Chapter Four
Going to orientation was pointless. Izzy had been in the same school district her entire life and had attended Brinson High School for the last three years. If she didn’t know where everything was by now, she was too stupid to be attending school at all. Still, she was excited to see her friends again. Aside from her time at the dance studio, she’d been pretty isolated over the summer. The rich families in Brinson went to cooler places during the summer, and the less fortunate ones had to work.
She spotted Audrey’s car entering the parking lot and took one last look to make sure everything was in place. Black dress and tights, check. Purple hair, check. Dark eye makeup and lipstick, check. Earrings, check. Fake nose ring, check.
Reluctantly, she turned off Robert Smith’s haunting voice and got out of her car. The Cure wasn’t strictly a Goth band, but it had been her mother’s favorite group. When she was old enough to start exploring the house on her own, she’d come across all of their albums in a box of 1980s cassette tapes. At first she wasn’t sure what to think of their sound, but the more she listened, the more their music resonated with her. It was one of the few things she could share with the mother she’d never known.
“Are you ready for this?” Audrey asked.
“Let’s just get it over with. We’ll have to suffer through the obligatory welcome from Principal Sanchez, then we can grab our schedules and leave.”
Audrey frowned. “I think we’re required to walk around to each classroom and pick up the syllabus, or homework, or whatever crap the teachers are handing out to force us to stay.”
Izzy rolled her eyes and headed toward the entrance to the gym. “I have to go back to the studio for a late lesson, so let’s do this as fast as possible.”
When they were about ten feet from the door, the group in front of them opened it, releasing a wave of incomprehensible noise and the faint smell of stale locker rooms. “Clearly, Dr. Sanchez hasn’t taken the podium yet.”
“Look, there’s Stacy.” Audrey took her hand and pulled her through the crowd.
Suddenly, her forward momentum stopped and she looked up into Garret’s eyes. Warmth swirled through her stomach.
“Hey, Harley Quinn. How’s it going?” He winked and moved past her.
Harley Quinn?
Audrey stared at Izzy like an owl, her eyes so wide it had to hurt. “Did he just talk to you…how…?”
“Just be quiet. I’ll explain later.”
“No, you’ll explain now,” Audrey said in a stage whisper.
Izzy glanced over her shoulder. Garret shrugged, as if his friend Elliot was grilling him, too.
“Then we’re not sitting with Stacy. She couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.” After glancing to the left, then the right, Audrey dragged her through the sea of people heading for the bleachers and detoured toward the nearest bathroom. Pushing the door open with more force than was necessary, she did a sweep of the stalls, checking each one before turning back to Izzy.
“Spill.”
“You’re sworn to secrecy.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“I’m blackmailing him.”
Her mouth popped open. “Okay, I admit that’s not what I was expecting, especially considering his friendly greeting earlier.”
Somehow, she didn’t think of being labeled a supervillain as friendly. “Yeah, he’s definitely a player. Anyway, the football coach suggested he take ballet lessons to improve his strength and flexibility, and he hooked Garret up with Miss Jenny.” She glanced down. Audrey would never judge her, but she wasn’t exactly proud of what she’d done. “I saw him with her just after I found out that I wouldn’t have a partner for the fall production, so I recorded part of his lesson.”
“Izzy!”
“I was desperate, okay? After his lesson ended and he saw me, he politely asked me not to tell anyone about it, so I agreed as long as he would dance with me in the fall production. And I told him if he didn’t, I’d play the footage of him dancing on the big screen at the first pep rally.”
“Izzy, you didn’t! Do you even know how to do that?”
She shook her head. “No, but Trevor will.”
“Why would you even want him to dance with you? Is he that good?”
She laughed. “Not at all, but he’s tall and strong enough to lift me.”
“So, what’s happening now?”
“He refused, of course, but I got him to agree to let me keep giving him lessons for now. I’m hoping I’ll be able to convince him to do it. There isn’t anybody else. He’s my only hope.”
“That’s it?” She frowned. “You’re going to give him free lessons and just hope he’ll decide he wants to be a ballet dancer? It sounds more like you’re just letting him take advantage of you for free lessons.”
Izzy winced. “Yeah, it doesn’t sound so good when you put it like that.”
“You at least need to give him an ultimatum. Make him promise to decide about dancing with you by a certain date.”
She sighed. He didn’t seem like a complete jerk who would just use her for free lessons, but it wasn’t like she really knew him, and there was that incident with Jeremy from middle school. Garret had broken a promise that caused Jeremy to miss out on a scholarship to an exclusive art institute. She wasn’t sure he was trustworthy.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m just afraid of pushing him too soon and scaring him off.”
“Is all of this worth it, though? Do you think you can have him ready in time if he does agree?”
“He’s been gaining flexibility as we go, so I’m hoping by—”
“Wait. How long has this been going on?”
Izzy cast her eyes toward the door. “About a week or so.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry. I would’ve, but you were out of town, and then things got busy, and it’s not like I’m proud of what I did.”
“Harley Quinn, huh? I guess I can see that, since you’re so pale and have black hair.”
“C’mon.” She opened the door. “Let’s get back to the gym so we can get out of here as quickly as possible.”
…
Izzy removed the last of her make-up and threw the wipe into the trash. Since no one else was here, and Garret already knew about her hair, she put it up into a ponytail instead of her usual bun.
The bell on the front door jingled, and she glanced up to make sure it was him.
“Lock the door behind you, please. No one else is supposed to be here this late, so if they don’t have their own key, they don’t belong.”
He did as she asked, then turned to her with a frown. “You shouldn’t be here alone with the door unlocked. Next time, lock it behind you and I’ll knock.”
She nodded, not because she agreed to his command, but she had a different bone to pick with him right now. “What was with the Harley Quinn comment?”
He raised a brow. “Why? Are you afraid the nickname will ruin your badass reputation?”
“No, but you’re the one who’s worried about getting outed for taking dance lessons.”
He cringed. “I don’t think me saying hello to you will automatically make people jump to the conclusion I’m taking ballet lessons from you.”
“Maybe not, but it’ll make them wonder why the golden boy is talking to the freak.”
“Nobody thinks you’re a freak. Mostly everyone wonders why the pretty rich girl hides behind Goth makeup.”
Sometimes she wondered about that herself, but she doubted anyone else cared. She’d gotten the idea after she started listening to The Cure. The Goth style kept people from asking for favors from her dad. Most people ignored her because of how she looked. “That’s none of their business.”
He held his hands up. “I wasn’t asking.” His eyes raked over her. “What happened to the piercings? At school you’ve got stuff all along the outside of your ears and on your nose. Shouldn’t there be holes all over?”
She crossed her arms. “I can’t reveal my secrets.”
“I think we’re way past that point in our relationship. Come on. I won’t tell anybody.”
She bit her lip, hesitant to give him any more information he could use against her. “They’re clip-ons along my ears, and the one on my nose is a disposable jewel sticker.”
He leaned in for a closer look. “How is that possible?”
She shrugged. “People see what they want to see. Let’s stretch now.”
He did as she said, but the silence got uncomfortable pretty fast. She tipped her head toward him.
“Look at you. In another week or two I bet you’ll be able to reach your toes.”
“I don’t know about that. Maybe my ankles.”
“Still, you’re definitely gaining more flexibility, don’t you think?”
He nodded. “Is it finally time to start working on more than just the five positions now?”
Izzy straightened and raised her brows. “You do realize that pretty much every single ballet movement involves one or more of those positions, right? It’s really important that you master them before we move on.”
“It’s boring doing the same thing over and over again.”
“Really? Because football practice isn’t at all repetitive?”
“Not in the same way. C’mon. I got this. I’m ready for more.”
“Show me.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. If she taught him too much, he might decide he didn’t need her lessons anymore and she’d never get him to agree to dance with her. On the other hand, she was running out of time to teach him everything he’d need to know in order to partner her. The key was to make sure he kept improving his flexibility enough that he’d want to continue the lessons.
He moved quickly through the positions. Though he hadn’t quite mastered fifth position yet, she had to admit—only to herself of course—that it was time to teach him more. The question was, what should she teach him next that would serve both purposes?
She couldn’t let on that what she was teaching him was for her benefit. For this to work, she had to make him think it was part of his lessons to increase flexibility. Luckily, it wasn’t really a lie, since anything she taught him would help.
“All right. We can work on some combinations.”
“I’m up for anything. This ballet stuff is a piece of cake compared to football.”
He did not just say that. “Are you joking? Haven’t we been through all this before, and agreed that ballet is harder?”
“It wasn’t really ballet that was the problem. Just the stretching.”
“Football doesn’t even come close to being as difficult as ballet.”
“Go ahead, then.” He nodded toward her. “You do a leap or turn or whatever while I try to tackle you.”
What an ass. “Very funny.”
“Okay, how about if you try to catch a football while doing one of your leaps, then.”
“Also off point. Why don’t we try a simple turn?”
“If I have to.”
“You’re going to need to take your socks off first. They’re too slippery on this floor.”
“Yes, master.” He bowed.
He popped them off and tossed them toward the wall. “Won’t my feet stick to this…whatever this floor is?”
“It’s called Marley. I think it’s really thick vinyl or something like that. Anyway, you should be fine. I don’t wear shoes unless I’m on pointe.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Huh?”
“You know, the shoes ballerinas wear?”
“Dudes don’t wear them, do they?”
“No, but they wear ballet slippers on stage. But you’ll be okay barefoot in here.”
“I guess I have to trust you. For now.”
Her stomach clenched. Though it was unreasonable for her to want him to trust her, she wished he would. “Okay. This is a pirouette.”
He nodded. “That doesn’t look too hard.” He threw himself around in a complete rotation. On his heel. He nearly fell on his butt, but she gave him credit for keeping his balance. He might not be graceful, but he was strong. He wiped his face on his shirt. “Why does it look so easy when you do it?”
“Trust me, it’s not that difficult once you learn the steps. This is where I prove how important the five positions are.”
“Yay!”
“Don’t mock me. I’ll make you sorry later.”
“I look forward to it.” He raised his eyebrows in a skeevy way, and she laughed.
“And this time, don’t forget to point your headlights.”
They both dissolved into laughter. It probably sounded pervy to him. Next time she was teaching older kids, she’d come up with a better analogy.
“Time to get serious. Fifth position.”
He sighed like a drama queen and assumed the position.
Moving closer, she adjusted his arms and legs slightly. He was all hard muscle. His breath blew over her neck and her stomach jumped. Warmth streamed off him, and the scent of his cologne filled her nose. She cleared her throat. “Remember, this is one continuous movement. Oh, crap. I forgot to show you how to spot. At ease.”
He raised a brow and relaxed his stance.
“Find a spot on the wall you’re facing when you start your turn. A picture, the thermostat, whatever works for you. Focus on that spot, and look for it when you complete the turn. It won’t matter much now, but when you start doing multiple turns, you’ll need it.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever reach that point. Show me one more time.”
She did another slow-motion turn, then held her breath while he tried. It wasn’t half bad, a little wobbly maybe, but he did it mostly correctly.
“That was actually really good, but don’t sickle.”
He lifted a brow. “Um, what? Sickle? Isn’t that like a machete? It sounds like the murder weapon from a horror movie.”
She giggled. “Different context. Though for a dancer, it is a heinous crime. When you bring your foot up during the turn, you have to keep it straight, perfectly in line with your ankle.” She demonstrated. “If your foot bends to the inside like this, that’s sickling.”
“I think I got it. It shouldn’t be that hard to hold my foot straight.”
He turned again. This time he was even less wobbly.
“Woot! We might have a prodigy on our hands.”
One side of his mouth turned up in a very appealing way. “No thanks. I think I’ll stick with football.”
“All right, but for now, let’s practice it a few more times, just to make sure you have it down.”
“Do I have to?” He frowned. “I’m tired.”
“How about if I do a quad for every one pirouette you complete?”
He shook his head. “That’s not fair. Turns are easy for you. How about if you do five burpees for each of my turns?”
Silly boy. Her abs were probably more defined than his were. She tightened her pony tail. “Okay. You first.”
He executed a nearly perfect turn, if a little slow, and she followed with five burpees in quick succession.
His eyebrows rose, then he did another turn, and she did another set of burpees. After his sixth turn, she finished her last burpee and dropped onto the floor. “I surrender. No more. You win.”
He flopped down next to her. “I have to give you credit. There are guys on the football team that couldn’t do that many so close together.”
He lifted his shirt to wipe his face, and she caught a glimpse of his seriously cut abs. Wowza. Okay, so she’d been wrong about her abs being more defined than his. It took a moment to remember that she was supposed to say something back to him. “Now do you believe that ballet isn’t easy?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Though it seems a lot easier for you than it is for me.”
“Duh. Just like football is easier for you than it is for me. Time, practice, commitment is what sets someone apart.” She sat up. “I’m gonna go get us some water. Hang tight.”
Rushing down the hallway, she grabbed her bag from the staff room and bought two cold bottles of water from the machine. When she hit the doorway to the studio, he was typing something on his phone. Her chest tightened. Probably texting his girlfriend.
At the sound of her arrival, he glanced up and smiled. She tossed the bottle to him and dropped back to the floor.
“Thanks.” He chugged the entire bottle in under ten seconds and settled next to her again. “Do you think we should exchange phone numbers?”
She nearly choked on a mouthful of water. His face was inches away from her. “Why, are we BFFs now?”
“Hardly, but I thought it would be a good idea. You know, in case one of us has to cancel or something.”
Unable to stand his intense gaze, she turned away and got up to grab her phone. She unlocked it and handed it to him so he could plug in his number, and she did the same with his. He had already entered her as Harley Quinn. Though she wasn’t thrilled about that nickname, at least he hadn’t called her The Untouchable.
She couldn’t help it, she laughed when he handed her phone back and she saw what he’d put in for his name. Headlight.