Kissing the Debutant (The Dangers of Dating a Diva Book 3) Read online

Famous people, diplomats, and the extraordinarily wealthy sent their kids to the academy to keep them safe.

  Which was why Lillian needed to return to campus before her gate pass expired. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to go back. Students weren’t allowed to leave campus except in special circumstances—like if their mother threatened the school to allow her daughter to attend dance classes Defiance Academy didn’t offer. No one crossed Daria Preston and got away with it.

  “Lillian.” Katrina crossed the room, a kind smile on her face. The young dance teacher was the only person in this class who bothered to speak to Lillian like she was one of them and not some alien sent from the land of disgusting wealth.

  “Hello.” Lillian busied herself rummaging through her bag for her water bottle. “Did you need something?”

  Katrina’s smile widened like it always did when she thought Lillian was amusing, like something in a zoo. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  Lillian sighed. It was exhausting having someone care about her. She wasn’t used to it. But maybe she owed Katrina something, some bit of knowledge that Lillian appreciated her. “I went to the orientation.”

  Yep, that would do it.

  Katrina’s eyes lit up. “For the Northeast Regional Scholarship for the Dramatic Arts? Lillian, that’s wonderful.”

  Her mother wouldn’t find it wonderful, not during debutant season. Lillian shrugged. “I still don’t know if I’ll have time.”

  “You can make time. It’s for a college scholarship. This competition is a big deal.”

  “I don’t need a scholarship.” It was partially true. She could go to any college she wished. Her mother had connections through her social life in Lexington to most major Ivies. And money was never an issue. But if Lillian wanted to go to college, she’d have to talk her mother into it. Daria Preston had a one-track mind when it came to her daughter’s future, and that future was with the American Ballet Company in New York City. Anything less equaled failure in her mother’s eyes.

  And if she didn’t convince her mom? A scholarship would be pretty darn essential. But she knew how people would view a girl like her saying she wanted a scholarship.

  Katrina gave her a look full of pity. “Competitions are about more than money, Lillian.”

  She remembered everything Katrina had told her before. Competitions were about inner strength just as much as outside validation. Confidence and self-worth. All of which Katrina obviously thought Lillian lacked. “I know I’m good.” She dropped her water bottle back into her bag. “I don’t need other people telling me it’s so.”

  Katrina put a hand on her shoulder, and Lillian fought the urge to shrug her off. She wasn’t a touchy-feely person, probably because she couldn’t remember the last time her mom even hugged her. “You are a brilliant dancer, Lillian. The best student I have ever had. I won’t pretend to think I have anything to teach you about ballet, but maybe it isn’t confidence you need, but something else.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think you’ll learn the answer to that question until you step outside your comfort zone, and this competition could provide you with that opportunity.”

  Lillian stepped away from Katrina. “Well, I’ve signed the paperwork, so we’ll see. Now I just need to find a choreographer.”

  Katrina clapped her hands together in excitement. “I’ll send your mother some recommendations, though I’m sure she knows a few herself. Anything you need, just ask, okay? I’m going to head out, but you can use the studio until the janitor has to lock up.”

  Katrina left her to the empty room, and Lillian could finally breathe. She wasn’t like everyone else—like her mother—social interactions exhausted Lillian. All she wanted was a dance studio and blissful silence.

  Rubbing her hands down the muscles of her bare legs, she warmed them up before pulling a pair of leggings from her bag and yanking them on. In class, she looked the part of the perfect prima ballerina with her tight bun and expensive leotard.

  But here, on her own, she could loosen up.

  She could play.

  Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she relaxed her legs, trying to shake off any lingering weariness from the class. Her eyes skittered to her bag in the corner where the gate pass sat in the side pocket. She looked to the clock above the door. Six PM. She had half an hour before she was late.

  The question was… did she care?

  Not when it came to dance. She bent to where her phone rested on the front desk and turned on Spotify. Her favorite playlist started up through the Bluetooth speakers, and she launched into a series of turns, each one quicker than the one before.

  One. Two. Three. Four.

  Her eyes fixed on a divot in the wall, each time coming back to it to keep from getting dizzy. The music picked up, and so did her dance. Spins were easy. She’d been doing them since she could walk.

  Some of the jumps, however…

  She ran halfway across the room before leaping into a grand jete, her legs stretching into a split, but she came out of the move a half second too late. She stumbled on her landing and cursed herself.

  Too high. She’d jumped too high.

  Yet, she’d wanted to, to push herself to the limit and see which boundaries could be moved or broken altogether. It was part of who she was.

  “Again,” she muttered to herself.

  This time, she didn’t get the height, but she tried to turn as she jumped and stumbled backward on the landing before falling on her butt.

  She could hear her mom’s voice in her head. If you can’t be extraordinary, it isn’t worth doing.

  And what was Lillian? Ordinary? Average?

  She knew that wasn’t true. Every girl in her class wished they could dance like her, but it still wasn’t enough for her mom. It never was. So she pushed, harder and harder, hoping it wouldn’t break her.

  She kept trying until her legs burned and her lungs cried out for air.

  You’ll never be the dancer I was.

  Yes, her mom had said that to her too. More than once. That was what happened when one was raised by a dance prodigy. Daria Preston was revered once, now she was part of ballet history.

  And she’d never forgiven the world for moving on without her.

  You’ll never live up to the Preston name.

  Those words kept Lillian out of competition after competition. She’d never tried, never let herself fail. If she didn’t try to win, she couldn’t lose, and maybe her mom wouldn’t be disappointed in her.

  Then why this competition? Why now?

  She pumped her arms before using all her remaining strength to jump once more. This time, when she landed, her ankle rolled, and she cried out as her leg collapsed beneath her.

  There was her answer. All of this could end at any moment. Just ask her mother who’d had to stop dancing after an injury. For once, Lillian wanted to know if she had what it took.

  “Are you okay?”

  At the voice, Lillian jerked her head up, her eyes clashing with those of a boy who looked about her age. He wore tight jeans with a rip in one knee and a black t-shirt. Shaggy brown hair flopped into his eyes. He pushed a steam mop in front of him.

  “Fine.” She scrambled to her feet, testing her ankle. It didn’t hurt when she put weight on it, and she released a breath.

  The boy pushed hair out of his face. “You’re trying too hard.”

  “What?”

  “The jump. I’ve been watching you. You’re trying so hard to make every element perfect that when one small thing is off, it throws the entire jump out of control.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Sure, and I’m supposed to take dance advice from a janitor?”

  He shook his head and pushed the steam cleaner farther into the room. “I need to clean this room. I am just the janitor after all. Are you done here?”

  She crossed her arms. “No.”

  “That’s not really my problem then, Princess. Feel free to go finish messing up your dance in
one of the practice rooms in the back.” He turned on the cleaner, and the whir filled the room, clashing against the music.

  The noise pounded in Lillian’s skull, and she couldn’t take it. Retrieving her phone, she turned off the music and faced the boy once more. He ignored her as he started cleaning the floors.

  She walked up beside him and yelled over the noise. “How did you know?”

  “What?” He looked sideways at her.

  “That was I messing up little parts before the landing. How did you know? You’re the janitor.”

  He shook his head and ignored the question.

  “My jumps were fine.” She refused to let him tell her they weren’t. Only the landings needed work. “If you knew anything about dance, you’d know that.”

  He turned off the steam cleaner and faced her. “You know what, you’re right. I don’t know anything, so ignore my advice. But this janitor has too much cleaning to do before he leaves for the night. You need to leave.”

  “Wait… you’re kicking me out?”

  “Yes, Princess. I don’t know how they cater to you at that fancy academy of yours, but here in Twin Rivers, you don’t get special treatment just because your mom was a dancer once upon a time.”

  “You know who I am?” How? Did everyone know who her mom was?

  He shrugged. “Some of us turn into pumpkins if we’re late getting home, and I really like being human, so can I get back to work?”

  “Cinderella doesn’t turn into a pumpkin, she… wait, you’re calling yourself Cinderella? That’s a little strange.”

  To her surprise, he laughed. “It was a joke. You know, something us normal people do.” He gestured to the steam cleaner. “May I?”

  She studied him for a moment. How did a guy who looked like he belonged on a surfboard or on a couch playing video games in someone’s basement end up working in a dance studio? It wasn’t her business. She walked to her bag, very aware of his eyes on her. Slipping her coat on, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked past him without another word.

  Ordering an Uber on her phone, she lowered herself to the curb to wait, her mind going back to the jumps she’d failed to land. They weren’t complex, but as she’d sailed through the air, her mind never stopped working. Maybe the janitor was right. Maybe she’d tried too hard.

  Or maybe she didn’t have it in her to win this competition after all.

  2

  Jack

  Jack Butler would never get used to the stuck up academy kids coming into Twin Rivers with their heaps of money and no sense of the real world. They thought they had it all with their high walls, state-of-the-art facilities, and winning sports teams.

  And maybe they did. Maybe they were truly happy growing up surrounded by people who were paid to take care of them while their parents lived separate lives.

  It was a life public school kids struggled to understand. Jack had a curfew because his parents had rules, not because the gates closed at a certain time each night.

  He shook his head at the ridiculous thought. His family didn’t have much, but at least there was no need for high walls to protect them.

  He stored the steam cleaner in the closet and walked from room to room, shutting off lights. He’d worked at Twin Rivers Dance Studio since Katrina bought the place a few years ago. She’d taken pity on her fifteen-year-old cousin and given him a job. Now, three years later, and it was a second home.

  He stopped in the last room, hesitating with his hand over the light switch. After going straight from school to the studio today, he’d had no time to stretch his muscles. Getting home a few minutes later couldn’t hurt.

  He didn’t need music, not when he felt it in his soul. The notes rolled through his mind, giving him a beat.

  He dropped his keys and phone on the floor and kicked off his shoes before stepping in front of the long mirror spanning the back wall.

  Rising up on his toes, he bent his legs, testing his strength with a few ballet poses he’d picked up from his cousin. The Butlers could never afford to send any of their kids to dance classes, but Jack preferred to teach himself, to craft the choreography that suited his body.

  Jeans weren’t the ideal outfit for dance, preventing him from lifting his leg high enough, but he didn’t let it stop him as he turned on one foot and reached toward the ground with a tiny hop.

  A smile spread across his lips. He’d watched so many dancers come through here, and one thing he always noticed was they never looked like they enjoyed themselves. He didn’t understand it.

  For him, dancing was freedom, joy. He’d never tell the kids at school how much he loved it, or that he wished there was a future in it for him, but that wouldn’t stop him from dancing any chance he got. It was who he was.

  Running three paces, he imitated the jump Lillian Preston hadn’t been able to land cleanly. The impact of the landing reverberated up one leg before he launched into another move.

  When Lillian danced, no one could take their eyes from her. Jack wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d watched her in Katrina’s classes many times. She exuded strength and more grace than he’d ever seen, but it was a refined sort of grace. She was like one of those million-dollar horses, bred to perfection.

  He laughed to himself at the comparison. Okay, she wasn’t a horse. She was beautiful in a china-doll like way. Flawless skin with immaculate makeup, blond hair pulled away from warm hazel eyes—the only warm thing about her.

  There was something… cold about her dancing, a lack of emotion. It was like she went through the steps, doing what was expected of her, and expecting textbook perfection every time.

  But dancing wasn’t about perfection. Not to Jack. It was about feeling, about expression. Even in ballet.

  His precise movement transformed into a more modern style, combining the emotion of hip-hop with the grace and strength of ballet. This transitional style was what he loved, a kind of dance he’d created himself. Jack planned each step, crafting his own moves.

  Could a girl like Lillian ever pull off these steps?

  Or would she be lost without her rigid structure?

  It didn’t matter. Nothing else did while he danced.

  By the time he finished, sweat streaked through his hair, and he pushed it out of his face, breathing hard.

  Ringing filled the silence, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone. Swiping it off the floor, he answered.

  “Hey, mom.”

  “Jacky.” His mom sounded tired as she normally did. “Are you almost done with work?”

  “Yeah, I can head home at any time.”

  “Good. I have to get going soon, so I need you home.”

  “On my way.” He picked up his keys and hung up.

  On his way out, he finished turning off the lights and flipped the sign to closed before locking the front door and exiting out the back. Crossing the dark parking lot to a beat up old Jeep, he climbed in. For years, Jack had saved every penny he earned to buy his Jeep, and he loved it.

  It took only a few minutes to cross the river to his house. As he walked through the front door, noise assaulted him in the form of his five-year-old sister, Alexis, and seven-year-old brother, Wyatt.

  “Jacky,” Alexis yelled. “Wyatt ripped the head off my Elsa barbie.”

  “Did not,” Wyatt called back.

  Jack left his keys on a hook by the front door and walked past his brother and sister into the small three-bedroom house. “Where’s mom?”

  “Here.” His mom hurried out of her bedroom while buttoning up her uniform. “Good to see you, kid.” She kissed the side of his head. Between Jack’s job, school, and his mom’s work, he hadn’t seen her for more than a minute or two in days. She worked doubles on the weekend, even though his dad had been in town for a short stay between his long-haul drives as a trucker.

  “I thought you were off tonight, Mom.” He shrugged off his coat and hung it in the front closet.

  She gave him a tired smile. “I was, but someo
ne called in sick at the diner, and they asked if I wanted the extra shift.”

  His mom never said no to extra shifts. His dad drove a truck when he could get the work, and his mom worked at the Main, a local treasure of a diner. It meant the family got by, barely.

  He retrieved his mom’s coat and held it out to her.

  She smiled in thanks and took it. “I’m sorry this falls to you again tonight.”

  He knew what this was. Parenting. Being there for his brother and sister. At eighteen, he was practically raising the two little hellions. He looked back to where they were still fighting and laughed. “I can handle them.”

  His mom brushed her thumb over his cheek. “I know you can. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll bring pancakes from the diner.”

  He nodded and let her give her final instructions to his siblings.

  Once the door shut behind her, Jack turned to Alexis and Wyatt. “All right, report. Wyatt, you first. Homework?”

  Wyatt straightened and lifted a hand in salute. He loved their nighttime routine.

  “Lexi?”

  She giggled and gave a weird half salute thing.

  He clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed them like a drill sergeant. “All right, soldiers. Homework is done, and I will choose to believe you. Now, onto our next task.” He leaned in and dropped his voice like it was a big secret. “Brush. Those. Teeth.”

  Both kids snapped off another salute before scrambling toward the bathroom, elbowing each other out of the way.

  Alexis stepped onto her stool, and Wyatt tried to push her off.

  Jack let out a fake growl. “No monkey business, soldiers. We have an enemy to defeat. And who is that enemy?”

  Wyatt only shrugged, but Alexis giggled. “The enemy is sleep.”

  “No, the enemy is lack of sleep.” Particularly his. “Come on soldiers.”

  They sped up their teeth brushing before spitting in the sink and rinsing it.

  “Go. Go. Go.” Jack waved them from the bathroom like he was ushering them through a boot camp obstacle course. Instead of running through tires next, they had to get into their pajamas as fast as they could.