Scotty’s tired too, and clearly injured from tonight’s game, buthe’s still here.
We both are, as if somehow, if I nail this one stupid move, my skating and my singing together will magically cancel out the fact that I lied on my audition form and can barely stay upright.
“Keep your weight centered,” he instructs, now skating slow circles around me, watching my every move. “Cross over. Not just stepping back.”
I spread my arms, attempt the crossover, and my blade catches. I pitch forward, fully prepared to fall on my ass again.
Only I don’t.
Scotty’s hands clamp onto my hips, pulling me back so I’m right against him.
His chest meets my back, his thighs brush my ass, and I can feel his warm breath against my neck.
“You’ll get it,” he says.
I shiver, the warmth of his body making my entire nervous system freak out.
Did he purposely husk that out, or am I imagining things?
His fingers tighten around my hips, and I swallow hard.
Because I can feel him.
Allof him… and I want it.
No, Laura.
As much as my brain wants to keep things professional with Scotty, my body clearly didn’t get the memo. Every time he touches me—even the smallest brush of his fingers, the lightest steadying grip on my waist—something sparks low and hot inside me. And suddenly I’m wanting more. Needing more. Craving things I absolutely should not crave from him.
He’s still holding onto me, steady and patient, waiting for me to reset my stance before he lets go.
I drag in a breath, square my shoulders, shove my ponytail over one shoulder like it’ll anchor me.
I refuse to let this stupid, inconvenient attraction to my teacher derail me.
But the moment his hands leave my body, a warm tingle races through me. I grit my teeth in annoyance.
“You’re dropping your shoulder.” He taps my side, and I shift out of his touch.
“I know,” I snap, glaring at him, only it’s impossible to be angry at him because he’s just so nice… too nice.
A grin pulls across his tired face. “Then stop doing it.”
Stop doing it?
My jaw clenches. “If I could stop doing it, I would.”
He sighs, and the sound grates against my already frayed nerves. I can see the exhaustion written all over him—the dark circles under his eyes, the way he keeps rolling his shoulders like they ache, and there’s a slight grimace every time he pushes off on his right side. He’s here because of me and I don’t deserve it.
I’m terrible. I haven’t improved, and most importantly… I’m a fraud.
“Shall we try it one more time?” he asks. “I think you’re nearly there.”
“No, I’m not,” I say, coming out of my position and moving away from him.
“That’s not the attitude to have.” His voice is close enough behind me that I can tell he’s followed me.
I swivel on my foot to face him, only to realize he’s so close, I have to tilt my head to see his face. “I’m being realistic, Scotty. My audition is in approximately twelve hours. If I don’t have a move down by now, I’m not going to.”
