She leapt and spun, moving across the floor like it was a lake and she was the swan, even though in my head, that sounded ridiculous and a little too sappy—even for me. But there was no other way to describe it.
I could have stayed there and watched her for hours. I had no idea how much time actually passed before she took off running—but not like a line backer was coming after her type of running, this was graceful and delicate—only to stop suddenly. Almost as if at the end of the dancefloor, someone was supposed to be there to catch her and lift her up.
But she was alone.
She sighed and then giggled as she opened her eyes. I felt frozen, standing there, waiting for her to see me. I knew I should have run away. Left and never looked back. I mean, what kind of creep just stands there, watching a girl dance?
Apparently, me.
Before I could get my brain to command my legs, she turned and her gaze landed on me. It was strange, but suddenly, she seemed to be timid. Her body curled in on itself and she began shielding her body like I’d just walked in on her naked.
Collette’s cheeks turned beet red as she glared up at me. “What are you doing here?”
FOUR
COLLETTE
This was bad. This was so very very bad.
What the holy loving crap was Ethan doing here? Staring at me with that goofy smile? How long had he been here? What had he seen?
I glanced down quickly as if to make sure that what I was wearing was indeed what I was wearing.
Yep. A leotard. And tights.
Well, Ethan now knew everything. Every lumpy, rolly detail of my life he was now privy to. There wasn’t a part of my body that he wasn’t intimately aware of now.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to curse. I wanted to hate him for interrupting my me-time. It felt as if he’d walked in on me while I was showering and instead of leaving, he decided it was best to just stand there and stare.
Every girl’s dream. Exposing herself to a hot guy onlyto have her true self be so hideous that all he could do was gawk. Like I was a specimen in the circus.
I took the stunned look on Ethan’s face as my cue to leave. Reaching down, I grabbed my hoodie, threw it on, and hurried from the room.
Just when I thought I’d cleared the door, a hand wrapped around my arm and suddenly, I was being dragged back into the studio. I moved to speak, but I was too shocked.
One, that Ethan could actually move me. I knew he was strong, but I didn’t think he wasthatstrong.
Two, he didn’t seem disgusted. Instead, he looked intrigued as he stared down at me.
I knew I should have been worried when I heard the sound of the studio door click shut. I should have run screaming from the room. I didn’t know this guy. He could be a predator for all I knew.
But the realization that if I did run screaming, it would draw Mom’s attention and then she’dknowthat I was hiding out, dancing in the studio slammed into me. If Mom found out that would only elicit a long talk about body image and the expectations of a dancer. And I couldn’t go down that path. Not again.
So I’d brave it out with this Ethan guy and just hope I could outwit him if he had some devious plot planned. It was already established that in a battleof strength, I would lose.
“What…I mean…how…” Ethan’s stammering was sort of adorable. His cheeks were pink and his eyes wide. I could see flecks of yellow in his dark brown irises. They intrigued me and I found myself leaning in to get a better look.
Until I realized that I was the one leering, so I forced myself to pull away.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, tired of standing there, trying to decipher if Ethan was going to make fun of me or not. Ethan cleared his throat and then blinked a few times as if that was all it took to knock him from his stupor. His smile turned sheepish as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
“Sorry,” he said.
Goosebumps rose up on my skin as I took in the depth of his voice and the way it sounded like he was flirting but in a stealth, James Bond sort of way. Which was so ridiculous to even think. Ethan didn’t flirt with girls like me. He flirted with the Biancas of the world.
And then I felt stupid. Of course. That’s why he was here. He was looking for Bianca.
“She’s not here, you know,” I said as I reached down and began to zip up my hoodie. I was trying to ignore the hurt that made my chest feel too tight. When did I become the sort of person that obsessed about a guy and what he thought about me?
