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Anne had barely finished spooning down her breakfast when Barnum excitedly ushered her into a large room adjacent to the one she was just in.

She stood, staring wonderingly, in the doorway. Her deep-brown eyes flitted over the arrangement of cushioned chairs mounted up on a boardwalk that arched high over a patch of sand boxed in with a brightly coloured cardboard set.

"This is where everyone will perform their acts," Barnum proudly flung his arms around. "We'll have the dancers over there, the clowns in this corner and the unique oddities centre-stage so everyone can get a better look at them."

Anne furrowed her brow and cocked her head to one side. "Oddities?"

"Yeah," Barnum sighed in near-defeat. "That's what critics are calling my show - a circus full of oddities."

"Circus," Anne murmured, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I like the sound of that."

"So, is there enough room in here for you to do your trapeze?" Barnum questioned, snapping out of his sad reverie.

Anne glanced around the large perimeter once more and nodded. "More than enough. Thank you, Mr Barnum."

Barnum inclined his head to one side in acknowledgment of her statement. "I'll get some of the boys to help you set up your gear and stuff. I've got a bunch of old weights and ropes and hoops in the back room if you'd like to take a look at them? I didn't know what you wanted so I just grabbed a whole lot of stuff on sale from the tip."

Anne let out a low chuckle. "You're very kind, Mr Barnum. I'll go see what I can use."

As Anne sifted through the pieces, putting aside ones that could be rigged up and reused, she was joined by a cheery Charles, who was done up in a pair of overalls and a tiny leather cap.

"Hi," she smiled as she looked over at him.

"Hi. Do ya need some help, missus?" he queried. "Mr Barnum said ya might need a hand."

Anne gazed at him somewhat skeptically. "Well..." she hesitated.

"I might look like a damn doll but I ain't one, aye," he snapped. "Now gimme me that there hoop and I'll show you what I can do."

Anne tried to hide her smile as she loaded Charles up. "I'm not doubting your abilities, chap," she grinned. "Just don't kill yourself, okay?"

Charles rolled his eyes and sauntered, in style, out of the room, muttering a string of incoherent words under his breath.

It took Anne and Charles a couple hours to set up her trapeze set but it was well worth it. When the two of them were finished, they were dusty, sweaty and in dire need of water.

"Well, that was a piece of cake," Charles groaned sarcastically as he chugged down a bottle of the transparent liquid.

Anne smirked as she beckoned for him to hand the bottle over. "Don't drink the whole thing."

Charles chucked the container at her and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "Mm. Delicious."

"Well, this is looking great!" Barnum exclaimed as he burst through the door. "I can't wait to see what you can do, Anne. I'll go grab the others."

"Hold up!" she called after him. "You - er - you all wanna see me do this ... now? I - I mean, why can't you and Charles be..."

Barnum waved her aside. "Nonsense. The entire team is eager to watch. Don't worry, you'll be fine. You've performed in front of people before, right?"

Anne swallowed as she looked at Barnum's hopeful expression. To be honest, no one except for Deng Yan, Miss Patterson and W.D had seen her trapeze routine. She had never before had to perform in front of a large audience and the fact that she had to do it in front of Bec, out of all people, put her on edge for some reason.

"Why, what's the matter, doll?" Charles laughed. "You getting stage-fright?"

"Shut-up, Charles," she glared at him. "I'm fine."

As Barnum exited the room to gather the others, Anne took off her shawl and stepped out of her skirt so she could tug on her gym shorts. As she pulled out the pins holding her hair up, she caught Charles gaping at her from a front-end pew.

"Charles!" she yelped. "You're a grown man! Do I really have to tell you to turn around?"

"But you didn't," he grinned, looking extremely proud of himself.

Oh god.

Suddenly, the door flew open and everyone, including Bec, trundled inside.

Anne couldn't explain why but the moment her eyes landed on Bec's figure, her throat clamped up, her lips turned dry, and her heart fluttered within her chest.

She didn't even know the guy!

Why was she acting like this?

Turning her attention away from the expectant faces surrounding her, Anne stepped out into the middle of the arena and wrapped one of her arms around a rope dangling from the ceiling above. Heaving a deep, lengthy breath, she inwardly counted to the number three in her mind.

Abruptly, she pushed herself off the ground, allowing the pulley above her to run the rope through its mechanism and haul her up. Relying on her past experience, Anne flung herself from one rope to the next until she had reached the hoop that was spinning slowly through a circular tangle of ropes.

Using her weight to push the hoop back towards the ground, Anne flexed her muscles as she let go of the bar and hung upside down. Her dark, curly hair trailed through the air as her head snapped back and her body was flung from the hoop in a graceful, curved back-flip. She landed, with both feet, on a padded mat she'd positioned on the sand earlier and tipped up her fingers in a finishing motion.

Everyone erupted into a loud burst of applause and stamped their feet, indicating their excitement and approval of the performance.

"Well done, Anne!" Barnum shouted. "That was amazing!"

"Indeed, it was."

Anne turned to see the figure of a sharply-dressed, slick-haired fellow who was standing in the doorway. Smacking his palms together, he stepped out of the shadows and started walking towards her.

Anne's eyebrows flew up in surprise when she recognised the clean-shaven, good-looking young man.

Phillip Carlyle.

He was the son of the richest hierarchy in New York. He was a self-driven soul who, at the age of sixteen, was producing and directing his own plays. He was renowned throughout America for his sensible taste in fashion, ladies and politics.

What he was doing here, Anne had no idea.

"Phillip Carlyle," the man smiled and nodded at the gymnast as he took her hand and kissed it with a flourish. "The pleasure is all mine."

"Anne Wheeler," she nodded at him. "Forgive me, but I did not think that an empty museum would be your go-to place."

Phillip chuckled in amusement. "You're right. I wouldn't have been caught dead here in a hundred years. But Barnum over there somehow convinced me to leave my life of plenty and become his junior apprentice. I don't why I agreed but now I'm glad that I did."

Anne pressed her lips into a long, firm line to hide a smile as a few of the people behind them chortled and jeered playfully at the two.

"Alright, alright, let's break it up," Barnum rolled his eyes as he stepped in between them. "Phillip, we have some papers to look over and sign. Let's go. Allow Anne to take a breath after that splendid performance!"

Phillip reluctantly agreed. He followed Barnum out of the room, accompanied by most of the others. Anne, on the other hand, avoided Bec's eye as she, too, tried to scuttle away.

"He's trouble, you know," he spoke up as she walked past him. "I'd stay away from him if I were you."

Halting in her tracks, Anne spun around to face him, almost pleased to see that he was aggravated by the entire situation. "Well, Mr Ivans, the fact that you want me to stay away from him means that I probably shouldn't."

For a fleeting moment, she enjoyed watching the look of bewilderment and anger that flashed over his face. "Good day, Mr Ivans," she said as her lips arched into a sardonic smile. Flicking her hair back over one shoulder, she briskly strode away.

Gif: Anne during her act.

Question of the update: Who is your favourite actor out of these three: Zac Efron? Hugh Jackman? Tom Holland?

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