"Honey, you are too good to waste your time spritzing tables," Mrs. Hinson was saying. "You should be in New York going to auditions. I still have a few contacts. At the very least, you should be spending your days dancing. Goodness knows I could use your help teaching. And you'd have all the studio time you wanted between classes."
Wyatt cocked his head, trying to hear the response from whoever was in the room, but the voice was too low and the music--even though the volume had significantly diminished--drowned it out.
"Well, that may be so," Mrs. Hinson said, "but that doesn't mean your father is right. I don't doubt that man loves you, but he's not doing right by you."
Wyatt took a step closer, not sure why, only knowing that he was curious.
"Fine." Mrs. Hinson threw her hands up dramatically. "I know better than to try to convince you. But you just remember that the offer stands. And if you ever need a letter of recommendation, I'll--well, of course I mean it," she said after a pause, during which the girl she was talking to had obviously said something. "And now I've got to run. No, no. You stay as long as you want. There aren't any more classes today. You enjoy yourself. Ju
st be sure to lock up."
The girl must have agreed, because Mrs. Hinson waved, then turned and headed down the hall toward Wyatt. She had her head down as she rummaged in her purse, and he slipped quietly into the men's room until he heard her footsteps pass.
He counted to ten, then counted again just to be sure. Then he slipped out into the abandoned hallway. The music was back--louder now--and he headed toward the still-open door. He was curious to see who was in there, although when he thought back on it later, he was certain that some part of him already knew.
It was her, of course. Kelsey.
She wore tights and the bottom half of a leotard that looked like it had been cut in two with hedge shears. On top, she wore a sports bra with a collarless T-shirt over it, cut off at the midriff. He could see the taut muscles of her back and abs as she soared across the room. Because that's what it was--soaring. Not dancing. Hell, not anything he'd seen before. She was magic, her movement and power elevating what used to be a simple pop song into something absolutely transcendent.
This was it, he thought. This was her. This was Kelsey, and he was seeing her for the very first time.
He'd only seen hints of the core of her before. That spark. That vitality.
But he'd seen it now, and he knew it lived inside her.
She wasn't shy; she was extraordinary. Alive. Vibrant.
Real.
More than that, she was going to be his.
Somehow, he was going to win this girl.
9
Somehow he was going to win the girl.
As plans went, Wyatt had to admit it was a little vague. Not so much a plan, but a hope. An intention.
Somehow, though, he was going to see it through. At least he knew more about her now than he had before. And he pursued her like he'd never pursued a girl before. Flowers in her locker. Compliments whenever he saw her. Lattes in the morning, which he left for her even if she said no. And, best of all, tickets to the final round of a ballroom dance competition being held right there in Santa Barbara.
"I don't know if you're into dancing," he lied, thrusting two tickets into her hand as they stood outside the tennis center. "But someone gave these to me, and I thought you might want to go. With me, I mean." He gave himself a mental kick. He sounded like a douche. Not a confident seventeen-year-old.
But from the way she was smiling, it didn't look like she thought he was lame. On the contrary, her entire face glowed.
"I love dancing," she admitted. "It's--well, it's what I want to do. The only thing I want to do."
"Then this works out great," he said, the feeling that he was an idiot morphing into something much more pleasant.
"Except--well, it's just--" She held the tickets back out to him, and it felt like a punch in the gut. "It's just that I can't accept this."
"You don't have to." The words tumbled out of his mouth. "I mean, I already accepted. They were a gift to me." Not exactly a lie since his grandmother gave him the tickets. "I just need someone to tag along so I don't have an empty seat beside me. Looks pathetic, you know."
She bit her lower lip. "Really?"
"You'd be helping me out a lot."
"Thursday?"