Cupcake

“So, you ready to dance?” I asked.

“No, and I should warn you.” Rhys tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’m not the best at this.”

“Yeah right, stop being modest. A lot of football players are great dancers. Just look at Dancing With the Stars.”

“No seriously. I can’t dance. It’s like the only thing I suck at.”

How he managed to make that sound both arrogant and charming at the same time, I’d never know. Maybe it was because of how uncomfortable he looked admitting one of his weaknesses.

I lifted a brow. “Everyone can dance. And with a last name like yours, you have to be amazing.”

Rhys frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Castle,” I said like it was obvious. But Rhys still looked confused. “Oh come on, Dirty Dancing? It’s a cinematic classic.”

“Never seen it,” he said.

I gaped at him. “You’ve never seen…wow, Rhys. Just wow. You are blowing my mind right now with your lack of movie education.”

“Are there castles in it or something? Because fairy tales aren’t my thing, Cupcake.”

“It’s set at a resort,” I said. “No actual castles. The main guy is named Johnny Castle. He’s this awesome dance instructor.”

Rhys shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like we have much in common.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Before he could respond, Ms. Weaver came over with that signature pep in her step.

“Ah good!” she said, looking from Rhys to Zander. “The two wayward princes have arrived. I hope you came ready to dance! We were just about to start the choreography.”

Zander rolled his shoulders and neck around. “Awesome, dancing is my thing. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

I nodded. “I’ve seen you at the pep rallies. You’re really good.”

“Thanks, Cupcake,” Zander beamed.

As Zander popped into a squat, Rhys said, “Man, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said. “I’m stretching, duh. You’re supposed to stretch before any physical activity—wouldn’t want to pull anything.”

Lana, who looked horrified, spoke up then. “Ms. Weaver, are these partnerships really set in stone?”

“I’ve already told you,” Ms. Weaver said. “The chalices have chosen.”

“But Rhys and I—”

“Aren’t together anymore,” Rhys finished. “We haven’t been for a while.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she mumbled under her breath.

Lana’s dismay was obvious. Without even thinking, I heard myself say, “Again, if Lana wants to trade, I would be fine with that.”

Rhys’s brows drew together. He said nothing, but there was clearly something going on in that head of his. Too bad reading guys had never been my specialty.

Ms. Weaver shook her head at me and patted Lana’s shoulder.

“The partners remain intact,” she said. “I’m sorry, Miss Leavengood, but Homecoming Court has a long-standing tradition of picking via chalice. You can’t just choose your partner.”

“It’s not that,” Lana said. “If we traded, it would be more aesthetically pleasing and make more sense, but whatever.” Her eyes went from Rhys’s to mine. “I just hope there aren’t any lifts. For both your sakes.”

Ouch. So that’s what I got for trying to help. Awesome. I knew one thing: Lana would definitely not be getting the title for Miss Warm and Fuzzy.

Zander followed Lana to the other side of the room. Ms. Weaver gave us a tense smile, moving on to check in with the others. And Rhys…laughed.

He actually had the audacity to laugh.

What an asshat.

Far as I was concerned, he and Lana were made for each other. Every time one of them did something semi-decent, they followed it up with a heaping dose of jerkish behavior.

“Are you laughing?” I asked.

Rhys nodded, totally unrepentant. “Yeah, I am.”

His answer made me see red.

“Oh, I hope you go to sleep and wake up with spiders in your bed,” I said then walked off in a huff.

Unfortunately, Rhys followed.

I ignored him until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“What?” I said finally.

“I don’t get why people call you sweet all the time,” he said. “You’re really not.”

Was he serious right now?

“Excuse me?” I rounded on him with a frown. “Are you calling me rude? Because you were the one being a jerk.”

Rhys shook his head. “No, not rude. You are sweet, but a little spicy, too. You got spunk, Cupcake. Who knew?”

A blush rose to my cheeks unbidden.

“And I wasn’t laughing at you,” he added. “I was laughing at Lana. She’s got issues.”

Don’t we all?

“Well, thanks…I guess,” I said, some of the anger leaving me. “Also, I take it back. I’m sorry about the spiders thing.”

“Yeah, that was gross.” Rhys faked a shudder.

I laughed. “You act like you’re the one afraid of bugs or something.”

“Nah. But considering how much you hate them, it was a good insult.”

“I was pretty upset,” I said.

Rhys shrugged. “You know, you shouldn’t let Lana get to you. She’s just jealous.”

That brought me up short. Lana Leavengood, the queen of Honeycomb High, jealous of me? I couldn’t believe it. Although…

My eyes gave Rhys a once-over, and I began to understand.

“You mean because I get to partner with you,” I said.

“I guess. Among other things.”

What things? I thought. The way Rhys was looking at me, the tone of his voice… Oh, I was curious. Before I could ask what he meant, though, his next words sidetracked me.

“Also, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to get rid of me,” he said.

“I wasn’t—”

“Listen, I get it. If you like Zander, that’s cool. He’s a good guy.”

Were we seriously having this discussion right now?

“But you’re mine.”

I nearly choked at that.

Mine?

Rhys’s voice was steady, his gaze unflinching.

“I’m yours?” I repeated.

“Yeah, and I’m yours,” he said. “At least until Homecoming. Glad you agree, Cupcake.”

Mr. Patachoui clapped his hands twice to get everyone’s attention. I was grateful for the distraction. It was just what I needed to take my mind off Rhys’s words that kept echoing in my mind.

“Time to learn the official Homecoming choreography, kids,” he said, flashing a smile. “We’ll be working on two dances, one for the group and one specific to the king and queen. This first dance is my original choreo. It was inspired by couples’ dances seen back in the old Regency days. Please, face your partner.”

All the students did so.

“Gentlemen, bow while the ladies curtsy.” He seemed to notice the same-sex couples then and added, “If you have two ladies or two gentlemen paired together, you must talk and decide which one of you will lead. Ms. Weaver, would you assist me?”

“Of course,” Ms. Weaver said.

“Those who are leading, keep your backs straight as you bend at the waist. Those who are following, place one foot slightly behind the other and smoothly bend both knees. Eyes should remain on your partner.”

That part should’ve been easy.

But wow, those eyes.

I felt warmth rush through me as Rhys’s gaze met mine. His blue eyes weren’t like a storm today, more like the ocean, deep and intense. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But having all that focus on me? It made my knees weak. I only prayed Rhys couldn’t read my mind.

Aside from the weak knees, Rhys and I—and the other couples—got through that first part without much trouble.

I was feeling good about my curtsy as Mr. Patachoui gave me a nod.

“Very nice,” he said. “Now, one step forward and across, then two back to the starting position. We’ll do that first to the right, then left,” he said. “Your arm will rise to cup your partner’s cheek. However—and this is very important—your skin will not touch.”

Mr. Patachoui waggled his finger.

“Part of the beauty of this piece and of the Regency era was how innocent it was. There was very little touching yet so much quiet yearning.”

I thought I heard Zander mumble, “That’s no fun,” which made me grin.

But my amusement only lasted until we had to try it ourselves. After watching Mr. Patachoui and Ms. Weaver, we performed the steps. They added a few other movements, and then we put them all together.

Or at least…we tried.

The first step went okay. At that point, I thought Rhys was pulling my leg earlier when he said he couldn’t dance. Sure, he was a bit stiff, obviously uncomfortable, but he wasn’t terrible.

Then came the moment when he went the wrong way, and we bumped heads.

“Sorry,” he muttered as I rubbed my temple.

“No problem,” I said back.

On the next try, Rhys somehow managed to step on my feet…both of them in quick succession. I could tell he felt bad about it, and I tried not to wince. But man, that hurt.

“Told you I was bad,” he said.

“You’re doing fine,” I retorted.

But it was obvious as the minutes went by that Rhys wasn’t fine. A light sheen of sweat broke out on his brow. Every time he messed up, he seemed to concentrate even harder, but that only made it worse, causing him to hesitate, make more mistakes, and be off beat. I didn’t know how many times he’d stepped on my feet. By the fifth time it happened, I stopped counting.

One thing was for sure: my tennis shoes were not cut out for this. But I tried my best to make Rhys feel more confident, take it slow, and be patient. He was struggling but trying.

Rhys’s frustration was real when Lana breezed past us. She and her partner didn’t seem to be having any problems.

“How’s it going?” Zander asked while Lana smirked.

“Fantastic,” Rhys deadpanned. “Can’t you tell? Cupcake’s toes will probably fall off after this, but other than that, it’s all good.”

I almost laughed but winced instead as Rhys’s heel accidentally caught my pinky toe.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I repeated.

“You don’t look too bad to me,” Zander put in.

Rhys gave him a look. “Don’t lie, Z. I suck. And I know part of you is loving this.”

The other boy suddenly smiled. “Not gonna lie—it is nice to see there’s something you’re not good at, QB.”

“Thanks a lot,” Rhys muttered.

“But you’ll get it. No worries,” Zander added.

“Yeah, you two shouldn’t worry at all,” Lana said. “Just because this is our only practice, and there are only a couple hours left, doesn’t mean you’ll fail.”

Zander bit his lip as Rhys and I accidentally bumped chests.

“I’m guessing,” Zander said to Lana, “right about now, you’re glad we got paired together, huh?”

Lana blinked innocently. “Well, of course I am! Why would you think any differently?” She waved to Rhys and me. “Good luck, you two. Just a friendly reminder: the clock is ticking.”

Lovely.