Page 34 of Just a Little White Lie

In spite of the fact that he was a jerk, I still used to watch him any chance I could get. When he was playing sport, or just walking around the school with his buddies, or dancing on—

Wait.

I gasp and point at him.

“What?” he frowns.

“You used to dance.”

He goes pale, standing tall and shaking his head.

“In high school. I remember. You were really good. You can help me.” I shove my laptop aside and quickly stand, enthusiasm making me jump a little on my bed. “Yes! This is great! You can show me a few moves, help me work out a couple lessons for these kids.”

“Sorry. Nope.” He shakes his head. “I don’t dance.”

“Really?” My voice pitches up, and I spread my feet for balance, resting my hands on my hips. “You used to be so good.”

His expression crumples like I’ve just hurt his feelings or something.

“Sogood,” I reiterate. “You don’t remember any of your high school moves?”

He works his jaw to the side, giving me a pained frown before shaking his head again. “Those kids aren’t gonna want to learn moves that are well over a decade old.”

“But surely there are some fundamentals. Some—”

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Can’t help ya.”

And with that, he leaves my room, closing the door firmly behind him.

I stare at the wood, more than confused by his reaction.

What the hell is his problem? He can’t just help me out with this one thing? It’s not like I’m asking him to get up in front of the class and humiliate himself the way I did!

“Jerk,” I mutter, annoyed by the fact that I’m back to square one.

Crossing my arms, I huff, wishing my annoyance was slightly more genuine, but it’s being tempered by my curiosity over Jack’s reaction and maybe a touch of concern.

Why would dancing be such a sore spot for him?

I hear a noise from the kitchen and assume Luke must be home with the groceries. I decide to go help him. Maybe he knows something about Jack and why he’s so weird about the whole dancing thing. The guy used to love it. He was always in the school shows and talent quest thingies. From memory, he was the hottest dancer on that stage. If he hadn’t been my older brother’s best friend who made a sport out of teasing me, I probably would have been one of his groupies. I knew plenty of girls who would have done literallyanythingfor him. He was a hot ticket in high school.

He’s still a hot ticket.

So why no dancing?

I walk into the kitchen and give my brother a tight smile. I want to help him unpack, be useful and all that, but I know he has a very specific way of doing things.

“Tell me where stuff goes.” I walk up to the bags.

“That’s cool. I can do it.”

I roll my eyes. What a control freak.

“But if you want to start chopping up some veggies for dinner, that’d be useful.” He puts a carrot, two celery sticks, and some bok choy in front of me, then grabs a chopping board and a knife. I sit on the stool on the other side of the counter so I’m out of the way.

“Tell me about your day,” he murmurs.

“It was okay.”

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