Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 36143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
He holds out his hand. She takes it, and then he pulls her closer. I swear on all that’s holy if he kisses her, I’ll end him.
He doesn’t.
But it looks like he might want to.
Or maybe that’s just me.
He steps back, winks, then walks off.
I exhale a sigh of relief. When did I start getting so possessive of her? To the point of willing to go to prison.
My heart’s beating so fast I feel as if I’ve just been put through choreography on top of a workout after a concert.
I stumble my way down the hall and see her standing there.
I stop and stare at her. Really stare at her. Every single feeling that I’ve been repressing bubbles to the surface after seeing her with my best friend. After seeing him smile, and her grin back at him. It was easier to keep my feelings buried when I thought they still didn’t like each other. I could easily follow suit. But the minute he confessed things to her, I lost all self-control.
I’m officially losing it.
I hang my head as I approach her.
And then I whisper, “I didn’t kiss you to teach you a lesson.”
Her head jerks up. “What did you say?”
The words just tumble out without my permission. I’m trying to think of something else to say that will make it better, but all I can think of is food. She needs sustenance. We all do, and I need to stop thinking about the kissing.
“Let’s keep eating.”
I don’t repeat myself. I’m afraid to.
So, I keep walking.
Let her solve the equation. I said what I said.
She’s quiet for the rest of the night.
And I don’t blame her.
When Haneul suggests that we start having practices together in a few days, I decline. It has everything to do with my selfishness and nothing to do with the group.
I’m clearly off to a great start.
Chapter Eight
Ah-Ri
Practice is brutal, and after both Haneul’s and Ryan’s little confessions the night before, I don’t really know what to expect. Especially from Ryan.
I should have known the devil would show up, and that practice would make me want to fight someone or something.
Mainly him.
The next song had some of the hardest choreography I’ve ever dealt with, which is saying something since I’ve been a trainee for a long time. I fell about a million times.
My ass will likely have bruises larger than my body by the time we’re done, though I have to admit, the choreo is perfect for the fast-paced song.
“Again,” Ryan says, just as out of breath as I am.
Guess the whole confession about kissing me is long gone, and we’re back to being mortal enemies now.
Yay us.
I start at the top, and Ryan dances next to me. I see our perfect reflections in the mirror and hate how pretty yet sexy he is as he hits every move next to me. His hat flies off, and he doesn’t even go to grab it, just keeps dancing as if his life depends on it. So, I follow suit until I trip over my feet and collide with him.
He falls back but catches me.
I grunt, slamming against his chest. “S-sorry.”
“Shoelaces,” he says, his lips close to mine. “You should tie them.”
“Wow, good idea, thanks.” I scramble off him and almost burst into tears. They’re my practice shoes, and I just lost like half my shoelace on both of them.
Going home to my parents and asking for a new pair of sneakers because I’ve lost the laces and have holes forming at the bottom feels shameful, and I don’t have enough money to buy any.
I look away from Ryan because I’m embarrassed and slowly kick off my shoes. “I dance better barefoot anyway.”
Yeah, both shoes are done.
I’ve had them for over five years.
I have never felt more poor or stupid. I can’t even afford shoes now? In front of the one guy who makes me nervous? Who kisses me? The ex-bully?
The universe isn’t playing fair. It gives me my dream and then makes me pay for it in tears every single day.
I slowly put my shoes over in the corner and make my way to the middle of the dance floor.
Ryan’s silent, staring at me through the mirror. I hate that he sees me now. That he sees the vulnerability.
The pain.
The struggle.
The fight.
“Okay.” He nods. “Again.”
We dance for the next hour. I struggle a bit because…yeah, no shoes, but I try hard, and he says nothing, which I guess is a win in my book.
Thankfully, all I have today is choreography while I learn the next song back at the dorms.
We finish our dancing, and I suddenly realize that we’re debuting in a few short weeks and don’t even have a name for our group.
“What? What’s that look?” Ryan laughs.
I almost swat him. “We don’t even have a name!”