Page 7 of Kissing the Debutant
“That’s not really my problem then, Princess. Feel free to go finish messing up your dance in one of the practice rooms in the back.” He turned on the cleaner, and the whir filled the room, clashing against the music.
The noise pounded in Lillian’s skull, and she couldn’t take it. Retrieving her phone, she turned off the music and faced the boy once more. He ignored her as he started cleaning the floors.
She walked up beside him and yelled over the noise. “How did you know?”
“What?” He looked sideways at her.
“That was I messing up little parts before the landing. How did you know? You’re the janitor.”
He shook his head and ignored the question.
“My jumps were fine.” She refused to let him tell her they weren’t. Only the landings needed work. “If you knew anything about dance, you’d know that.”
He turned off the steam cleaner and faced her. “You know what, you’re right. I don’t know anything, so ignore my advice. But this janitor has too much cleaning to do before he leaves for the night. You need to leave.”
“Wait… you’re kicking me out?”
“Yes, Princess. I don’t know how they cater to you at that fancy academy of yours, but here in Twin Rivers, you don’t get special treatment just because your mom was a dancer once upon a time.”
“You know who I am?” How? Did everyone know who her mom was?
He shrugged. “Some of us turn into pumpkins if we’re late getting home, and I really like being human, so can I get back to work?”
“Cinderella doesn’t turn into a pumpkin, she… wait, you’re calling yourself Cinderella? That’s a little strange.”
To her surprise, he laughed. “It was a joke. You know, something us normal people do.” He gestured to the steam cleaner. “May I?”
She studied him for a moment. How did a guy who looked like he belonged on a surfboard or on a couch playing video games in someone’s basement end up working in a dance studio? It wasn’t her business. She walked to her bag, very aware of his eyes on her. Slipping her coat on, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked past him without another word.
Ordering an Uber on her phone, she lowered herself to the curb to wait, her mind going back to the jumps she’d failed to land. They weren’t complex, but as she’d sailed through the air, her mind never stopped working. Maybe the janitor was right. Maybe she’d tried too hard.
Or maybe she didn’t have it in her to win this competition after all.
2
Jack
Jack Butler would never get used to the stuck up academy kids coming into Twin Rivers with their heaps of money and no sense of the real world. They thought they had it all with their high walls, state-of-the-art facilities, and winning sports teams.
And maybe they did. Maybe they were truly happy growing up surrounded by people who were paid to take care of them while their parents lived separate lives.
It was a life public school kids struggled to understand. Jack had a curfew because his parents had rules, not because the gates closed at a certain time each night.
He shook his head at the ridiculous thought. His family didn’t have much, but at least there was no need for high walls to protect them.
He stored the steam cleaner in the closet and walked from room to room, shutting off lights. He’d worked at Twin Rivers Dance Studio since Katrina bought the place a few years ago. She’d taken pity on her fifteen-year-old cousin and given him a job. Now, three years later, and it was a second home.
He stopped in the last room, hesitating with his hand over the light switch. After going straight from school to the studio today, he’d had no time to stretch his muscles. Getting home a few minutes later couldn’t hurt.
He didn’t need music, not when he felt it in his soul. The notes rolled through his mind, giving him a beat.
He dropped his keys and phone on the floor and kicked off his shoes before stepping in front of the long mirror spanning the back wall.
Rising up on his toes, he bent his legs, testing his strength with a few ballet poses he’d picked up from his cousin. The Butlers could never afford to send any of their kids to dance classes, but Jack preferred to teach himself, to craft the choreography that suited his body.
Jeans weren’t the ideal outfit for dance, preventing him from lifting his leg high enough, but he didn’t let it stop him as he turned on one foot and reached toward the ground with a tiny hop.
A smile spread across his lips. He’d watched so many dancers come through here, and one thing he always noticed was they never looked like they enjoyed themselves. He didn’t understand it.
