Page 108 of Just a Little White Lie

She clips out of the room, and I hobble over to my chair, plunking into it and cradling my aching face.

“Are you all right, Miss Fillion?” Trixi asks again.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I swallow, my hand a little shaky as I press it against my mouth.

They stand there shuffling their feet and looking like a flock of lost sheep.

Their teacher is hurt, and their natural leader has run from the room. They don’t know what to do or who to follow.

Sitting up a little straighter, I force my voice as bright as possible. “Why don’t you guys, um… go and get changed. Leave your costumes back in here then…then, uh… head to your afternoon classes. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

They hesitate.

“It’s okay. Please, just get moving. I don’t want you to be late.”

They shuffle out of the room like they’re part of a funeral procession, and I close my eyes, swallowing against the pounding in my head and battling the urge to dissolve into a puddle of tears.

JACK

It’s been two weeks since Lauren planted the idea of running a dance class in my head. Two weeks of stewing on it. Two weeks of subtly asking her not to bug me about it. Yeah, I get stubborn. It’s immature, I suppose, but I don’t like someone telling me what to do that way. Especially when it means putting myself out there again.

I’ve enjoyed hiding in the shadows, having a job where I’m just the invisible man in the background, helping where needed but not front and center.

But I can’t stop thinking about her enthusiasm. The way her face lit up when she suggested I run a class in this dance space.

I can’t stop thinking about how much fun I’ve had working with the Misfits.

They’ll be performing about now. No doubt impressing the school with their awesome skills. I helped make that happen, and I can’t stop a grin from forming.

I smile at my reflection, taking in the mirrors while I keep an ear on the gym nuts in the room next door. Whirring machines, the rhythm of the rowers, the grunt and puff of people working out.

Lauren is going to come home buzzing with good news about the performance, and I can’t wait to hear it.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have good news of your own?

I tip my head, spreading my arms and doing a slick move as the music coming through the gym speakers forces my body into action.

A remix of “I Want Candy.” I can picture the moves so easily. I can see myself clapping my hands and instructing a class as I encourage them to follow along.

I step to the side and shuffle, throwing in a spin before stopping to breathe in the studio smell and picture the room full of novice dancers, enthusiastic music lovers who just want to move their bodies to the beat.

Maybe it’d be okay.

Of course it would!

Enough brooding, dude. Get over yourself!

I click my fingers, bobbing my head to the beat as Lauren flitters through my mind again.

My Candy Girl.

A laugh bubbles in my throat. Can’t wait to call her that. Maybe I’ll do it this afternoon when I mention this song and how it makes me think about her… and her idea.

“Jack?”

I spin at the sound of my boss’s voice. “Oh, hey, Rob.” I walk toward him, pointing over my shoulder. “Just checking out the new space again.”

He tuts and shakes his head. “I really need to get on to that. I’ve been so busy setting up the other gym in Hillcrest that I’ve let this slip right by me. The new room’s finally ready to go, and I’m not even doing anything with it. I need to put out feelers to people in the community, find out if anyone is interested in teaching some pump or Zumba classes. Yoga might be good too.”

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