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Fuck. I was going to try it. I’d never been good at letting people down, and not even trying would totally let Coach down. Must be some inherent need to please people I’d developed back from when I was three months old and my birth mom had decided I wasn’t good enough for her, so she’d fucking abandoned me with Pick—who’d only been my stepdad at the time—because I guess running off, overdosing on drugs, and dying alone in a dirty, dark alley had sounded so much better to her than sticking around to take care of me.
Thanks, birth mom. Appreciate the abandonment issues. Now I was going to have to take fucking dance classes because of it and end up looking like even more of a loser than I already did.
“Okay, fine,” I muttered, already regretting it. “But Skylar’s class?” I cringed. “She’s been in some dance class or another since she was four years old. There’s no way I could keep up with an advanced group like that.”
And besides, she danced with a ton of hot girls. I absolutely could not make a fool of myself in front of multiple hot girls.
Noel snickered. “No, kid,” he said, his shoulders shaking with silent amusement. “Not the class she’s in. The class she teaches, where she’s been volunteer-helping this summer.”
My mouth fell open, because my sister helped at the dance academy, teaching beginners, like four- and five-year-old beginners.
I was going to be the only teenager in the group, and probably ten years older and three feet taller than everyone else there.
Trying to dance in front of a bunch of hot girls my age would’ve been bad enough, but if I’d put everything I had into it, at least the nice ones probably would’ve had pity on me and admired me for having the courage to try. If I’d been lucky, maybe I could’ve even secured a sympathy date or two from the whole adventure. But this… This was so much worse.
My embarrassment was never going to end, was it?
Screwing up my mouth into a snarl, I scowled at my coach, hissing, “You bastard.”
Chapter Two
Nia
I’d just sat on the rubber floor of the dance studio to start my warm-up exercises when sexy incarnate walked in. Tall and lean, he wore a black tank top and loose running shorts over neon green tights. Dumping the strap of an enormous sports bag off his shoulder, he let it drop carelessly to the floor next to him with a thud, letting the world know he was not pleased to be present.
I liked his hairstyle: twisted curls with the blowout fade.
Lately, my mom had been letting me take on a couple simple haircuts like straight buzz jobs at her shop. But I hadn’t been allowed to try a blowout yet, even though it was one of my favorites. And the way this handsome thing wore it, it was definitely going to remain one of my favorites, too.
He skimmed his gaze distastefully over the row of girls at the front who ranged between four and seven years old and shook his head with a dismal kind of depression before he caught sight of me sprawled out in the back trying to touch my toes without bending my knees. Doing a double take, he furrowed his brows and cocked his head curiously before pointing to the room at large and asking me, “Hey, is this Sky’s class?”
It took everything I had not to snort bitterly and roll my eyes. But I should’ve known he was here looking for her. Of course he went for the stick-slim, perfectly flawless, beautiful type. Typical guy.
Realizing he belonged to someone else and was therefore a lost cause for me, I focused my attention back on my toes I was grabbing as I attempted to touch my nose to my knees. “It sure is.”
“Great,” he said dryly, his voice lacking all hint of pleasure. “I guess I actually found the right place, then.”
When he plopped down about ten feet away, I jerked my head up in surprise.
“Uh…?” Why was he sitting by me? A little flutter stirred in my belly from his closeness, even though, okay, he wasn’t that close. He just had such a big presence it felt close.
He tipped his chin my way. “Are you, like, her assistant or something?”
“Whose assistant?” I asked, all the while wondering why he was mimicking me and trying to perform a toe touch. Poor guy could barely even reach his ankles.
He seemed confused when he answered, “Skylar’s.” Motioning toward the little girls talking and stretching at the front of the room, he added, “Or are you a second teacher for the class?”
“Second…? Oh. Oh. No. Good God, not at all!” I cried, my eyes widening in horror. “Someone would have to be insane to put me in charge of a dance class. I…” Realizing I was about to mention to the hottest boy I’d ever talked to that I sucked at dancing, I drew in a breath before motioning vaguely toward the front of the room. “I’m, you know, just waiting for my little sister.”
“Ah.” He seemed disappointed by that. Why, I have no idea.
I grew even more confused when he changed his stretch to follow mine as I fell back onto my spine and pulled my knee up toward my chest.
“So, where is Sky?” he asked conversationally.
I shrugged. “Don’t know. She doesn’t usually show up until two or three minutes after start time.”
He snorted cynically. “Sounds like her.”
