Noah swirled his straw in his lemonade. He wished he knew how to help Violet, who struggled with interpersonal relationships. Their working relationship thrived because he understood her well enough to know she meant no offense.

"Have you tried talking to her about it?"

Violet shuddered.

"No way! You know I can't do confrontation. Ugh, I wish things weren't so awkward every time we get parts assigned. Our next show is The Nutcracker, with performances throughout December. She really wants to be the Sugar Plum Fairy, and I'm afraid she'll never forgive me if I get the part instead."

Ah, ballet politics. She'd vented about this many times. The problem of getting better roles than her friends had started in middle school.

Thankfully, he didn't have to deal with that in karate, although there was plenty of complaining when one person won a trophy and another didn't. Sore losers existed in every discipline.

"You were the Sugar Plum Fairy last year, right? Wouldn't it make sense for you to play a different role?" Noah asked rationally.

Violet had been with the New York City Ballet for nearly two and a half years, since graduating college. The Nutcracker was performed every Christmas, a cherished tradition for many.

Her first year, her parts were small: Clara's sister Louise in Act I and a flower in Act II. The following year, she improved, becoming a snowflake in Act I and the Sugar Plum Fairy in Act II.

The biggest role, of course, was Clara, who was onstage almost the entire time. However, no one had danced Clara without at least four years with the company. With so many experienced ballerinas, Violet didn't think she'd get that part.

"It would," she admitted. "But still I don't know what other part they'd give me, since Clara is basically out. I'm one of the best dancers there."

Violet wasn't bragging; it was a fact. The choreographers and director agreed, as did her fellow dancers—which she attributed to jealousy.

"You won't find out about parts until the beginning of November, right?" Noah asked.

"Yeah."

"Then don't worry about it until then," he said, shrugging. "Worrying early will only exhaust you. She might be the Sugar Plum Fairy this year, and you'll have worried for nothing."

Violet sighed, then smiled gently. "Always my voice of reason, huh? Nobody would believe you're the younger one."

His mood soured. He was sensitive about their age difference, certain it was why she didn't see him as a man. She considered him like a little brother. Who falls in love with their little brother?

He'd been devastated when Violet graduated high school, fearing she'd forget him despite her promises.

But Violet Hale kept her word. Even with boyfriends, she tutored him or visited his dojo after he started working full-time. He needn't have worried.

He hadn't been able to defend her against bullies or be there for her at school because he was younger. He'd also dealt with his own fear of being left behind because of his age. How many times had he wished they were the same age?

A year and a half. Eighteen months. Why did it feel like such a chasm?

"I'm not that much younger," he said grumpily.

Violet shrugged. "True. You're an old soul at twenty-four."

Noah had recently celebrated his birthday. He preferred the months between September and March; then their ages were only one year apart.

But she had a point about the "old soul" thing. They were both more mature than most their age.

Kaleb wasn't like that, which was why Noah was closer to his twin brother. When not playing baseball, Kaleb did all sorts of things young people did.

He'd gotten in minor trouble with his coach for partying too much in college, but couldn't be kicked off the team—he was the best pitcher the school had seen in a decade.

Speaking of Kaleb…

"Kaleb's coming home soon, right?" Noah asked.

Baseball season was over, and he had no commitments until spring training.

Violet nodded, frowning slightly. "He said he'd visit for a week or so before backpacking through Europe with his girlfriend until the holidays."

Backpacking through Europe? Very Kaleb. It was a miracle Aunt Keeley hadn't had a stroke yet.

The real question was why he'd go in the colder months. Though, Noah supposed he couldn't do it in the summer because of his job.

"Isn't that dangerous?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes," she said, scowling. "He doesn't think things through. Sometimes I can't believe we're related, let alone shared a womb."

Noah saw how much this bothered her. When their food arrived, she stabbed her salad with unnecessary force.