Page 31 of Just a Little White Lie

Watching the realization wash over her kills my laughter in a second. A flood of sympathy courses through me.

“No,” she whines, swaying for a moment before buckling like compressed steel. I lurch forward, steadying her hips and guiding her down onto the couch beside me. She slumps against the cushions, shaking her head and staring at the ceiling in obvious shock.

“I didn’t,” she finally whispers. “What was I thinking?”

“You seriously put that you’re a dance teacher?”

“I put danceexperience. Lots of dance experience.” She turns her wide-eyed stare on me, then squeezes her eyes shut. “Why did I try to make myself look so good!”

“You…” I shrug. I’ve got nothing. I have no words to make this better for her. I could tell her that she probably shouldn’t have been drunk while working on this, but that’s only gonna make her feel bad.

You can’t change the past. I know that better than anyone.

Another whine builds in her throat, and she starts blinking. “My résumé was a little thin. I had to bulk it up, you see. I had to…” She shakes her head, breaths punching out of her.

I suddenly feel like we’re on a sitcom and I should be scrambling for a paper bag she can breathe into. The image makes my belly quiver with more laughter.

Stop it!

I wish I could, but awkward situations always do this to me.

“So, when you say dance experience—” Unwelcome laughter rumbles through me again, making the rest of the question hard to get out. “—what exactly did you mean by that?”

She bolts upright with a huff, rubbing her forehead and cringing down at the carpet. With jerky movements, she stands, straightening her dress, then smoothing her hands down her thighs.

My eyes track the movement, and it’s an effort to force my gaze to the floor. My lips curl into an appreciative smile that I have no way of stopping.

“Stop laughing!” she clips. “Look, it wasn’t a completely insane thing to add. I’ve been to a lot of clubs, okay? I’m like the Dancing Queen of South Bank, and I can jiggle my ass with the best of them.”

“Jiggle your ass?”

Aw, man, she’s adorable!

I flash her a grin and can’t contain my laughter. “That doesn’t qualify you as a dance teacher, Little Miss Pants on Fire.” I point at her, then let the laughter take me.

I can’t help it. She’s too funny.

Nightclubbing as dance experience.

My shoulders shake, and she gives me a light kick with the toe of her pointy shoe. “Shut up! Everyone lies on their résumé.”

“Ah, no they don’t.”

She opens her mouth, obviously wanting to argue, but she’s…

She’s got nothing.

She lied, and now she’s facing the consequences of that.

I guess I feel kind of bad for her, but hasn’t she kind of dug her own grave on this one?

You did send those emails before she had time to check everything while sober.

I wince, running a hand through my hair and mussing up the back.

“I really am sorry. When I emailed those schools, I was only trying to help. I didn’t know about your rés—”

“Whatever,” she mutters, shaking her head and looking away from me.

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