HAVEN POV
My phone buzzed against the wooden floor near the mirror of the dance studio. Again. I’d lost track of how many times I’d heard it go off.
I knew who it probably was. A small twinge of guilt flickered through me as I ignored it again, but I kept at my cool down stretches without moving to check it, and pushed the negative feeling to the side.
I was alone in the studio. Class was over, and the few dancers who had attended had already left, making their way back to their apartments or heading out for a late breakfast with other members of the company.
They had extended a courtesy invitation to me, as always, and as always, I turned it down.
I didn’t come to California to make friends. I came to dance, to improve, to boost my chances of becoming a principal somewhere, eventuall
