“It’s too late for the Christmas show. Jennie, you need some work on your acting. I need to feel how much you love Simon. We can get there in time for the Valentine’s recital, though, and that’s the one that matters most.”
He stops and twirls, painting his hand through the air in an arc. “Just imagine: the two of you dazzling the stage on Valentine’s Day, the day meant for love. You put on the most magnificent performance this school has ever seen, and you finish it with a kiss.” He clasps his hands under his chin. “But not just any kiss. The kind where you, Simon, sweep you, Jennie, off your feet, tip you back, and go for it, full movie effect. And the crowd goes wild.” Another spin. “You turn the biggest cynics into believers. Everyone falls in love with my Diamond Dazzlers, and everyone wants to fall in love out there in the real world. And the best part? Ticket sales skyrocket for our year-end recital in April because everyone wants to see the happy couple shine on stage together.”
Simon grins. “Honestly, Mik, I love it. Your best idea yet.”
It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my entire life. This guy has a teaching degree? Someone take it away. “I don’t think—”
“Jennie and I have great chemistry too. We’ll nail it.” Simon slings his arm around me, grinning, all teeth. I’m not a dentist, but I’d love to yank one or two of those things out. They might be useful in identifying his body one day, should it ever come to that.
Mikhail trots away, rambling on about magic and love and chemistry. He waltzes right through the door, chuckling, and I realize he’s as delusional as Simon.
I slap Simon’s hand from my shoulder. “I didn’t agree to anything, and I’m sure as hell not kissing you.”
“It’s a ways away,” Simon says, following behind me. “You have some time to think about it.”
“I’ve thought about it. It’s a no from me.”
Simon sighs, plopping down on the bench as I pull a pair of sweatpants over my shorts. “Jennie, you can’t stay mad at me. Please. I can’t take it. You’re my friend.”
“Didn’t really seem like it when you were trying to shove your tongue down my throat.”
“I made a mistake. I’ve always wanted to explore things with you, and I had to shoot my shot while I had it. We were alone, dancing, and I donno…” He lifts a shoulder, giving me those eyes. “Felt kinda romantic. But I got it: no feelings on your end. Loud and clear. Won’t happen again.” Simon folds his hands beneath his chin, pouting. “Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose your friendship, and I can’t bear the thought of replacing you as my dance partner.”
I roll my eyes and head for the door. “Obviously. I’m magnificent out there.”
Simon jogs after me. “So…a second chance? Please?”
With a sigh, I stop, pinning my arms to my chest as I watch him. He’s not the most genuine guy, but the sad truth is he’s been the only friend I’ve had here, the only person other than my teachers who’s consistently sat and drank coffee with me, talked about more than whether I think my brother’s going to take his team to the Stanley Cup again this year.
God, I hope I don’t regret this. “I don’t give third chances, Simon.”
“Yes!” He punches a fist through the air before wrapping me in a hug. “I won’t let you down, I promise!” He steers me down the hall. “Wanna grab a coffee?”
“Mine will have to be to-go. Carter’s picking me up on his way home from the airport.”
“I can’t believe he’s cool with you dating one of his teammates.”
I fumble a step. “What?”
“Garrett Andersen?”
“I’m not—” My head wags rapidly. “No, I’m not dating Garrett.”
“Really? ’Cause he told me he was gonna put my balls in a blender if I hurt you again.”
I fold my lips into my mouth, swallowing my snort. Okay, so I might’ve given Garrett a hard time about approaching Simon—strong, independent woman and all that—but I gotta hand it to him, that’s a good one. BJ worthy, even. Not that I need an excuse to suck his cock. But it’s fun to pretend like he needs to earn it.
“We live in the same building,” I explain. “He was picking me up on his way home. We’re just friends, and he’s only protective ’cause of Carter.”
Simon’s expression is suspect, but instead of trying to convince him, I change the subject, and he takes off with another hug when he sees the long line at the coffee kiosk.
I shoot off a text to Garrett while I wait for my cappuccino.
Me: Balls in a blender? Really?
Bear: U’d be surprised, but a Vitamix can turn anything into soup.
Me: You’re ridiculous.
Bear: Just prepared to make some fucknut soup if I need to.
Bear: I’m almost home. Wanna bang?
Bear: **hang
I huff a laugh, grinning at my phone. Men.
Me: Going to Carter’s for dinner, sorry.
Bear: sad emoji but I wanna kiss u
Okay, well that’s kind of sweet.
Bear: Oops, autocorrect. **Kiss ur pussy
There it is.
“Jennie?” the barista calls, holding my drink up. His gray eyes move over me, and my cheeks heat when I take the cup from him, our fingers brushing. He’s tall and lean with a messy head of ebony waves, tattoos decorating his arms.
“Hey.” He his head toward the bakery display. “It’s a cold one out there. How about a warm ginger molasses cookie for the road?” He winks. “On me.”
I bat my lashes. “You trying to buy me with cookies?”
His elbows hit the countertop as he leans closer. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who can be bought.” He tucks the cookie in a paper bag and holds it out to me. When I reach for it, he pulls it closer. “Tell you what, though. How about in exchange for the cookie, you let me buy you dinner?”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach. I’ve never been on a real date. The idea is as thrilling as it is scary. I like how things are going with Garrett, but what if I could have it all? What if I could have the pleasure, the fun, the friendship, and the love, all wrapped up in one person?
“So you want to buy me cookies and dinner?” I tug the treat from his hand. “I might be able to squeeze you in.”
His eyes hood, grin deepening, pulling in a dimple in his chin. “I love squeezing in. Tomorrow?”
My stomach somersaults. I tuck a loose wave behind my ear. “That works.”
“Great. Should I pick you up at your brother’s?”
My heart stops, sinking. “What?”
“You’re Carter Beckett’s sister, right? Do you live with him? I’d love to meet him. I can pick you up at his place and you can introduce us. We don’t even have to do dinner. My friends are having a party tomorrow night.” He nabs the end of my braid, winding it around his finger. “They’re big fans of your work.”
My throat runs dry as my pulse races. “My dancing?”
The barista—his name tag says Nate—smirks. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”