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I nod. “I get it. If I didn’t have a full ride, I wouldn’t be in college at all. But, with the way you dance, you couldn’t get a scholarship?”
She blows out a breath.
“Humor me, Priss.”
Her nose scrunches in distaste for her pet name. “My dad is on faculty here. And no, the dance program at Grand wasn’t my first choice, but it’s decent. It just made more financial sense to do it here.” She shrugs. “I’m not going to let it stop me.”
“No doubt you won’t.”
“I can’t tell if you’re sincere or if it’s this chip I’m carrying keeping me all icy and suspicious.” Another grin, but I can tell my digs grated on her the way hers did me.
“Sorry about that. But you can be a little frigid, especially when someone is trying to apologize.”
“You’re right. I’m just as guilty. The day we met was a shitshow for me as well, so I’m sorry for what I said.”
“We’re cool. And you really are good. I mean that.”
“Thanks,” she says, a slight heat creeping up her face. “So are you, at ball, I mean. But you’re still in need of a personality makeover.”
“Whatever,” I shiver in exaggeration. “Is it cold in here?”
“Shut up,” she says, cocking a hip, making her legs look even better.
We eyeball each other as I unzip my bag and pull out my gloves. She takes a step towards me and turns the tables.
“So, what’s your story?”
“We sharing now?”
She shrugs. “Why not?”
“Don’t really have one. Grew up on a ranch a hundred miles from here.”
“Wow, that’s cool, didn’t picture you as a cowboy.”
“You still shouldn’t.”
“I don’t know. Kinda seems like it’d be a good look on you.”
“Oh yeah?” I grin. “Am I headlining your fantasies tonight in a Stetson and nothing else?”
She rolls her eyes. “So, have you always boxed?”
“I’ve been doing both for a while. If I had my way and I could afford it, I’d be training in both. Ball is more accessible.”
She walks over to where I stand. “So, don’t let it stop you. Are you good?”
“Money doesn’t grow on trees, Priss. College is expensive enough. I boxed a lot when I was younger, amateur stuff. I was pretty good. I’ve kept up with the conditioning, but I put the gloves down when ball started sabotaging all my time.” It’s not the complete truth, but it’s close.
Twisting my torso in a stretch, I crack my neck and catch her checking me out. She’s…cute in an odd way: gorgeous halo blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and nose with character. Her lips are on the thin side but shimmer under a layer of something glossy. Her body and attitude are a lethal combination. I like the sassy personality that collides with the sweetness in her voice. She catches my raking gaze and shies away from my appraisal, crossing her arms.
“Whatcha thinking about over there, Priss?”
“Nothing, enjoy your…whatever.”
I lift my fingers as if I’m tipping a hat and give her a slow, suggestive wink.
Red-faced, she heads to her side of the box.
