“ And?” Dominic crossed his arms, looking at him challengingly. “Did she give you the full experience?”
That’s when Jonas, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke.
"What the fuck is wrong with the three of you?"
The laughter stopped.
Jonas’s voice was calm, but his expression was cold. He looked straight at Bas.
A heavy silence settled between them. When Bas finally looked up, Jonas was staring—not smirking like the others, not amused, just… disappointed.
"And you?" His eyes narrowed. "Didn’t think you’d be the kind of guy to sell her out."
Jonas’s voice cut through the laughter like a blade.
Bas felt his stomach drop, but his face stayed blank. Jonas just shook his head and grabbed his bag.
"Whatever." That was all he said before walking out.
One comment led to another, each exaggeration fueling the next. By the time Bas even considered responding, their version of events was already set.
__________
Now, hours later, he sat on the steps, the weight of his own silence pressing down on him like a noose.
Evin’s words had hit him like blows. But the worst part? She was right.
"You practically invited them to see me like that," she had said. And Bas couldn’t deny it.
He hadn’t protected her. He had let Dominic and Vinc reduce her to nothing more than a joke, twisting reality into something she wasn’t. And he had said nothing.
Worse—he’d played along.
He knew his words had been warped, that the rumors spreading now were even worse than what had actually been said. But that didn’t matter. He had started it. He had let them take it further.
Bas buried his face in his hands. He had wrecked everything.
Evin meant more to him than he’d ever let himself admit.
But now she was gone.
And it was his fault.
__________
Evin
B y the time she had made it home, her hands were shaking.
She had barely made it to her room before the tears came—hot, angry, relentless.
She hated him.
She hated him with a fire so wild it burned in her throat.
Not because he had hurt her.
No, she could have handled that.
But because he had made her feel small. Like she was nothing. Just another passing moment in his life, something to be talked about, laughed at, tossed aside.
She had cried, but only for a moment. Then, she had wiped her face, squared her shoulders, and done what she always did. She moved on.
__________
The ballet studio was filled with a focused silence, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of pointe shoes against the floor. Evin stood in the front row, her shoulders squared, hands on her hips, her gaze fixed intently on her reflection in the mirror.
Eve ry muscle in her body burned, her legs felt like lead, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Not now.
There was no room for weakness here. No room for rumors and no room for Bas.
The mirror reflected an exterior of calm, but inside, a storm of exhaustion and self-doubt raged. There was no room for error—not now, not when everything was on the line. Every step, every turn had to be perfect.
The pain in her feet, tightly confined in laced pointe shoes, was becoming unbearable. Each landing sent shockwaves through her legs, but it didn’t matter. She had to keep going. She wanted this role desperately.
Mrs. Wagner’s sharp eyes followed her every movement. Not a single hesitation or imperfection escaped her scrutiny.
"More precision, Evin! It mustn’t look like you’re struggling," her voice rang out, clear and almost cold. "Every movement must look effortless. Do you understand? Control and grace."
Evin clenched her jaw, absorbing the critique, forcing herself to channel it into her movements. She pushed through an especially painful jump, her feet screaming in protest. Pain was part of the process. Ballet wasn’t just art; it was a battlefield, and only the strongest survived.
Standing at the center of the room, she inhaled deeply as the music began. Her steps were fluid, but her muscles clenched in resistance. She couldn’t let it show. She couldn’t falter.
"Extend, Evin! Stretch, stretch, stretch!" Mrs. Wagner’s voice echoed through the studio.
Evin pushed her arm further, feeling the burn in her shoulders, but she didn’t stop. Her toes were numb, the floor unyielding, yet she pushed harder.
"Own the moment! Let the breath flow!"
With a sharp pivot, Evin spun on her toes, fire pulsing through her feet, but her movements had to seem weightless. Mrs. Wagner’s eyes never left her, catching even the slightest deviation.
"Longer! Stretch until it hurts!"
Her heart pounded as she fought through the pain, extending further, leapin g higher. Sweat trickled down her spine, her breath sharp and controlled.
"And… jump! Higher! Hold, hold, hold!"
Evin’s body screamed for relief, but she pushed herself to the limit. There was no room for hesitation. No space for pain. Not anymore.
Summoning every ounce of her strength, she pushed off the ground, feeling the strain in her calves and the heaviness in her legs. The jump wasn’t high enough. She knew it instantly.
"Even higher, Evin! More tension! You can't let yourself sink like that!"
Every cell in her body screamed for rest, but Evin forced herself to keep pushing.
The final beats of the music echoed through the room, and with one last jump that nearly pushed her to her limits, she landed heavily on her toes.
Her entire body burned, but she bowed—gracefully, as she had been taught.
This was the moment she had been working toward for months—and she wouldn’t fail.
As the dance ended and she bowed, the room fell silent. Mrs. Wagner stepped forward, her gaze sharp and unyielding.
"Good, Evin," she finally said, her tone cool. "But you know what I expect! You’ll get the role... but only if you achieve the physical refinement necessary. You still have time—use it wisely."
Relief flickered inside her—but so did something heavier. Her words weren’t just an expectation. They were a warning. Slimmer. Lighter. Less is more.
The triumph suddenly felt heavier than it should have. She had won, but the doubts gnawed at her relentlessly. Perfect... but at what cost?
The pressure inside her surged unexpectedly. Evin’s heart pounded, but she only nodded silently. The victory felt hollow because she knew the price for this role wasn’t just in her talent but in her willingness to keep fighting against herself.
__________
Th e locker room buzzed with quiet conversation and the rustling of fabric. Evin sat on the hard wooden bench, head lowered, trying to steady her breathing. Her muscles burned, her feet throbbed, but none of that compared to the weight pressing on her.
She knew today had been an intense practice, but Mrs. Wagner’s words had cut deep.
Next to her, Nele slipped off her pointe shoes effortlessly, as if today had been nothing. Her posture was perfect, her shoes tied with textbook precision. Evin felt Nele’s gaze on her before she even spoke.
"You know," Nele began, glancing at her own calves with feigned indifference, "most prima ballerinas barely have hips. It just looks... more elegant. Lighter. But, of course, we all have our strengths, right?"
She flashed a fleeting smile, but there was a cold glint in her eyes.