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

  “In bed, in bed!”

  They jumped into their respective beds across the room from each other and burrowed under their blankets.

  Jack surveyed the room. “Well done, soldiers. Now, for your reward.”

  “A story!” Alexia yelled.

  Wyatt’s eyes lit with excitement.

  As much as Jack envied his friends who could do whatever they wanted, hang out in the evenings or play video games, he wouldn’t have given this up for anything. He flipped off the light before taking an extra pillow from Alexis’ bed and lowering himself to the center of the room between the two beds. He leaned back and closed his eyes as he tried to think of a story.

  Each night he put them to sleep, they demanded a new and fresh story straight from his imagination. And he gave it to them, because he couldn’t deny them anything.

  “There was once a knight named Alexis of the kingdom of Butler. And she was sworn to the princess, Wyatt.”

  “Hey!” Wyatt leaned over the edge of his bed. “Boys can’t be princesses.”

  Jack held in a laugh. “Wy, you can be whatever you choose.”

  “Okay, then, I don’t want to be a princess. I’m a queen.”

  “Sure thing, kiddo. So, Alexis the knight worked for Queen Wyatt.” He lost himself in a story of dragons and knights until Alexis crawled from her bed to snuggle against him on the ground. It didn’t take long for Wyatt to make his way down, and Jack let his voice lull them into the safety of sleep.

  Once the story was over and their breath evened out, he lay there a while longer, letting the kids wash away the stress of the day. School wasn’t easy for him. He struggled just to maintain a B average, in part, because he rarely had time to study.

  He definitely hadn’t needed some girl telling him he couldn’t possibly know dance because he was just a janitor. He knew his place in this town. As the son of people who were barely making it, he’d grow up to barely make it himself. There was no way out of that cycle for someone like him.

  But he wasn’t always looking for a way out. Sure, their family didn’t have much. Many meals consisted of hot dogs and beans or mac and cheese. Yet, none of them had ever minded because they had each other. His parents did their best, and his siblings gave him something to fight for.

  He wanted things to be better for them.

  He didn’t know how long he rested under their weight before shifting them off him and getting to his feet. He scooped Wyatt up, and the kid didn’t make a sound as Jack put him in his bed and covered him with blankets.

  Alexis wasn’t such a deep sleeper. The moment Jack lifted her into his arms, her eyes fluttered open. She reached a tiny hand up to touch his face. “I love you, Jacky.”

  And with those words, the rest of the world couldn’t hurt him, no matter how many prima donna dancers threw insults at him.

  He smiled and put her in her bed. “Love you too, Lexi-girl.” He kissed her forehead, and her eyes closed.

  Jack left their door open a crack and walked into his own room. After changing into plaid pajama pants, he headed into the kitchen to look for a late dinner. Dishes cluttered the counters, leftover from a hastily abandoned dinner of mac and cheese his mom prepared. She must have gotten the call from the diner while eating.

  He didn’t mind cleaning up after his family. Like at the dance studio, cleaning cleared his mind and allowed him to get lost in a mindless task.

  He scrubbed each plate clean before setting them on the drying rack. Their dishwasher broke ages ago, and there was no money to fix it.

  As he cleaned, he choreographed a dance in his mind. It was in quiet times like these he worked best.

  The only sound in the house was the running faucet and the soft clanging of dishes as he set more to dry. By the time he’d finished and wiped down the counters, he’d let the peace calm him and remind him this life was good despite what it lacked. Someone like Lillian Preston would understand his world just as much as he understood hers.

  Not at all.

  He opened the fridge and stuck his head in, searching for something edible. Pulling out the leftover pasta from a few days before, he heated it up and brought it into the living room where his school bag awaited his attention.

  He pulled out his math book to prepare for a coming test, a test he knew he’d do just okay on, never great.

  But he was okay being average at most things as long as he never let his family down.

  3

  Lillian

  “Great job as usual, Lillian.” Mrs. Fletcher slid the graded American Literature paper onto her desk. Lillian had put everything she had into the paper on Lorraine Hansberry’s play A Raisin in the Sun.

  An A minus. Lillian’s shoulders fell. Her mother would only see the minus. Those few missing points would equal failure in her eyes.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Fletcher,” Lillian murmured as she gathered her things and headed for the door. She had a few minutes before her favorite class of the day, History of the Ancient World. A few minutes to either stress over her mother’s reaction to her poor grade or ignore the whole thing by diving into Facebook. Lillian wasn’t much of a Facebook user—it was for old people, but she fished her phone out of her bag and pulled up the competition chat that had hijacked her phone. Lillian liked the girls she’d met at orientation, but she almost regretted agreeing to the private chat.

  Rose: Hey Divas, what do you think? I’m thinking of changing my hair to green to keep me pumped for winning all that scholarship money! What are you girls doing to stay motivated?

  She was joking, right? Green hair for scholarship money? Lillian laughed at the thought.

  Layne: I’m currently trying not to pull all my hair out.

  Jenna: Green would be ridiculous and awesome. I don’t need anything to keep me motivated. I’m a Diva, motivation is my natural state.

  Lillian wished she could be that confident. She knew she had the talent to win this scholarship, but telling her mother about it was another story.

  Lillian: It could be cute, Rose. Daily practice keeps me motivated to win.

  Lillian’s words sounded forced, but it was the best she could do. Girl talk wasn’t really her thing.

  “Settle down. And phones away, Ms. Preston.” Dr. Randall paced the front of his classroom, waiting for the large crowd to file into the theater-style room.

  Lillian slipped her phone back into her bag and readied her desk for taking notes. With images of the Steele of Hammurabi on the big screen, it looked like another day of history, which was Lillian’s favorite. Studying ancient civilizations was the one thing that made her forget about dancing. With graduation lurking around the corner, Lillian found herself thinking about her potential major more and more—if she decided to attend a traditional college. If her mother had it her way, secular college wasn’t even on the table. The American Ballet Company was the only future her mother would even discuss.

  Lillian enjoyed dancing, and she was good at it, but she didn’t love it the way her mother had when she was a young rising star. She had her mother’s talent but wondered if she had enough heart.

  Losing herself in the ancient past, Lillian relished every moment of her last class of the day. The one time it was easy to push ballet from her mind and focus on a subject she was passionate about. That, and in a class of nearly forty students, it was easier to blend into the masses and fly under the radar.

  “Wake up, William!” Dr. Randall cracked his hand against his podium, and Will let out a loud snore before he jolted awake beside Lillian.

  “I’m sure ancient civilizations aren’t nearly as exciting as hockey practice, but it’s only an hour of your time. Try to pay attention. Your grade could really benefit from it.”

  Dr. Randall went on with his lecture as Will looked around in confusion. Lillian shook her head, wondering how the jocks in this school got away with everything. If she fell asleep in class, she’d never hear the end of it. But her dancing wasn’t drawing paying sports fans to the school arenas
every week.

  “How long was I asleep?” Will whispered.

  Lillian looked up in surprise. The hockey jocks never spoke to her.

  “Pretty much the whole class.” Lillian scribbled in her notebook.

  “Could I borrow your notes real quick? I’ll take pictures and give them right back, promise.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but as she met his panicked gaze, her irritation vanished. He looked exhausted and kind of like a wounded puppy with his hair standing on end and an imprint of his spiral notebook on his face.

  “Sure, but try to stay awake next time.” She returned her attention to the lecture and put Will out of her mind. When Dr. Randall excused the class, Lillian passed her notes to Will.

  “You’re a lifesaver.” He smiled as he snapped pictures of her notes. “Good lord woman, did I sleep through three classes?” He sorted through the pages with a look of terror on his face. “You’ve written a book.”

  “I take thorough notes.” Lillian shoved her heavy textbook into her bag, waiting impatiently for Will to finish.

  “Good thing I sat next to the cute smart girl. We’re so going to be study buddies.”

  “Uh, yeah, I don’t have much time for studying. It’s why I take such careful notes.” Lillian snatched the pages back from Will and headed for the exit. She only had an hour to grab a snack and get to the dance studio for practice. Then back for dinner and homework before bed. That was Lillian’s daily routine. Had been for as long as she could remember.

  “Lil!” someone called after her halfway across the quad to her dorm. Lillian picked up her pace, hoping to avoid the delay that was Wylder Anderson. “I know you heard me.” The spunky girl with dreads fell in step beside her.

  “What’s up, Wylder?” Lillian tried not to roll her eyes.

  “Want to grab some food and a coffee? I’m starving.”

  “You’re always hungry. And I don’t have much time before I have to get to the studio.”

  “You’re always too busy for anything fun.”

  “Dancing is fun.” Lillian surprised herself with those words. Dancing used to be fun when she was a kid, but she wondered when it had stopped feeling like fun and started feeling like work.

  “Maybe, but not the way you do it.” Wylder elbowed her in the side.

  “Check with your roommate,” Lillian said. “Devyn can probably go with you.” Devyn and Wylder were her neighbors, and they were a constant reminder of how grateful Lillian was to be a senior and no longer required to live with a roommate.

  “She’s already shot me down.” Wylder tossed her blond dreads over her shoulder.

  “Don’t you have a ton of guy friends on the hockey team?”

  “Yeah but they’re all heading to practice, and I’m bored.”

  “Maybe you should pick up an extracurricular?” Wylder seriously needed some direction in her life. The girl was always bored and kind of lazy.

  “No way. I’m not the joiner type. Too bad you’re too busy for coffee. I guess I’ll catch you guys later for dinner. Oh, by the way, you should know your mom is lying in wait in your room. She’s got a billion ugly white dresses for you to try on.”

  “Cotillion dresses.” Lillian’s stomach sank to her toes. “Ugh, maybe I do want to get coffee.”

  “You have my sympathies. Moms are complicated, aren’t they?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Good luck with that. I’m going to attempt sneaking off campus to find some normal people to hang with.” Wylder left her at the entrance to their dormitory.

  Lillian trudged up the stairs to her suite on the third floor. She normally took the elevator but any excuse to delay a visit with her mother was a good choice.

  “Lillian?” Devyn called from the stairwell one floor up.

  “Yeah, I know. I have a visitor.”

  “I brought you a protein shake and some of my workout clothes if you want to make an escape.”

  “Thanks, Devyn.” Lillian met her on the next landing. “But I better get it over with. She’s here to talk about the debutant ball in Lexington in a few weeks.”

  “You’re a deb this year?” Devyn tapped her riding crop against her shiny leather boots. “Been there. It’s the worst. I’m just glad I had cotillion last year.”

  “You’d think my mom would rather I throw myself into practice than parade around a bunch of rich people at her country club.”

  “It’s a pain, right? We’ve both got bigger priorities this year.” Devyn shrugged. “Gotta get to the stables. Good luck with your mom.”

  “See you at dinner.” Lillian took the last flight of steps at a snail’s pace. Devyn was the closest thing she had to a friend at this school. They understood each other in a way none of their peers did. They had a drive few other girls their age could comprehend.

  “Well it’s about time,” Daria Preston snapped the second Lillian stepped into her dorm room.

  “Hi, Mom. I didn’t realize you were stopping by.” Lillian ignored her mother’s tapping, disapproving foot. “It’s nice to see you.” She dropped her messenger bag into her desk chair and kicked off her shoes. Her feet made her look like she was an accident victim. Bruised and swollen in places, and cracked and bleeding in others, she had the feet of a dedicated ballerina who worked tirelessly at her craft. Sitting on the floor, Lillian rubbed the arch of her foot, working out the stiffness. She had to tape up her feet to prepare for her class with Katrina later.

  “Leave that for later.” Her mother took the surgical tape from her daughter’s hand. “We need to pick a dress for cotillion.”

  Lillian eyed the rolling rack of fluffy white dresses her mother had brought with her. “It’s weeks away, Mom. You didn’t have to make a special trip for this.”

  “You’ll need alterations, and we can’t risk not having the perfect dress, dear.” She snapped her fingers, gesturing for Lillian to stop her foot stretches and get her mind on fashion.

  “You know I’ll wear whatever you choose. They’re all lovely.” Lillian feigned interest in the dresses. “Which one do you like?”

  “I need to see them on you, dear. Start with this one.” Her mom pressed a long white Grecian style dress into her arms and ushered her into the bedroom. It was going to be a long afternoon.

  “I have practice soon, just so you know.”

  “I called Katrina on my way in. She’s going to let us practice late this evening. The janitor will be there to lock up when we’re done. Now go change.”

  “Okay.” Lillian reluctantly stepped into her bedroom to try on the first of more than a dozen dresses. So much for having dinner with Wylder and Devyn tonight. She would be lucky if she had dinner at all.

  4

  Jack:

  “Hey, Lil.” Jack opened the studio door after hours. “Long time, no see.”

  “What does he mean, Lillian? Have you been slacking?” An angry and scary looking older lady shoved past him like he was just part of the scenery.

  “No, Mom.” Lillian rolled her eyes, ignoring Jack just like her mother had.

  “Come on in.” Jack held his hand out as Lillian rushed into the dark studio.

  “Turn some lights on, young man.” The older woman snapped her fingers at him.

  He didn’t respond well to demanding stage moms.

  “Mother, I’ve been here every single day practicing. He’s just trying to be funny.” She shot him a scathing look.

  “Let’s run through your warm up and the practice routine Coach Kozlovsky choreographed for you.” Lillian’s mother marched through the studio, flipping on all the lights as if the place belonged to her. Jack took an instant disliking to her.

  “Mother, don’t be rude.” Lillian tried to shoo her mother to one of the back rooms. “Jack has already closed up the front studio.”

  “I’m sure he won’t mind turning the lights off again when we are done.”

  Yep, she was definitely the worst stage mom Jack had ever seen.
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br />   “It’s no problem, I’ll just pull the shades down.” Jack set his broom against the wall and moved to the huge front windows.

  “Sorry.” Lillian whispered with a miserable look on her face.

  “Warm up, darling.” Her mother snapped her fingers again.

  “I’ve been working on a new routine in Katrina’s class. I haven’t danced Kozlovsky’s routine in a while. I’ve kind of moved past it.”

  “It’s a lovely classical dance, dear. One we paid a lot for him to choreograph specifically for you. This Katrina is the local studio owner, yes?”

  “Yes, she’s a very talented teacher.”

  “Oh darling, no. I’m sure she’s talented enough for this little town, but you’re here to use the facilities only. You shouldn’t be in any of that woman’s classes. I don’t want you to pick up any bad habits from an untrained—"

  “Well, that’s my cue to leave you two to your practice,” Jack interjected. “My cousin, Katrina said you can stay until seven-thirty.”

  “We will probably need another hour.” The mom from hell didn’t bother to ask for that hour, much less look at him.

  “I’ll be leaving at seven thirty, ma’am. I have family obligations, so that is as late as I’m prepared to stay.” Jack took his broom and headed for the back of the room to put his cleaning supplies away, barely catching their ensuing words.

  “That was so rude, Mother.” Lillian sighed.

  “Warm up, Lillian. Now.”

  Jack had already finished cleaning the smaller practice rooms and didn’t have much work left to do, so he found a quiet corner to study behind the curtain separating the front desk from Katrina’s office. He tried to focus on schoolwork, but he couldn’t stop watching Lillian and her mother through a gap in the curtain. They did more bickering than dancing, and he cringed every time her mother stopped her mid-routine.

  “Just let the girl dance already,” he muttered into his notebook, staring at the semester project sheet for his film class. He had to create a documentary on any subject he was passionate about. He already knew what he wanted to do, but wasn’t sure how to make it happen.