Page 12 of In Shadows We Dance

I lean closer, until my lips nearly touch the back of her neck. “Too bad. I’m going to tell you anyway.”

The teacher calls on someone in the front row to solve an equation, and the brief distraction gives her a moment to compose herself. Unfortunately for her, I’m not done with her yet.

“Like how you always take the long way home,” I whisper. “Past the coffee shop on Trent. Sometimes, usually Friday’s, you stop and watch the people inside. Wonder what that’s about?”

I kick her chair again. Her elbow knocks her pencil case off the desk, scattering pens across the floor. Heads turn at the noise. She freezes, her face flushing as unwanted attention falls on her.

I wait. Let the noise settle, let everyone look away, before I lean back in.

“Or how about the way you press your hand against the studio mirror after you finish dancing? Like you’re trying to hold onto something that keeps slipping away.”

Her breathing is faster now, every inhale and exhale betraying the panic she’s trying too hard to contain. Her fingers curl into fists on her desk. She’s fighting the urge to turn around, toconfront me. But she won’t. Not yet.

I spend the next fifteen minutes keeping her off balance—silence, then whispers, never giving her time to breathe. Every time she starts to steady herself, I find a new way to shake her foundation.

“Do you like it, Ballerina?” I whisper at one point. “The way it feels when someone is watching you?Reallywatching?”

She flinches, fingers tightening around her pen until I wonder if it’ll snap again.

“You think you can hide. But I see you. Every little detail. Every time you falter. Every time you let that mask drop.”

The teacher’s voice fades into the background, the classroom nothing but a blur of meaningless noise. All that matters is her. Her reactions. Her fear. The way she’s trying so hard to keep it together.

“Tell me something. Does he know? Your father, I mean. Does he know how badly you want to be seen?”

Her entire body goes rigid, and her silence is louder than any response she could have given me.

I let the moment stretch, let her drown in it, then slowly lean back, giving her space just as the teacher turns back to the class. Her shoulders slump, the tension releasing all at once, but I know better. She’s wound up tight, the panic coiled inside her like a spring.

By the time the bell rings, she’s shaking so badly she can barely pack her books away. She shoves them into her bag, papers crumpling in her haste to escape. But the door is blocked by other students, forcing her to wait.

I take my time timing my approach. When she reaches the door, I’m already there, my frame blocking her exit. She pulls up short, those wide eyes finally meeting mine. Beneath the fear, beneath the anxiety, I catch a glimpse of something new … something that just deepens my interest.

Defiance.

“Going somewhere?” The words hang between us.

She doesn’t answer, but her chin lifts, just a fraction. It’s the smallest act of rebellion, but it’s there, and it’s enough to spark something dark and eager inside me.

Her lips part, and for a second I think she might speak, might actually challenge me. But she swallows it down, gaze jumping away from mine.

Not yet ready to play my game. That’s fine.

I step aside, leaving her just enough room to ease past, and turn to watch as she hurries away with quick, uneven steps.

Let her think she’s escaping. Let her believe she can hide.

I’ve spent years watching everyone in this school, cataloging their secrets, their weaknesses, their breaking points. But she’s different. Finally, someone worth my attention.

And Ileana Moreno has no idea what that means.

Yet.

CHAPTER 7

Breaking Glass

ILEANA

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