Page 39 of Kissing the Debutant
Except, wasn’t that the only reason they were even in each other’s orbits now? They needed each other. Nothing more.
“Your skin isn’t sticky anymore.” She shrugged, ignoring what he’d said to her. “But I’m afraid your shirt is a lost cause for the night.”
He glanced down at the navy blue polo he’d bought second hand. It wasn’t exactly his style, but something had him wanting to look like the academy kids for the first time, to prove he could fit in with them. “This shirt was probably already a lost cause.” Because who was he kidding? He wasn’t one of them and never would be. He imagined the kinds of guys normally vying for the attentions of someone like Lillian.
They didn’t have to beg and plead for a single night off from watching their siblings while their parents worked.
They didn’t have to count on their friends to chauffeur them around when he didn’t have money for gas.
There were no mops in their hands, no cleaning chemicals drying their skin.
Lillian was staring at him, waiting for him to say something more. He lifted a hand to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. There was only one thing he could say. “Dance with me.”
“What?” She lifted one perfect brow. “We just danced. Remember? Clapping? Cheering? Apparently, the people here like our routine.”
“I’m not talking about performing the steps we’ve learned or putting on a show. Just dancing. No plan, no jumps or ballet moves. You. Me. And the music.”
“I’m not sure I know how to do that,” she whispered, looking intimidated by the prospect.
“Do you trust me?” He didn’t have a right to ask. They barely knew each other as more than star dancer and janitor. But he needed her to say yes, to prove this partnership could actually succeed.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, considering her words, her actions, carefully as she always did. Her eyes never left his face as she saw through him, drawing out everything he was. At least, that was how it felt.
After what seemed like an eternity, she nodded. Slowly, so slowly. As if she couldn’t quite believe her own answer.
A smile spread across his lips. “Good. That’s good.” He reached for her hand, and she let him. “Come on.”
Forgotten was the sticky shirt and the thirst that had them going to the bar in the first place. They walked from the bathroom, past the line of girls waiting to get in. The surrounding crowd faded into the background as Jack released Lillian’s hand. She clasped it with her other one, her eyes darting away as her entire body froze.
“Trust me, Lil.” That was why they’d come, what they needed from each other. A level of trust, of comfort was a requirement between dance partners. But this was more than that. So much more. He reached for her, slipping his hand around her waist. “Trust me.” He pulled her closer, and her body relaxed.
With his free hand, he grabbed hers and brought it to his shoulder.
It wasn’t any kind of dancing they were used to, but it held freedom all the same.
Her hand slipped around his neck, her fingers tangling with the wet hair at his nape. He wondered if she even knew she was doing it.
“Just move with the music.” This was what they needed, a way to get used to each other’s bodies, to get used to each other’s touch. The next sequence he’d teach her of their dance required closeness in a way ballet rarely did.
Her hips swayed back and forth. “That’s it.” He brushed the hair away from her ear and leaned in. “No fancy moves.”
Lillian was built for jumps, to spin until she couldn’t anymore. It was who she was. She needed challenge, but maybe standing still was the biggest challenge of all.
His hand skimmed the ridges of her spine, bared to him. He’d never been more appreciative of a shirt than hers with its open back. She shivered under his touch, but she didn’t pull away.
A new song started, this one slower. Jack pulled her flush against him, his hands floating over her slight curves. In dancing, touch didn’t mean the same thing as it did other times. Well, that was wrong. It did mean the same, but no one admitted that. Dancers used touch to tell a story much like actors kissing their on-screen love interests.
It didn’t have meaning.
Until it did.
Jack told himself he did this to get her used to him, that it was for his video and the emotion they’d need to portray. But the video was supposed to show loveandhate, and he wondered if he’d already lost the second.
He’d never hated Lillian, not really, and he told himself she’d never hated him either. She saw him the way she saw the rest of the world, as something not worth her time. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. One thing he knew about her was she didn’t consider anything other than dance worth her time.
And yet, here she was.
She’d agreed to his video, to a night out at a club. The ballerina snuck off campus at her high security school and now pressed a hand to his chest. Could she feel the heart hammering in his chest?
