Page 53 of Just a Little White Lie
I want to succeed… and not just for me. These charity cases deserve a win, and I want to help them get it. Then I want to shove it in Helen Kwan’s face and tell her to start believing in her students!
Helen taps her index fingers together, studying me while she makes her decision. After a little lip pursing and a whole lot of tutting, she finally says, “Okay, fine. I will allow this to go ahead, and I will give you a teaching contract until the end of this term. If the dance class can’t be made into a success by then, we’ll disband it, and I’ll just have to find something else for these troublemakers to do.” She shakes her head, so obviously hating this whole charity case thing. But it’s all about image, right? In public, she probably waxes eloquent about how much it means to her that the school can reach those who are less fortunate.
Unbelievable.
I leave her to her dark mutterings and walk out the door, more determined than ever to prove her wrong and give her no option but to genuinely praise these students for their hard work and achievement.
My only major problem right now is making that happen. They need a leader—a dance teacher.
So how do I become one of those?
* * *
I’m no closer to an answer when I walk in Luke’s door at the end of the day. Nothing is sizzling in the kitchen, and the house is quiet. I walk through it with a perplexed frown and find I have the place to myself. This should make me happy. Finally! Some space.
But I’ve never really been the kind of person who needs personal space, and the instant loneliness grates. I take a shower, listening to music the entire time and willing the right song to hit me.
“Just Got Paid” plays and I bob my head to the beat, singing along by the end of the second chorus. Although the song makes me smile, I can’t imagine the dance crew wanting to shake their booties to it.
I tut and wash my hair, wiping the water out of my eyes and leaning out of the spray to hear the next song. I’m trying every dance playlist I can find on Spotify, but I keep coming back to the angst that these Hoofers all want different things. It’s pointless to charge ahead with this if I can’t get them onboard.
“Nightmare,” I mutter under my breath, towel-drying my hair. I’m only in my underwear when I saunter back to my room and come face-to-face with Jack, who crept into the house like a freaking ninja.
“Oh!” I try to spread the towel over me while not dropping my phone. It’s a lame attempt to try and cover my basically naked body, and he just stands there blinking at me. He’s lost the ability to speak, and I’m sure he’s as humiliated as I am right now.
It doesn’t help that “Into You” is playing on my phone. I want to turn it off, but I can’t move, because then I might drop my towel and—
He crosses his arms—I love the shape his muscles make when he does that—and studies me as if he’s incapable of doing anything else. As unnerving as it can be, I really do love his eyes. Jack has pretty eyes.
I stare into them for a moment, and we somehow get locked in this immovable thing. I don’t know what the thing is, but it makes the air in the hallway thick and unbreathable. It makes my heart start tap dancing and my head kind of light.
Jack’s swallow is thick, and finally he mutters, “Put some clothes on, Hottie.” He whispers the last word so softly I second-guess myself that I misheard him. But as he brushes past me and I walk into my room, I can’t help a small smirk.
He called me Hottie.
Which is kind of appropriate because I’m scorching right now. I flap my hand in front of my face and suck in a few deep breaths.
“Hottie,” I whisper and have to stifle a giggle.
Why that makes me so triumphant, I’m not sure, but I hum along to the music as I put on pajamas pants and a comfy T-shirt. Gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I raise my arms and do a little hip-hop move, mimicking one of my favorite dance movies. But seeing myself do that just makes reality slap me on the butt. All the feels Jack just lumped on me disintegrate as I’m reminded once again of the problem I came home with.
I drop my arms and talk to my reflection. “Great. You’ve got one move.” I hold up my finger. “And it’s not even a very good one.”
I need something “wow” and amazing to pull this off. Panic sizzles through me. What have I done? Maybe I should just forget this whole thing and pull out of the competition, but I’ve already told the students. And Tobias smiled when he heard, I swear he did. And then I got a little mouthy with Principal Kwan, and I can’t turn around now and prove her right! But I don’t know how I’m going to do this!
A little scream pops out of me.
And three second later, there’s a knock on my door.
JACK
Ishouldn’t be doing this.
I shouldn’t be knocking on her door.
In fact, I should be packing my bags and moving to the other side of the universe.
Holy hotcakes.I shake my head, capturing the image of her standing there in her skimpy underwear. I saw it all: the shape of her legs, her hips, her waist, her breasts tucked into that cute little leopard-skin bra.
