Horrible because it smelled so darn good.
Horrible because it made her mouth water.
Horrible because she knew she couldn’t eat it.
Cara looked to Mrs. Callahan. “Taking my break.”
Mrs. Callahan offered her a smile in return.
Lillian expected Cara to walk away and go spend her break doing whatever it was she wanted to do. Instead, the waitress slid into the booth across from her.
“Do you need something?” Lillian didn’t want to be rude, but she wasn’t in much of a mood for talking. Especially not to someone she didn’t know.
Cara seemed to take no offense at the question. “You, dear, looked like you needed to talk.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
The woman laughed, and Lillian wasn’t quite sure how to take that. “You’re an academy kid, right?”
Lillian nodded.
“Then I know for a fact you aren’t supposed to be here. Doesn’t your school have strict no fraternizing with the townies policies?”
A laugh bubbled up from Lillian’s throat. That wasn’t exactly what the policy said. They weren’t allowed to leave campus without permission. “I had a pass.”
“Something tells me your pass wasn’t to come to the Main.”
Lillian sighed and stared into the traitorous milkshake she wished she could drink. “I dance at the local studio. I wasn’t ready to go back to the dorms when I finished.”
“Dance?” Her eyes lit up. “My son is a dancer. I love watching him, but every time he tries to teach me anything, I fall flat on my butt. And let me warn you, when you get to be my age, there’s no guarantee you’ll get right back up when you fall.”
Lillian shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t fall.”
A laugh boomed out of her. “Confidence, I like that. What’s your name, girl?”
“Lillian.”
“Well, Lillian, it truly is a pleasure to meet you. You look like a smart young lady. Poised in a way I hope my little girl will be one day.”
“You have a daughter too?”
She nodded. “One girl and two boys. I don’t know what I did in my last life for the curse of two boys.”
But she loved them, Lillian could tell by her voice. “I don’t have any siblings.”
“I am sorry for that, Lillian. I grew up with four sisters myself. Can’t imagine the kind of quiet you lived with.”
Lillian picked up a fry and examined it. What would her mom say if she knew Lillian even touched the greasy food?
But it smelled so good.
Cara leaned forward. “Are you going to eat that food or wait for it to grow legs and walk away?”
A small smile came unbidden to Lillian’s lips.
“I used to say that to my oldest son when he was just a kid. He spent a good year terrified his food was alive. I should say I felt bad about it, but honestly, it was the most entertaining year of his life.” She pushed Lillian’s food closer to her. “Go ahead. I promise we don’t poison the food here.”
Throughout her entire life, it was hammered into her that grease was its own kind of poison. Dancers weren’t supposed to eat at diners or drink milkshakes.
Lillian was tired of being told what she couldn’t do. As Cara watched her expectantly, she brought the fry to her lips and slid it into her mouth. She tasted salt first and then deliciousness.
Just one.
One bite. One tiny act of rebellion.
She wasn’t ready for the revolution.
6
Jack
Jack wasn’t interested in most subjects. English: bleh. History: double bleh.
And don’t get him started on math.
But videography was actually kind of cool. It let him mix his passion for performing with his passion for creating.
Mr. Garret stood in front of the class next to the screen displaying past projects he’d shown for them to gather inspiration. He eyed the ten students—it was a small class as an elective—and stepped forward. “Okay, guys, by now you’ve all had time to consider your projects and choose the subject of your documentaries. Let’s go around and say what you’re thinking. Mia, you start.”
Jack’s best friend in the entire world, Mia Hart, straightened in her chair next to him. Her wickedly-curly brown hair danced over her shoulders as she lifted her head. She’d been dozing off, Jack could see it in her eyes.
“What, now?” she asked. “Start what?”
Jack hid a laugh behind a cough. He didn’t have many good friends because he didn’t need them, not when he had Mia. He’d known her since they were assigned to the same first grade class, and they never looked back.
She pushed thick black frames up her nose, glasses she wore for style more than sight. Nothing about her made sense. Not the huge personality in the tiny body or the rebellious flare from the bookworm. And Jack loved contradictions. It was why they fit.
Mr. Garret smiled like Mia was the most amusing student he had. The man never got mad. Sure, he was older and frazzled most of the time, but he had endless patience for his students, and what seemed to be a true fondness for the rebels.
Jack was definitely not a rebel.
He didn’t party on the weekends or sleep through his classes. He wasn’t an A student, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Instead, when he wasn’t in class, he was either working, dancing, or taking care of his family.
Mia tapped her pen on her notebook. “Well, uh, next question?”
“Delinquent,” Jack coughed behind his hand.
“Teacher’s pet,” she coughed back.
“Slacker.”
“Pretty boy.” It was her favorite insult for him. She claimed Jack looked like he belonged in California with the other brain-dead surfers—her opinion, not his. From his ear length hair that fell into his eyes to the constant tan he never seemed to get rid of, she wasn’t the only one calling him pretty boy. Though, there was no ulterior motive when she did it. She wasn’t one of the girls in school trying to get him to spend his nonexistent free time with them or one of the guys who thought he belonged at their lunch table.
She was just Mia.
Mr. Garret crossed his arms and eyed them. He was used to their antics by now. “All right, you two. Is it okay if we continue with class, or do you need more time for your lover’s quarrel?”
Mia mimed puking while Jack muttered, “Gross.”
At least they were on the same page.
Mr. Garret smiled down at them. “Since Mia has so graciously declined to let us in on her project, Jack, you’re next.”
“Thanks a lot, Mia,” he groaned.
She grinned. “You’re very welcome, my dearest friend.”
“Jack.” Mr. Garret’s endless patience started to wane. “Have you chosen a topic for your project?”
“Dance.” He looked up at the teacher. “It’ll be about dance.”
Unlike the other kids in school, no one in this class laughed at his passion. They knew him more than most because of how small their group was, and videography wasn’t exactly a choice class of the kinds of students who cared what he did outside school.
Mr. Garret clapped his hands together. “That is a wonderful idea, Jack. The point of this project isn’t only to show your passion, it’s about emotion.” They’d all heard this spiel before. “You are supposed to use your passion to showcase the emotion between two people.”
“Like a love story?” Mia scrunched her face in distaste.
“No, Mia. Love is an emotion but not the only one. With dance, Jack will be able to showcase two warring emotions. I love it.”
Warring emotions? He hadn’t thought of it like that. Mia voiced what they’d all thought the project was meant to be. A love story. Even if Lillian had said yes, he wasn’t sure how he’d have pulled that off with her.
But other emotions? Hate. Anger. Rage. Yes, he was pretty darn sure she encompassed all of those.
And she’d said no. Katrina’s studio was filled with d
ancers his age, some who went to this school and would jump at the chance to dance with him. But he didn’t want them. He wanted the best, to use this video to prove to everyone he had what it took to make a career of this.
Not of dancing. He wasn’t dedicated enough for that, wasn’t willing to sacrifice everything else.
Instead, he wanted to be a choreographer. He’d studied so many types of dancing, trying out different moves himself. As he sat through school, steps crafted themselves in his mind. Sometimes it was all he could think about.
To this point, he’d only choreographed dances for himself, but he knew he could do more. It would be hard to work on both the video and a dance for Lillian’s competition, but he was prepared to focus on nothing else if it meant she’d dance with him.
The girl insulted him, she’d looked down on him. But he’d heard the way her mom spoke to her, and he knew something in her wanted to prove herself. All she needed was a chance to do that. Wasn’t that what anyone needed?
He refused to believe she was as cold as she tried to seem.
Jack’s classmates spoke of their plans for the project, and Mr. Garret showed proper excitement for each one. When it circled back around to Mia, she sighed. “Yeah, okay, I know what I’m doing. I just didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition.”
Jack shot her a grin. “You know what that is?”
“Shut up.” She stuck out her tongue before turning her attention on Mr. Garret. “I am going to make a sex tape.”
Silence.
The only response anyone could muster.
Mr. Garret’s face went red, and even Jack looked to Mia like he’d never seen her before.
“Oh my gosh,” she yelled. “I’m kidding. Wow… apparently you have little faith in me, Mr. G. Relax, I haven’t decided what my video will be, but I promise it’ll be as innocent as puppy dogs and rainbows.”
The bell rang, signaling their chance to escape.
Mr. Garret closed his eyes and muttered an almost inaudible “Thank you.”
Jack couldn’t hold back a laugh as he gathered his books and followed Mia into the hall. “Mia, you can’t say sex tape to Mr. Garret.”
She slid an arm around his shoulders, which was quite the feat, considering how much shorter she was than him. “Duck down lower so I can give you a noogie.”
He batted her arm away.
A laugh escaped her. “Someone has to keep things interesting around here.” They stopped at his locker, and he turned the dial to unlock it.
“I don’t think that class is boring.” He shoved his books inside, pulling out his jacket.
“Of course, you don’t.” She leaned against the lockers. “You’re so predictable, Jacky.”
“Am not.” He slammed his locker and looked at her. “Am I?”
A grin slid across her lips. “Dance? Really? Everyone knew that was what your video would be about.”
“Yes, but this time it won’t only be me. I need a girl to dance with me.”
“Nope.” She backed away. “No way are you getting me into one of those tight prissy outfits.”
Mia actually wasn’t half bad at dancing, but she’d quit a few years ago. “I actually wasn’t thinking about you. I have a girl in mind.” They reached her locker, and she fiddled with it to get it open.
“Oh? Do tell? Please say it’s juicy.”
Juicy? Lillian? He laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Mia closed her locker.
“Just… the girl I have in mind. She’s a ballerina.”
Mia rolled her eyes. She’d taken one ballet class when they were younger and decided modern dance was more her speed. Jack could hold his own in ballet, but he was strictly self-taught. He did like to incorporate some moves into his routines though. “Let me guess, she never eats and walks around like she has a stick up her—”
“Mia.” Jack shook his head and started off down the hall. Working at the dance studio, he’d seen many types of dancers come through. Mia seemed to think all ballerinas were the same, but Jack refused to believe that.
She jogged after him. “I’m sorry. Look, if you think this girl will help the video, go for it. Just don’t fall in love with her, because those types of girls will never choose you over dance.”
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his side. “No one here is planning on falling in love.” Least of all with Lillian Preston. He almost laughed at the thought. The girl clearly didn’t even like him.
“It’s never planned.” Mia looked up at him. “And every girl falls in love with you, Jack. So be careful.”
He laughed. “Except you.”
“Well, duh. But only because I’ve seen you do some seriously gross stuff as a kid. There’s no way I could fall in love with you.” She shoved him away from her with a laugh as they reached her car.
“Well, I don’t have to worry about it because this girl hates me.”
Mia stared at him as they climbed into the car. “No one hates you. You’re seriously un-hateable.”
“Not a word.” He grinned. “But try telling that to Lillian Preston.”
Mia shivered. “Even the name sounds pretentious.”
Jack sighed, not wanting to reveal the one other big piece of information about her, but he couldn’t keep it to himself. “She’s an academy kid.”
Mia turned in her seat to face him. “Bro, that’s… ugh, no wonder she hates you. The academy kids think we’re savages or something.”
“Well, you are.”
She flipped him off as she turned the key in the ignition. “Well, you don’t need this Lillian. You’ll find someone else. Someone who isn’t me.”
But that was the problem. He didn’t want anyone else. Lillian was perfect for the role he had in mind.
He didn’t have much, but he had a best friend and a family he’d do anything for. They were short on money but never short on the things that were worth so much more. In his video, he would be joy, happiness, love.
And Lillian… Maybe anger didn’t fit her. That wasn’t right. He saw something else in her, something sad.
If he convinced her to say yes, she would embody desperation.
7
Lillian
Her mother really was going to kill her this time. Lillian willed the Uber driver to pick up the pace, despite the rain coming down in a torrent. Her last class of the day ran late, and her Uber driver was held up at the security gate.
Lillian was supposed to meet with the new choreographer her mother had hired, and she’d wanted to get to the studio early enough to warm up first. Now she was barely going to make it on time.
“Finally made it.” The driver flashed her a smile in the rearview mirror. “Next time I’ll know how to handle security at that fancy school of yours.”
“Thanks,” Lillian muttered as she stepped onto the curb outside the Twin Rivers studio on Main Street. She grabbed her bag and slammed the car door, darting into the deluge and ducking under the leaky awning in front of the studio. They were closed to the public on Wednesdays, but she and a few other advanced students were allowed to come in for practice. Lillian wiped the rain streaming into her eyes and banged on the front door.
“Come in, come in, don’t drown out there!” Katrina held the door open for her. “I was just heading out, but it looks like I’m going to have to swim to my car.” Katrina ducked into the downpour with a wave over her shoulder.
“Good luck!” Lillian called behind her, shaking the rain from her hair. The front studio was dark and quiet. She still had time to prepare herself for what was coming. She had no idea who her mother had hired, but she was certain whoever it was would be just like having her mother for a coach. Someone old school who wouldn’t let her step a toe away from her classical training.
Lillian looked down at the puddle forming around her feet and went in search of a towel. The last thing she needed was to look like a drowned rat when the choreographer showed up.
She grabbed a stack of hand towels fro
m the hall closet and rushed in the bathroom to shed her wet school clothes. She emerged a moment later, dressed in a black leotard and white tights with her favorite, well-worn ballet slippers on her feet.
As Lillian towel dried her hair, the sound of music reached her ears from one of the studios down the hall. It wasn’t often she heard contemporary music in a ballet studio. More often than not, the Swan Lake soundtrack played on a loop here. This music was definitely not Swan Lake, and it was way too loud. Marching down the hall, she was about to tell them off when she caught sight of Jack.
Jack dancing.
With his shirt off.
Jack dancing well with his shirt off. His ever-present steam mop stood propped in the corner.
Lillian took a step back into the shadows to watch. He moved with the kind of elegant grace that couldn’t be taught. Who knew the janitor was a better dancer than half the students who came here to learn?
He was brilliant. With so much raw talent. Untrained for sure, but he made up for it with his creativity. She’d never seen anyone dance like him with so much joy. He’d created his own style with subtle influences of ballet, hip-hop and even a hint of jazz. She could watch him all night.
“Hello?” An irritable knock sounded at the front desk.
Lillian quickly swept her damp hair up into a perfect bun and went to meet her new teacher. Ducking through the curtain, her shoulders fell when she saw the man leaning against the counter.
“Claude Mallery.” The thin balding French man held his hand out, gazing around the studio with disdain. “My reputation precedes me, I am sure. You are Lillian Preston, yes?” He eyed her from head to toe.
“Yes.” Lillian stood straight with her feet turned out. Her body responded to the situation with muscle memory, despite the churning nerves swarming in her stomach.
Claude’s reputation did indeed precede him. He was one of the best private choreographers in the country, and he was in high demand. She should be honored someone like him wanted to teach her, but his methods were strict and a concern to much of the industry. He was known for teaching only the most talented students, but those students often suffered under his tutelage. Did her mother really think she needed such an extreme disciplinarian?
Kissing the Debutant (The Dangers of Dating a Diva Book 3) Page 5