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He arched a brow. “You’re pretty predictable, Legs. I went by your dorm and you weren’t there, so this was my next guess.”
“Predictable.” I squinted at him. “I’m pretty sure you just called me boring.”
“Not that! Never that.” His twin dimples appeared as he smiled again. “How’s it going? You feel like you’re ready?”
I’d told him about my audition a week ago. It’d been somewhat accidental. He’d gotten me talking about what I hoped to do in my dance career, and before I knew it, I’d let slip that I was planning to audition for a spot in the Pacific Contemporary Ballet. I had sort of planned to not tell anyone, just to keep that extra pressure off myself, but the second I mentioned it, Finn’s eyes had widened with excitement.
I waggled my head from side to side, rolling my shoulders. “Mostly ready. I’m thinking about changing the ending. I don’t know if it works anymore.”
“Huh.” Finn nodded his head thoughtfully, although I knew he didn’t have any idea what I was talking about. He understood dance the way I understood football—he knew what it meant to me and could appreciate the skills it took, but the specifics escaped him. “Well, whatever you come up with, I’m sure it’ll be great.” Then his brow furrowed. “Hey, your audition is next week, right?”
“Yeah. Thursday.” It was during the day, but I’d gotten permission to miss class so I could attend. I couldn’t afford any more unexcused absences.
“You want a lift?”
I blinked. “No, you don’t have to. It’s all the way down in L.A. You’d miss all your classes.”
“I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “And I think we’ve already established I like driving you around.”
“Yeah, but aren’t you having a hard time in American Lit? I don’t want you to get behind because of me.”
“I’m not—” His face dropped, and he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s fine.”
“Finn.” I walked closer, passing the small pink stain on the floor from where Cole had beat up Oliver. It’d become a permanent fixture by now; I used it as a marker when I was working on steps. “If you ever want, I could help you—”
“It’s okay, Legs.” His words came too fast, and the grin that followed was a little forced. “It’s not that big of a deal. And I can miss class if you need a lift. I was serious.”
Frustration beat at my chest. I wished he’d let me help him.
Then again, I wasn’t sure why I was trying to help him improve his grades when the fact that he didn’t technically have the GPA to earn a spot here was one of the main pieces of dirt I had on him. It painted a picture of a stereotypical dumb jock, too stupid to do anything but run around after an inflated ball, losing brain cells every time he was tackled on the field and given special allowances just because he won games for Oak Park.
Finn was more than that. I knew it. But I also knew painting that picture of him would hurt him.
“No.” I shook my head again. “I’ll find some other way to get there.”
He didn’t look happy about my answer at first, but then his face lit up and he rubbed his hands together.
“What?” I asked suspiciously.
“You have money from your mom, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Perfect! Then if you won’t let me drive you, we’ll just have to get you your own car.”
If I had thought Finn was joking or talking about some vague plan for the future, I was dead wrong. He hung out in the studio with me until I finished practicing—which didn’t take long, since I still couldn’t decide on an ending for my piece—then waited in the common room of Prentice Hall for me while I showered and changed.
By the time I came back downstairs, one Prince had become four.
I blinked at them all, my eyebrows shooting up. “You guys all want to come with me to get a new car?”
Finn chuckled. “They’re not here because I made them. I just told them where we were going and they showed up.”
I was a little surprised. Things had been slowly shifting between all of us, but I wasn’t sure if I’d call myself friendly with Cole and Mason. Finn and Elijah had been the two to more actively reach out—but then again, Cole and Mason tended to be more emotionally closed off in general, harder to read. Maybe coming car shopping was their way of reaching out.
“Okay.” I shrugged, then raised a warning finger. “But if any of you make fun of my driving because I’m a girl…”
“We won’t,” Elijah promised.
