Page 30 of The Ugly Stepsister Strikes Back

Football practice seemed to be winding down and Jake saw me. He waved and in that moment I realized that he had been completely wrong about that Mr. Darcy thing not happening in real life.

I watched as he took off his football helmet and suddenly the world lapsed into slow motion. He shook his head and droplets of sweat went flying, glistening against the sunlight. He wore those football legging things, his shoulder pads and a half-mesh shirt that left his six-pack abs completely visible. He came toward me slowly, all sexiness and swagger just like Mr. Darcy, and I thought I might actually pass out. He ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing it off his forehead and I wondered whether I should signal his coach to bring over that defibrillator thing and start my heart back up.

"Hey, you doing that video thing now?"

I had another "gagrsnarf" moment. I hoped I wouldn't drool all over him. "Uh-huh."

"Cool. I'm going to go get changed and I'll meet you guys there."

He smiled again and this time he walked at a regular speed. Which was fine, because I got to admire the back view, which was nearly as nice as the front.

If only I had been Elizabeth Bennet and he had been coming over to ask me to marry him. Instead, I got a confirmation that we were going to shoot some stupid promo.

I guess beggars couldn't be choosers.

* * *

I made one more pass at the lost and found before heading to the recording studio. Did I mention that our school had everything? One of the parents had been a pop star in a former life and had gifted the studio for the kids to do music. The school also used it for the morning video announcements because it was the only completely silent place on campus.

When I arrived Jake was there, holding the door open. "Hey."

"Hey." Darn it, completely clothed. But his hair was still damp and he smelled so good—he must have taken a shower.

"Ella got a janitor to open the door because the key Angie left doesn't work. She's going to find another one."

He went inside and I came in behind him, letting the door close.

"No, wait! Grab that!"

As I explained to my mother, my reflexes were bad. I missed it and the door shut.

And locked us in.

I tried to push down on the handle. Definitely locked.

"Why would it lock on both sides like that?"

Jake grabbed the handle and twisted it, but it didn't budge. "To keep people from barging in while they're recording and ruining the sound."

"Oh." It apparently never failed—Jake showed up and I did something stupid.

I called Ella and she answered on the first ring. I explained the situation and she told me not to worry—that even though Mr. Otterson, the janitor who had opened the door in the first place, had gone home, she would find somebody else to come let us out.

I told Jake what Ella said and he sat down on the floor. "If Ella says she'll take care of it, she'll take care of it."

"That's true." There was nothing good old perfect Ella couldn't do.

We were locked together in a sound booth. Oh my Buddha, this was just like that time onDegrassiwhen Declan trapped Holly J. in the recording studio so he could tell her that he had fallen in love with her.

Reality, reality, I reminded myself. We were not characters on a television show. Jake didn't have some undying love for me.

But how awesome would that have been?

"What will we do to pass the time?" Jake asked in a teasing tone as I sat down next to him. "Truth or dare?"

"I don't think so, Mr. Let's Play Strip Poker."

He laughed. "Come on, we'll keep it tame. No stripping. So, truth or dare?"

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