Fake It 'Til You Break It

Miranda shakes her head with a grin. “Not this year. This year we are the show.”

Holy shit.

The dance team is geared more toward hip-hop in style, which is why when they recruited me freshman year, I agreed, but to take over Senior Night that’s not only full of students, but parents and faculty? Kind of crazy being our dances are on the risqué side, a lot of booty popping is involved.

“There’s like forty of them and only seventeen of us,” another says.

“Only the seniors will be escorted, but we’ll still be a little short which is why I’ve asked the JV dance team to help out, but only during the escorting. They won’t be performing our full routine with us,” she announces. “I’m still working on costumes for the performance, but I’m thinking we’ll incorporate the team to help make it fresh in some way.”

“How so?” I ask.

“Well, we can add eye black for fun, and knee-high socks. We can ask Coach Parks if we can borrow the boys’ away jerseys since this is a home game or another option is lettermen jackets. The entire team was awarded one free last year when they won state, so every player should have one that can be worn.”

“It might be hard to dance in.”

“Yes,” she agrees, then smirks. “But it would be a great show starter, and a piece you can easily toss when the chorus hits.”

“Yes!” someone shouts. “A transition piece into our costume reveal!”

“Do we get to pick who we escort?” Ava asks with excitement, making us laugh.

“Hell no, you think I want to deal with the fallout of that when these boys aren’t what you imagined in your heads?” she teases, making us laugh. She’s only twenty-one, so she’s always super cool when it comes to boyfriends and things. “This is about our team performing well. Hear me?”

“Yes, Coach,” is said in unison.

“Okay.” She rolls her wrist. “Three laps around and then fall in.”

After our quick warm-up, we run through our routine twice and then there’s a hard knock on the gym door.

Miranda smirks, skipping backward toward the door. “Did I mention they’d be here today?”

My eyes widen and I glance around the room.

Most of us are in tiny booty shorts and tanks or a sports bra. Since this is only practice and not an actual class, we can get away with that.

The boys, though, they have zero period weight training, so they’re on the clock right now. Still, when she opens the door and shakes the coach’s hand, half the guys are shirtless, the rest sleeveless.

Thompson and Trent walk in first, Alex and a few others behind them, followed by more of their teammates.

Trent nods in hello, so I wave, my eyes shifting along the line and catching Alex’s. He grins, then looks around at the girls.

Where’s Nico?

This makes three days now he hasn’t shown up to school.

“Okay,” Miranda starts. “Boys, solid straight line across the wall, shortest to tallest. I’m gonna place some girls in front of you and check height so I can get a good idea of what will and won’t work for entrances. I know you normally just walk out with the girls while your stats are read over the speaker, but this year we’re involving you a little more for fun.”

She has us do the same once they’re placed in order.

I’m shuffled around a few times, and in the end, placed in front of Thompson who is at least six-five and has been since freshman year.

He throws his arms over my shoulder. “Wassup, Demi?”

“Not much. Did you guys know we were pairing?” I glance at Trent who is a few bodies away.

He shakes his head no as Thompson says it.

“We’ve got a couple bodies not here, Miranda, just so you know,” Coach Park tells her. “I can send you their height if you wanna preplan in just a bit.”

“That would be helpful, thanks,” she says, moving girls around at the beginning of the line. I’m moved one more time, now placed in front of Carlos, the defensive end.

Miranda steps back, nodding slowly. “I think this—”

She’s cut off when the gym door slams shut and all eyes fly in that direction.

Nico walks in wearing joggers and a hoodie pulled over his head.

He pauses by his coach a moment, saying something no one else can hear. The coach slaps him on the shoulder, pushing him our way.

“Miranda,” Nico mumbles as he walks by, not looking at her.

“I need to pair you, Nico,” she says sternly.

He ignores her, stopping in front of me, and his eyes narrow before shifting to Carlos.

There’s a light shuffle, and then Nico slips in, his chest pushing against my back in the next second.

I inhale, slightly annoyed he thinks he can walk in here and take control, especially after no word for three days.