Page 16 of On Dancer
“Oh.” Alexander’s posture gave the barest hint of a slump, the only clue he might be disappointed. “No rehearsal with Victoria.”
“I have a proposition for you instead.” I spoke fast, hoping to take advantage of his regret before he replaced it with more indifference. “And it won’t require dance clothes.”
“More promo work?” He pursed his perfect lips.
“Not that. You need a night off prep. We all do.” My personal mission to introduce Alexander to the concept of rest and play continued, and I warmed to my latest idea. “I have my monthly play group forOdysseytonight. Newcomers are always welcome. You need to get out.”
“I’m hardly ready to play against serious gamers.” Alexander let out a groan, but that wasn’t a no.
“You beat me last night. Twice.” I could sense possible victory, and I wasn’t about to give up now. “This is a casual group. Not at all intimidating.”
“I’m not intimidated.” Alexander puffed up at the very idea, exactly as I’d intended. When a mere request wouldn’t work, a dare usually did the trick.
“Then come.” I was careful not to smile or reveal how pleased I was at the success of my strategy. “When was the last time you socialized outside of your dance circles or a family event?”
“It’s been a while.” He wiggled his jaw from side to side, clearly considering. “Are all the players as young as you?”
“You’re not that ancient.” I was tired of him acting like our age difference was several generations instead of not much more than my siblings and me. “And we have a wide variety of ages. We’ve got everyone from barely out of high school to a retired couple who brings us treats.”
“Treats?” Alexander tilted his head before draining the last of his coffee. “There’s food in addition to the gaming?”
“Of course.” I laughed. Alexander clearly needed more nerdy friends. “Not exactly professional athlete-level nutrition, but Irma promised maple whoopie pies this month.”
“Hmmm. I’m bored with things I can microwave in the kitchenette at my parents’ place, but if I complain, my mother will insist on feeding me.” Alexander threw his empty cup in the trash with a well-aimed toss.
“The horrors.” I probably should encourage him to spend more time with his family, but if his aversion to family dinners got him to game night, I was happy to use any excuse. “Surely there’s room in your nutrition plan for a cheat night? The maple whoopie pies truly are amazing.”
“It’s been years since I had a whoopie pie.” Interest flickered in Alexander’s blue eyes at the thought of the regional treat. “I suppose I could make an appearance.”
“Excellent.” My victory tasted like pumpkin spice and maple, a sweet success, and I allowed myself to beam at him. “I’ll text you the address, but it’s near the ballet school. If you park there, we can walk over together.” As soon as I made the offer, I reconsidered. Did that sound too much like I was proposing a date? I hoped not. The last thing I needed was Alexander gettingwind of my crush, so I quickly added, “That way I can introduce you around.”
“Will you bring the deck I beat you with last night?” Alexander asked in an offhand tone, but his intent stare revealed he had a bit more than a passing interest in playing. And winning. I did enjoy his competitive streak.
“Of course. You’ll have fresh victims to wax with your relentless attack strategy.”
“It works.” Alexander gave an easy shrug right as the third graders finally came trooping down the hall.
“I’m telling you, you’ve got real potential as a player.” I had to get one last bit of encouragement in.
“I suppose we shall see.” Alexander was back to a bored tone, attention already shifting to the kids and his upcoming demonstration. I, however, remained solely focused on him, almost missing Mr. Davis motioning at us.
“Okay, they’re ready for you.”
Mr. Davis ushered us into the gym. I wasn’t sure my play group was ready for the Alexander Dasher experience, let alone my ever-hopeful heart, but those doubts weren’t enough to stop the anticipation thrumming through me.
Nine
Développé:a slow unfolding of the leg, extending to one hundred and twenty degrees to the front, side, or back.
Alexander
For the first time in my life, I approached the Hollyberry Ballet School with no small amount of dread. What was I thinking agreeing to some sort of gamer party? I’d been playing this game for under two weeks. Now I was about to show off my lack of skill to total strangers? Clearly, my time back home had gone from boredom to bonkers, a fact underscored by Rudy emerging from the building’s back entrance carrying what appeared to be all his worldly possessions in no less than four bags.
“What’s with the luggage?” I stamped my feet against the evening chill. I’d changed from our school visit earlier, and I’d never confess how long picking out a shirt had taken me. Lacking Rudy’s endless supply of geek-themed T-shirts, I’d ended up with a basic blue pullover and a growing stack ofdoubts. Rudy juggled his many bags as he made his way to me. Not wanting him to injure something, I relieved him of the two larger bags. “And give me those.”
“Deck boxes, dice collection, play mats, the usual assortment of game stuff.” Rudy gestured at the bags I now held before holding up the other two. “And these are my contributions to the snack table.”
“Wait. Was I supposed to bring food?” I undoubtedly sounded rather cranky in addition to clueless. I should have known the gathering was a potluck. In my defense, in my parents’ world, a party usually meant catered, but I loathed the idea of showing up empty-handed.
