Page 8 of Kissing the Debutant
For him, dancing was freedom, joy. He’d never tell the kids at school how much he loved it, or that he wished there was a future in it for him, but that wouldn’t stop him from dancing any chance he got. It was who he was.
Running three paces, he imitated the jump Lillian Preston hadn’t been able to land cleanly. The impact of the landing reverberated up one leg before he launched into another move.
When Lillian danced, no one could take their eyes from her. Jack wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d watched her in Katrina’s classes many times. She exuded strength and more grace than he’d ever seen, but it was a refined sort of grace. She was like one of those million-dollar horses, bred to perfection.
He laughed to himself at the comparison. Okay, she wasn’t a horse. She was beautiful in a china-doll like way. Flawless skin with immaculate makeup, blond hair pulled away from warm hazel eyes—the only warm thing about her.
There was something… cold about her dancing, a lack of emotion. It was like she went through the steps, doing what was expected of her, and expecting textbook perfection every time.
But dancing wasn’t about perfection. Not to Jack. It was about feeling, about expression. Even in ballet.
His precise movement transformed into a more modern style, combining the emotion of hip-hop with the grace and strength of ballet. This transitional style was what he loved, a kind of dance he’d created himself. Jack planned each step, crafting his own moves.
Could a girl like Lillian ever pull off these steps?
Or would she be lost without her rigid structure?
It didn’t matter. Nothing else did while he danced.
By the time he finished, sweat streaked through his hair, and he pushed it out of his face, breathing hard.
Ringing filled the silence, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone. Swiping it off the floor, he answered.
“Hey, mom.”
“Jacky.” His mom sounded tired as she normally did. “Are you almost done with work?”
“Yeah, I can head home at any time.”
“Good. I have to get going soon, so I need you home.”
“On my way.” He picked up his keys and hung up.
On his way out, he finished turning off the lights and flipped the sign to closed before locking the front door and exiting out the back. Crossing the dark parking lot to a beat up old Jeep, he climbed in. For years, Jack had saved every penny he earned to buy his Jeep, and he loved it.
It took only a few minutes to cross the river to his house. As he walked through the front door, noise assaulted him in the form of his five-year-old sister, Alexis, and seven-year-old brother, Wyatt.
“Jacky,” Alexis yelled. “Wyatt ripped the head off my Elsa barbie.”
“Did not,” Wyatt called back.
Jack left his keys on a hook by the front door and walked past his brother and sister into the small three-bedroom house. “Where’s mom?”
“Here.” His mom hurried out of her bedroom while buttoning up her uniform. “Good to see you, kid.” She kissed the side of his head. Between Jack’s job, school, and his mom’s work, he hadn’t seen her for more than a minute or two in days. She worked doubles on the weekend, even though his dad had been in town for a short stay between his long-haul drives as a trucker.
“I thought you were off tonight, Mom.” He shrugged off his coat and hung it in the front closet.
She gave him a tired smile. “I was, but someone called in sick at the diner, and they asked if I wanted the extra shift.”
His mom never said no to extra shifts. His dad drove a truck when he could get the work, and his mom worked at the Main, a local treasure of a diner. It meant the family got by, barely.
He retrieved his mom’s coat and held it out to her.
She smiled in thanks and took it. “I’m sorry this falls to you again tonight.”
He knew whatthiswas. Parenting. Being there for his brother and sister. At eighteen, he was practically raising the two little hellions. He looked back to where they were still fighting and laughed. “I can handle them.”
His mom brushed her thumb over his cheek. “I know you can. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll bring pancakes from the diner.”
