Defiant Princess (Boys of Oak Park Prep 2)

But I needed more. I needed a company, a teacher, and an ensemble to challenge me.

An idea had been growing in my mind since the moment the judge had released part of my trust to me. Jacqueline had forbidden me from pursuing dance professionally, but she didn’t get to have a say in that anymore.

I could do whatever I wanted.

A company in L.A., the Pacific Contemporary Ballet, would be holding auditions for chorus members for their resident company in December, and I had set myself a goal—be ready to audition by that time. It wasn’t an audition for a prima spot, but that was okay. I wasn’t there yet. But getting into a good company with great dancers would be the push that might get me there someday. And if I got in, I could finish the year at Oak Park and then start right after school ended.

It was a thought that terrified and excited me—stepping up to really pursue my dream—but the excitement far outweighed the fear.

Maintaining control, I lowered my leg in a graceful arc, smiling at my reflection in the mirror as I did. My conversation with Philip two days ago had been playing on a constant loop in my mind, but the dance studio was my little haven away from all those thoughts and worries.

I switched legs, progressing through a series of movements, but froze when I heard the door open behind me.

Finn?

An irrational excitement and an equal anger rose in my chest, but when I glanced at the mirror, I saw Oliver slipping into the room behind me. The tension in my shoulders dissipated, replaced by mild irritation. I’d mentioned to him on our last date that I used this room to dance during gym, but I hadn’t meant it as an invitation to join me.

This was my haven.

My escape.

My freedom.

“Hey.” He grinned, running a hand through his curly dark hair. “I slipped away from the volleyball game—thought I’d come up and see some of your moves.”

“I was just about to take a break, actually,” I said evasively.

“Oh.” His grin widened as he crossed the small space toward me. “Well, that’s even better. I didn’t really want to see you dance anyway.”

My brows pulled together, and I turned to face him, the irritation at his interruption shifting to annoyance. Dance was what I loved, and he made it sound stupid.

“Well, then, you shouldn’t have come up.” I put my hands on my hips, taking a deep breath. A small trickle of sweat worked its way down between my breasts.

Oliver’s gaze tracked over my black leotard and bare legs, and he pursed his lips slightly. “Nah. It was definitely worth it. I don’t need to see you dance to enjoy the view.”

He reached me in two more strides and pulled me into his arms, pressing his lips to mine. That feeling of wrongness that had flared up every time I tried to kiss him before resurfaced, stronger this time, and I wriggled out of his grip. “Oliver, I don’t—”

“Come on, Talia.” He laughed, looping his arms around my waist again and tugging me toward him. “I’ve been pretty patient, but you can’t go around dressed like that and expect me not to want you.”

“I’m not going around,” I shot back, pressing hard on his arms to break his grip again. “I came up here to work.”

He stepped into my space for the third time, one arm grasping my waist like a vise while the other skated up over my breast. “Sure you did. So did I.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I shoved at his chest, and he gave up groping my boob to wrap that arm around me too, pinning me to him. My heart beat harder in my chest as I stared at his bland, friendly face. His lips were curved up in a smile, as if the two of us shared some secret.

“Talia,” he said softly, hiking me tighter against him. He was hard. I could feel his dick pressing into my stomach, and it made the wrong kind of butterflies flap around wildly, like they too were trying to escape. “Come on. You can cut the act out. I saw that video. We all saw it. You like sex. And that’s okay. It’s more than okay. Don’t let anybody make you feel bad about who you are.”

As I blinked, trying to process those words, he swooped his head down and kissed me. Hard. I wrenched my mouth away, but he grabbed my jaw with one hand, forcing my face back to meet his.

“Jesus, Oliver, cut it out!” I shoved him hard and managed to slip his grasp for a second, but he was on me again in a blink, his body suddenly seeming bigger, more threatening than it ever had before.

“Come on, Talia. Come on. Just once. I put in all the fucking work. Just once.”

He pawed at me as he muttered, backing me up toward the mirror until my ass hit the barre, trapping me against it with the weight of his pelvis. His lips were on the skin of my neck, my ear, and the only word I could think of was wrong, wrong, wrong.

I flailed and kicked, trying to shove him off me, and when he slipped a hand down the front of my leotard, the feel of his palm on my breast sent a shockwave of panic spiraling through me. I screamed, hurling myself to the side. We both stumbled, and there was a ripping sound before I went down to my hands and knees. I didn’t turn around, didn’t even stop to see where he was, just scrambled back to my feet and threw myself toward the door.