Page 103 of Puck and Prejudice

Grayson shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot who’s gonna make you all look like amateurs on the dance floor.”

“Hey! Not me,” Chad complains. “I know my steps already.”

Jackson pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can we start?”

Jane and Chad trade a look, and it tells me everything I need to know. Both are plotting to get me back together with Jackson.

Jane walks to the front of the room. “All right, please find your partners and face each other.”

We spread out around the studio. I head to the back on purpose to avoid Jane’s scrutiny.

“Not so close to your partner, Frederico.” Jane frowns at the man. “We’re not dancing lambada.”

“Aww… that’s too bad.”

I wait for Jackson to join me. His expression is hard, and his blue eyes are as cold as ice. I swallow the lump in my throat. Even though there’s no touching in Las Sevillanas, it can get super intense with all the eye contact. Currently, Jackson’s stare is chilling me to the bone.

“I can’t see Jane’s instructions from here,” he says.

“I can show you the steps.”

“But she’s the flamenco teacher.”

I watch him through narrowed eyes. “I’ve been dancing Las Sevillanas since I was a child. I can teach you.”

“So you say. Let’s see it, then.”

I shake my head. Jackson wants to start a fight, but I won’t fall for it. Taking a deep breath, I demonstrate the first steps.

“Did you get it, or do you want me to show you again?”

“I got it. How about the arms?”

“Let’s not worry about them for now. Focus on nailing the steps first.”

“How come everyone else is using theirs?” He gestures at the rest of the group.

I give the studio a cursory glance and realize that everyone is indeed dancing using their arms. Not only that, but they also aren’t floundering with the steps. That means this isn’t their first lesson.

“Son of a bitch,” I blurt out as realization hits me. Jane must have been teaching them for weeks. She wanted Jackson to be at beginner level with only days to go before the wedding soIwould have to spend more time with him.

“What?” he asks.

I debate whether to tell Jackson what I figured out. In the end, I decide it’s best if he doesn’t know. “I got stuck with the dud.”

His eyes widen. “I’m not the dud!”

“Show me the steps then.”

“Fine,” he grits out.

He doesn’t get it right the first time. I didn’t expect him to. But with each passing minute, he gets more and more frustrated about his lack of progress. Surely, he’ll figure out soon he’s the only one who hasn’t practiced before.

“Come on. It’s not that hard. Watch my feet.”

“Itishard. Ugh!”

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