Page 58 of Just a Little White Lie
When did he come in?
Oh my gosh, did he just see me?
Yep. Yeah. Uh-huh, he did.
I can tell by the look on his face—that sheer pity, followed by the wince when he catches my eye.
Kill me now.
Just slaughter me right here.
I’m on the verge of passing out from sheer humiliation when the bell rings.
“Oh, thank you, God,” I mutter. “Okay, guys. Morning break. I’ll see you back here in twenty minutes.”
They rush for the door, and Jack scores a couple odd looks as they leave. He smiles and nods at everyone but Maverick, who must be flashing him a dark scowl, because Jack’s eyebrows dip into a sharp V as he watches the bad attitude strut out the door.
As soon as the studio is clear, he slowly walks toward me.
“So.” He clicks his fingers, then hits his palm with the top of his fist. He does this a few times, and I watch the action until he’s right in front of me.
I’m too mortified to look up at him, so I busy myself with my laptop. I’m basically just tapping random keys at this point.
“You’re really bad at this.”
I roll my eyes and stand up, crossing my arms and glaring at him. “Thank you for that keen observation. My dignity is now gone forever.”
He snickers. “You’ve got rhythm. You just need to sharpen up your moves. Be confident in what you’re doing.”
“It’s not about me.” I shake my head. “Sure, I don’t like being mocked by a bunch of teenagers, but these guys need to trust me to get them to this competition, and right now they can’t. Why should they? I’m not a dance teacher.” I want to scream the words but manage to check myself. Jack’s the only one who officially knows, and I have to keep it that way.
Rubbing my forehead, I try to ward off the stress, but it’s not working. My fingers are trembling, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to manage this situation.
Part of me wants to drop to my knees and beg. This man can help me, I know he can, but he doesn’t want to, so how do I make him?
“Jack…” I whisper. It kind of comes out like a sob more than word.
“I’ll do it.”
“Please, if you just—” I glance up with a gasp.What did he just say? Please tell me I wasn’t dreaming it.I gape at him, wide-eyed, and only just manage to rasp, “You’ll do it? You’ll help me?”
“That’s what I came here to say.” He holds up his index finger. “Just one number for this competition. I’ll choreograph it, help you learn the moves, and then you can teach these guys. It’ll—”
His sentence is cut short by my squeal, and then I launch myself at him. He catches me, and I wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” My gratitude is coming out so fast my words are basically incoherent, but I can’t stop saying them.
I’m so relieved. Oh my gosh, I’m so relieved! I’m so—
Aware of Jack’s body pressed against mine right now. He feels good, likeI could do this all daygood. I’m hugging him. His whiskers are pressed against my cheek, his hand on my back keeping me up while my feet dangle in the air. He’s holding me and this overwhelming sense of energy—the same kind I felt in my room yesterday—pulses through me.
My breaths get a little short and the Awkward Train quickly pulls into the station.
Like, I have to ask myself—is he holding me right now because he wants to or because he feels obliged not to drop me?
He left my room quick-smart yesterday when I thought he may have actually wanted to kiss me, so…
He’s not into you, remember? We’ve established this.
My eyes bulge, and I quickly let him go. He drops me, and we share an uncomfortable smile that lasts about twenty seconds too long and feels like an eternity. We’ve both lost the ability to speak while we perfect a little throat-clearing, foot-shuffling routine.
