Page 3 of The Vampire’s Ballerina

Maddie laughs. “Trust me, they’d be more mad at me than at you. But Imogen may get a repeat of last night once Reid sees her in that dress.”

I shake my head, catching Haven’s eyes again. She’s been too quiet this whole time, not even commenting on our dresses. She’s observing, listening, watching, and tapping away at her phone every once in a while, and I’m not sure what to make of her behavior.

Is it directed at me? Did I annoy her? Is she tired?

“No.” I turn back around so Maya can make some tweaks to the low cowl neckline on the front of my dress. “Last night—and this morning—was fantastic, but it was just a one-time thing. An itch I needed to scratch. And he scratched it very well.”

Maddie gags, covering her mouth, and Haven and Maya laugh.

“Okay, okay, enough talk about Imogen’s night with Reid,” Haven says. “I want to get a picture of you all!”

“The dresses still need altering, Haven,” Maya says, even as she moves to stand closer to Maddie and me.

“Yes, but they look gorgeous as ever! You outdo yourself every time!”

“Wait until you see Haven’s,” Maya murmurs, winking at me.

“Will Wes have a heart attack?” I ask through my practiced, performance-worthy half smile.

“No, but he’ll probably cry.” Maddie flashes a grin just as Haven snaps a picture.

I hold back a laugh. “Sounds like Wes.”

“Done!” Haven declares with twinkling eyes and a big smile on her face.

She’s the perfect image of a joyful bride, antsy and bubbling with excitement for her big day. If it were me, I’d be stressed beyond belief, making sure every minute detail was perfect. With less than a month until the big day, I’d be running around like a chicken with its head cut off, or sticking my head in the sand like an ostrich. Then again, Haven pretty much let Maya plan the whole day for her. Haven doesn’t care about the details. All she cares about is marrying Wesley. Her soulmate. The man she loves, who loves her back more fiercely than I’ve ever seen or heard of.

That’s a love I would give anything to experience, even for just one day.

Maya makes a gimme gesture with her fingers. “All right, take these off and give them back to me.”

I blink, pulled from my thoughts. My eyes catch my reflection as my hands smooth over the plush velvet of my dress. The mask I always wear is slipping, my mind wandering down paths I’d rather avoid. I inhale and close my eyes, forcing that mask back into place before I turn around.

After I change, I sit on the floor again, ready to dig back into my burrito.

Haven plops down next to me. “You okay?”

I force a smile. “Peachy.”

But I look away from her. She knows me too well. She can see through the lies on my face and in my words.

We’re too similar—one reason we didn’t get along at first—and she’s no stranger to pushing everything down behind a mature, collected, flawless facade, no matter the cost to her mental health. The childhood traumas and insecurities behind our perfected personas may be different, but the result is the same: an inability to trust others with our true selves and walls around our hearts as deep and thick as the ocean.

Haven lowers her voice. “Imogen…”

My eyes flick to Maddie and Maya in warning.

Haven follows my gaze and sighs. Leaning against the mirrors, she stretches her legs out in front of her. Her hands wrap around her calves as she points her feet and she hums a quiet song. It’s just off-key enough that I can’t quite place the tune.

“Is it all right if I leave these here for now?” Maya asks.

Haven nods, still humming softly to herself.

“Thanks. I need to get back to town to finish taking inventory on costumes for Giselle, and I have a meeting with Peter to go over Imogen’s costume for Afternoon of a Faun.”

Haven flicks her eyes towards me at that, but I reveal nothing. I don’t react to Maya’s words or her reference to our director. Our boss.

Because that’s all he is and all he ever can be. Our director and our boss.