Page 46 of Just a Little White Lie

I lean against the counter, my eyes narrowing as I think of Jack.

I know he has this thing about dancing, but surely he’ll help me in my hour of need. He’s not heartless, right?

Chewing my lip, I head into the living room and crouch down by the bookshelf.

“What are you looking for?” Luke asks over his shoulder.

“The yearbooks from high school. Do you have them?”

“Yeah, bottom shelf.”

I spot them as soon as he says it and grab a stack of five.

“What do you need them for?” He turns, his curious gaze kind of annoying, but I just smile at him and shrug.

“No reason.”

He doesn’t believe me, and he shouldn’t. I dart out of the living room and pause in the hallway to find what I’m looking for.

It takes me a couple minutes, but I finally come across the pages I want.

Jack dancing onstage.

Jack and his crew holding a trophy and smiling at the camera.

“The Jack Hammers,” I read his team name out loud and can’t help a soft snort. And he thinks Hoofers is bad.

Brushing my index finger over his photograph, I stare at the image and pray to God this will work. I need his help. I can’t enter these kids in a competition and then fail them by taking them unprepared. They’re going to have to be sharp and in sync with amazing moves that will wow the judges. If they make it into the top three, they get automatic entry into the North Island competition. That’s huge! And would definitely help boost their confidence and sense of value. Surely it will.

Rushing down to Jack’s room, I knock twice and open the door. He never waits for my welcome, so why should I wait for his? He’s stretched out on his bed, resting on his elbow and still reading that magazine. Oh yeah, and did I mention he’s now shirtless?

My mouth pools with instant desire. Before I can stop it, my tongue rolls over my lower lip, followed by my scraping teeth. Holy hotness, he is divine!

“Can I help you?” His sharp gaze hits me, and I pull my shoulders back, trying to act as though he doesn’t affect me in the slightest.

Because he doesn’t.

Because he’s annoying.

And I don’t like him that way.

“Earth to Lauren.” He waves his hand in the air, and I’m suddenly conscious of the fact that I have yet to respond to his question.

But… “You called me Lauren.” I grin.

He snickers. “Sorry, I meant to say ‘Earth to Space Cadet.’”

My withering look scores me a laugh, and I step into his room before I lose my nerve. “I need your help.”

“What with?”

“Dance moves.”

He sighs and slaps his magazine closed. “We’ve been over this.”

“I just need a starting point. I don’t know anything about choreography! And you do! Look at these.” I flick the yearbooks onto his bed, pointing at the photos.

He reluctantly grabs one and stares at the picture, then cringes. “The Jack Hammers? Yikes. I forgot about that. Still not as bad as the Haven Hoofers, though.” He bulges his eyes, and I flip him off. I can’t help it!

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