Page 31 of Into the Fire

I nodded. It was the best solution we had, so I started from the top, reteaching them everything. We’d worked a solid thirty minutes, me walking through the room and critiquing each one. When I reached Rosalie, I crowded her space like I’d done to everyone else.

“I know those hips move better than that,” I murmured so no one could hear us as she tried to go through the steps. “I’ve felt them against me at the club when we danced when you first got here. Remember? I fought over it with Cole.”

Her cheeks flushed.

I placed my hands on her hips and guided her.

“There you go, LeeLee. Loosen up. It’s just a dance.”

“It’s you touching me,” she answered back, her voice trembling. “I-I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Concentrate.” She stumbled and nearly ate the floor, but I caught her, then pulled her back to her feet and stepped away, knowing I needed to before I took things too far.

Quickly, I turned off the music and faced the group, my heart hammering hard from hearing her words.

“It’s better. Not great though. We’ll practice again tomorrow. Same time. Plan for an additional hour, and for the love of god, practice before then.”

Students trudged away, grumbling, as I went and grabbed my bag and stuffed my notebook into it.

Rosalie joined me a moment later in her leggings and leotard, her body glistening with sweat. She’d been the best one in class. Unfortunately, it still wasn’t up to par, but I knew she’d get it.

She put her notes into her bag and drank from her pink water bottle, her hair up in a wild ponytail.

“You’re the best out there,” I said.

She grunted and rolled her eyes. “I’m garbage. If I’m the best we have, we’re in trouble.”

“You really are. At least you try. These others won’t make it if this is their career choice.”

“I don’t get why we have to do a dance,” she muttered.

“It’s because when you’re performing, you’re not just standing up there. You’re moving on stage. Pop stars tend to have dance routines. It’s just part of the show, and I happen to know you’re going to be one of them.”

She capped her water and stared me down.

“What if I don’t want to be a pop star?”

“What?” I crinkled my brows at her words. “Of course you do.”

She shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve been listening to a lot of rock lately, and I think I’d like to have a band.”

I blinked at her in confusion.

“Like rock?”

She nodded. “I think it would be fun. The lyrics are always so deep. I mean, have you listened to them?”

When I didn’t answer, she sighed as she pulled out her phone and thumbed through it. A song blared over her speakers. A damn good song. Catchy. Growly vocals. Dark. Heavy.

“What is this?” I asked.

“I met this guy at the ceremony with Fox,” she said. “His name is Riley. He sings in this band and has been looking at starting one of his own but can’t find decent enough people.”

“Does he go here?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s at Rotham.”

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