The Bad Boy's Dance (4 page)

“Asher! Go away!”

“Ooh, say my name again. It’s hot.” My frustration grew, as did the blush on my traitorous cheeks. His smirk grew, as if he could sense the rise he was getting out of me.

He was wearing his leather jacket and ripped jeans. Was that blood I saw on his hand? Holy cannoli!

Asher followed my gaze to his hand and chuckled. “It’s ketchup, babe.”

I scowled. “Don’t call me babe.”

“That’s sounds an awful lot like an order,
babe,
” Asher leaned across the table toward me.

My friends finally animated. “Back off, dude,” Caleb said, putting his hand on Asher’s arm.

He sat back and glanced at Caleb’s hand. Caleb rapidly retracted it.

My poor friends. That terrorist was giving them heart attacks. Standing, I grabbed my backpack and lunch. Ignoring the curious stares, I dumped my lunch and started to storm off.

A hand wound around my elbow, stopping me. “Where are you going? Lunch isn’t over.”

I whirled to glare at him. “Let go.”

His grip tightened, and that smirk on his face grew. “I’m actually pretty comfortable.”

I wanted nothing more than to make that smirk of his disappear. My vision went red, and my self-control snapped like a twig. So, in front of most of Darwin High, I yanked Asher toward me using his grip on my elbow. It would have looked like I was reeling him in for a kiss if I hadn’t promptly shoved him away.

Electricity zinged along my body at our proximity, and when his hair brushed my cheek, the air in my lungs whooshed out.

Asher wasn’t even dazed. He blinked, rubbed his forehead absently, before breaking into a dazzling smile.

Oh for the love of…

“That was great. Next time, go for something less, I don’t know, hard. Oh wait,” he glanced down at his body as if surprised to find that he was lean and fit.

Bringing my lips close to his ear, I whispered his kryptonite. “If you don’t let go of me
right now
I’ll hit something a lot more sensitive than your head.”

His smile faltered in surprise. He gazed at me like he was really looking at me for the first time. “Where have you been hiding?” he mused.

Oh-so-slowly, Asher removed his fingers, one by one. “See you in a few minutes,” he said.

The treacherous bell rang. Nobody in the cafeteria moved. The scene playing before them was much too interesting. It was the first time Asher Grayson looked even remotely animated during school.

I turned and marched to Physics, ignoring the whispers trailing behind me. What had I gotten myself into?

Anyone near me in the hall scrammed. Usually, I was mellow to the point of appearing slow, so getting me riled up was quite a feat. Yet somehow, Asher Grayson could to it with his mere presence and a few choice words.

I took my seat in the far back. The class filled slowly. Not many people noticed me, thankfully. I was too well hidden. An unassuming junior sat next to me and smiled gingerly. I smiled back at her.

“Hi. I’m Phoebe,” she said, stretching her hand. We shook cordially, and I almost laughed at the formality. “I’m Ivy. It’s nice to meet you.”

We exchanged pleasantries. She was a small girl, and her glasses sat crooked on her nose. I had to resist the urge to straighten them for her while we spoke.
She was slightly skittish, and I admired her academic resilience. We chatted for a few minutes, and I felt the protective Mother Hen in me rearing it's head. She was sweet, naive, and trusting- a combination for disaster at Darwin High
.
The bell rang, and I’d almost forgotten why I was so angry until a shadow loomed over Phoebe’s desk.

“I’m sitting here,” Asher said, completely matter-of-fact.

Phoebe’s glasses slid to the bridge of her nose as she gaped at Asher. I imagined what she was seeing. A tall, savagely good-looking, scary senior. Too bad it wasn’t easy to see how arrogant and irritating he was.

“Actually, you sit over there.” I pointed to the front, where Tristan and Kelsie were sitting, unaware that their leader was in the ‘non-Plastic’ section.

Phoebe glanced between us, caught. “Move.”  Asher said simply, and nonchalantly took off his jacket.

Thick black lines wound around his bicep in an intricate tattoo. His V-neck black shirt was enough to prove that no, Asher Grayson didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body.

Phoebe swallowed, gathered her things, and moved to a different seat. She shot me an apologetic smile before averting her gaze.

Asher slid into the seat. It was almost comical, seeing him in the seat Phoebe had vacated a second ago.

I groaned, covering my palms with my hands. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“As your dance partner, it’s my duty to be friendly.”

“That’s a load of baloney. You don’t do friendly. And I’m not your partner!”

“How would you know if I do friendly or not?” he said, ignoring the last part of my protest.

“You’re Asher Grayson,” I said scathingly. “You break hearts like they’re toys, yet they still love you. You’re scary as hell. And I’m pretty sure you’re the devil.”

Asher had to lean his forehead against the desktop while he laughed. He clutched his side, and even though I tried not to, I found myself loving the deep, velvety sound of his laugh. Unfortunately, it was usually at my expense.

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. The teacher was talking, ignoring Asher’s mirth. Engaging him was more trouble than it was worth for them.

And yet you’re calling him the devil, shoving him, and threatening to impair his equipment? Did you huff paint this morning?

Resolutely, I faced the front. My ears were flaming with embarrassment. Tristan and Kelsie were shooting glances at Asher, questioning him with their eyes.

I could feel him staring at me. It made paying attention very difficult. I opened my notebook and tried very hard to pay attention. When it was evident that Physics wouldn’t be distracting me from the presence to my left, I discreetly stuck my earphones in and hunched out of the teachers view.

My iPod was on shuffle, and the first song to pay was ‘Nobody Compares” by One Direction. I was into their catchy songs, not so much the slower stuff.

I mouthed the words, tapping my pencil to the beat. I doodled a paisley on the edge of my paper absently. Paisleys were so fun to draw.

The next song came on, and my pencil dropped.

Britney Spears “Criminal”.

Britney, you’re really getting under my skin this week.

             
Suddenly, a hand reached over and plucked an ear phone from my ear. Asher scooted closer and stuck the bud in his ear.

              Shoot! Holy crackers with-

              Asher’s face contorted, and I knew he was coming up with a million dirty jokes. I yanked the ear bud from his ear roughly, my ears and cheeks flaming. That was like triple the humiliation.

              The bell rang, and we gathered our things. I tucked my iPod away and rushed to the dance studio.

             
What’s the point? I’m still gonna see him there.

             
Mrs. Knut was taking attendance. “Go change,” she said the minute she saw me.

              Fantastic. This day just kept getting better and better.

              I went into the girl’s locker room, my least favorite place in the whole high school. It smelled, most of the girls had no problem strutting around completely naked, and there was always gum stuck to the weirdest places.

              Ignoring the cluster of giggling volleyball players near me, I tugged on black tights that stopped at my knees and a blue tank top. My hair was already tied. The hum in the locker room lowered as Brenda Curtis entered.

              How was it possible to look perfect when you were covered in sweat? I always looked and smelled like a naked mole rat when I was sweaty.

              As she made her way past, she suddenly stopped and turned to stare at me. My mouth went dry as her gaze flicked over me, assessing. This was very bad. This was Code Red bad. The shark was sniffing for her prey.

              I bolted from the locker room, almost slipping in my socks in the process. The door to the dance studio was open, and in my rush, I skidded across the polished wood.

              My arms pin-wheeled and I started listing my last will and testament mentally. Let’s see…maybe I could pull some strings and haunt Spencer from the great beyond.

              Instead of falling to the floor, I crashed into a familiar chest. A very firm, very intimidating chest. My eyes fell on the tattoo and I gulped.

              “If you want me, all you have to do is say so. You don’t have to keep throwing yourself at me.”

              I stepped back. “Shove off, Grayson.”

              Asher was wearing sweats that hung low on his hips and a loose black shirt. He looked absolutely tantalizing.

              “Like what you see?”

              “Yes.”

              He looked startled, that is until I finished. “Those ballet flats are lovely.” I pointed to the shoes behind him, and he grinned, to my surprise.

              “Everyone!” Mrs. Knut called. “Our very own Mr. Asher Grayson and Miss Ivy Robello have decided to be our representatives in the National Dance Tournament!”

              The class clapped while I reddened. Flipping Mrs. Knut hadn’t even waited for my answer!

              “Do you guys want to see them dance?” Mrs. Knut asked loudly.

              “Yes!” the response was enthusiastic.

              Wait, what? No! I don’t want to-

              “Scared, Ivy?” Asher’s voice was close. My blood tingled. This was the first time he’d said my name.

              “Of course not!” I hoped my pants don’t catch fire.

              “Then show me what you can do. Don’t worry, I’ll help you. I can dance well enough for the both of us.” Asher couldn’t be more arrogant if he tried, I swear.

              “We both know this competition is going to be mainly me, anyway.”

              Nope, I was wrong.

              “Ready?” Mrs. Knut checked, her finger poised over the iPod dock.

             
Just let it go, Ivy. For now, just forget everything.

             
I emptied my mind, and rolled my shoulders. Bring it, Asher.

Selena Gomez “Slow Down” started playing.

I grabbed Asher’s hand and whirled under his outstretched arm. When the chorus came on I dropped to the ground and rolled my hips. Without standing, I rocked back on my heels and spun.

It was amusing to watch Asher look so stunned.

“Grayson! Move!” Mrs. Knut sounded excited.

He finally animated, and pulled my body flush against his. We moved in opposite directions with the music. My heart beat accelerated even more as our bodies moved in sync. The chorus came on, and Asher grabbed my waist and crouched, rolling me over his shoulder.

I landed on my heels and hiked my ankle over his shoulder as he stood. The only time where I was grateful I was tall? When I was dancing. Years of dancing had made me a glorified gymnast.

              Dropping it, I hitched my knees over Asher’s waist and bent backwards, my hands scraping the wood as he spun us around.

              The end of the song was coming up. Time for the grand finale. “Ready?” Asher mouthed.

              I nodded. He positioned my hands on his shoulders, and I knew what he would do. It was amazing, really. I’d trained for weeks to achieve the kind of ease and synchronicity with my partner that I had with Asher in a matter of minutes.

              Asher pulled me up to that I was straight in the air, my hands on Asher’s shoulders and our foreheads pressed together. I kept my body as straight as possible as he bent one knee and slid me down his front so that we were pressed against each other.

              The song ended, and after a beat, the class burst into wild applause.

              My heart was beating fast, and I was breathing hard. I was way too close to Asher. His forehead glistened with sweat, and the the feel of his heart racing under my palm was too much.

              “You guys were amazing!” Mrs. Knut’s voice snapped us from our haze. I backed away, looking anywhere but at him. Holy…what was that? That was a
moment.
I just had a moment with Asher Grayson.

              Maybe I needed to pay Dr. Paxton a visit, because I was obviously losing it. “T-thanks,” I answered Mrs. Knut. Asher didn’t say anything. From the prickly sensation I was having, I suspected he was staring at me.

              “Wait a minute…Ivy Robello? You’re
the
Ivy Robello? You were a child star! Weren’t you on America’s Got Talent?” Mrs. Knut was having a nuclear meltdown. “We might have a chance at winning the NDT!”