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She saw the crowd of people and went rigid. “Holy crap,”
she whispered. “He brought everyone.”
Adam was taking long, slow breaths, watching the dancers before them. “Everyone?”
“Everyone,” she breathed. “I told Becca and her mom not to come. But this . . . this is everyone.”
All of Nick’s brothers. Michael’s girlfriend. Layne, and her little brother, Simon. Becca and Hunter. Becca’s mother, who’d even brought Quinn’s little brother.
But not Tyler.
Well, of course not. He and the Merricks hadn’t magically be-come friends. Firing a gun didn’t erase years of hatred.
And it wasn’t like Tyler had reached out to her, even after Mrs. Chandler had told Quinn about his phone call.
Maybe he saw it as just finishing a good deed and stepping aside.
Adam was fidgeting, smoothing the adhesive number against his shirt for the zillionth time.
Quinn put her hands over his. “You’re amazing. You’ve got this.”
“You’re amazing,” he said back. “Thank you for doing this for me.”
She lost her smile. “Thank you for believing in me.”
Then the emcee called his number and their music began.
Once the beat caught her, Quinn felt like her world exploded into color. She knew this routine; her muscles had memorized each leap, each turn, each step, but today everything felt new and fresh, as if the music and the crowd added power to their dance.
Adam’s hands were strong, catching her perfectly each time, and she matched his height, leap for leap. For the first time, she appreciated the power in her body, reveled in the muscles and the curves and the lines. When Adam did the complicated twist where she went airborne before twirling into his arms, the crowd whooped and whistled. When the music and drums reached a crescendo and he spun her so fast she thought she’d take flight, Adam caught her in midair, right on the beat, and froze.
Silence, for a second. Then the auditorium erupted in ap-plause.
The center judge leaned into her microphone and said,
“Thank you.”
Adam set her on her feet and kissed her on her cheek. “You were amazing.”
The judge leaned forward again and spoke into the mic. “Excuse me. Miss. One moment, please. Young lady.”
Adam grabbed her arm. “Quinn. She means you.”
Quinn stared out into the lights. “Yes?”
“Please be sure to have your number on for the solo portion.”
“Oh! I’m not—I’m not—”
“Here it is!” called a male voice from the edge of the stage. A white sticker was in his hand, and he was holding it up to her.
“You left it with me, baby girl.”
“Tyler,” she whispered. What had he—what—
“Please clear the stage for the next participants,” the judge said.
Adam grabbed her hand and dragged her down the steps.
