Theo

As we finish up the short routine we’ve just done on the lawn, I watch in mild amusement as the girl in the Dancer shirt shakes her head at Danny and folds the flyer in half before cramming it into her back pocket, looking less than enthusiastic about the prospect of trying out for the team. The girl standing next to her with the pixie cut and face jewelry looks embarrassed like she can’t believe her friend is acting so standoffish. Both girls are cute, but the one I have my eye on is the blonde. She’s pretty in a subtle sort of way, the kind of girl that you might not pick out in a lineup, but who probably cleans up well. Humble. Sweet. Quiet. She seems like the type who might want a steady relationship instead of a one-night stand, and that’s exactly the type of woman I am not looking for. I don’t do relationships. Not anymore.

Beads of sweat drip from my brow as I grab a towel and a bottle of water and pop the cap, momentarily forgetting about the girls Danny is talking to as I chug the water, my eyes landing upon one of my teammates, Karen, as she sidles up beside me, no doubt ready to try her hand once more at getting me out on a date. Karen is nice, sure, but she’s pushy, and I don’t really like that. Not to mention, she’s not the dancer she thinks she is, and that in itself is a real turnoff. But, as Danny tells us every day, we can’t afford to turn away mediocre dancers right now. Not with the competition coming up.

“Looking good out there, Theo,” Karen says, grabbing a bottle of water for herself before she takes off the cap and takes a dainty sip. Her dark hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail and the pointy curves of her hips sway as she walks and moves about. She’s attractive, I’ll give her that. But again, I don’t do relationships.

“Thanks,” I say. “You, too.” That’s a lie, but she doesn’t know any better. Girls like Karen think they’re better than they are—at everything.

Before she can push for more mundane conversation, I flash her a polite smile and then move away, reaching into my pocket to check my cell phone, hoping that will be enough to detour her. She doesn’t follow me, thank God, but I’m surprised to see that I have a missed call from my twin sister, Sasha. A brief moment of panic wells inside me as I check the voicemail.

“Hey, bro, it’s me. I just—well, I wanted to call you and tell you I miss you. We need to get together soon, yeah? Xander is keeping the team pretty busy, but maybe I can sneak out and visit at some point, anyway.” There’s a small chuckle on the other end of the line, and I close my eyes, hearing the pain in her voice. My hand tightens around the cell phone and I shake my head, wishing I hadn’t missed her call. “Um, okay, I have to go. Love you.”

I press the save button on my phone before hanging up and pocketing it again. I know if I try to call her back, she won’t answer. Especially not if her controlling, douchebag boyfriend and team leader Xander is around, whispering bullshit in her ear.

God, I fucking hate that guy.

“T, my man, why the long face?” Mark, one of my best friends, spots me shoving the phone back into my pocket and furrows his brow before scrunching up his empty water bottle and tossing it aside. Mark, just like Danny, is basically a brother to me. Even if I wanted to hide my anger right now, I wouldn’t be able to in front of him.

“Another voicemail from Sasha,” I tell him, settling down on the bench on the lawn to compose myself. Mark takes a seat next to me, running a hand through his disheveled blonde hair. As a couple of freshmen girls strut past us, Mark winks at them, drawing giggles from the girls as they continue down the pathway. I roll my eyes. Out of the three of us, Mark is the most charismatic. On the outside, he’s perfect. Handsome, charming, street smart, and intuitive, not to mention an incredible dancer. But only those that really know him understand the secrets he holds within.

We all have similar secrets.

“Ah,” Mark says, turning his attention back to me. “Your sexy twin sister. How is she doing on this fine day?”

“She sounded harassed, but what’s new,” I grumble. “I know for a fact that Xander treats her like shit.”

“Xander treats everyone like shit,” Mark confirms, and this only annoys me more. It was just recently that Sasha abandoned this team to move to a different troupe, brimming with bullshit lies that her new boyfriend and fellow competitor, Xander, would make her the star she always dreamed of becoming. So far, they were no better than us of course, but my sister had always been the gullible one. “Should we go beat him up?” Mark asks. His tone is lightly teasing, but I know damn well that if I say yes, he’d jump at the opportunity to bash someone’s face in.

“I’d love to, but we can’t,” I huff. “Danny would kill us if we got marked up before the competition.”

“Might be worth it, though,” Mark says with a not-so-innocent shrug, and I shake my head.

“It wouldn’t matter. It’s not like Sasha would learn any better. All we’d have as a consolation prize is an angry sister and a pissed-off team.”

We sit and stew in silence for a moment before my eye catches Danny crossing the lawn towards us. He’s beaming, which is a surprise because the last I saw, the girls he’d been talking to didn’t seem interested at all in the team. Also, Danny doesn’t smile much, to begin with.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Mark asks, folding his arms across his chest as Danny stops in front of us, leaning against the closest tree with a smirk.

“Did you see her?” he asks, and Mark frowns.

“See who?”

“The girl I was talking to.”

“No.”

“I did,” I tell him. “Which one are you talking about? The blond or the pixie cut?”

“Both, but the blond specifically.”

“What about her?”

Danny is still smirking, like he’s hiding some secret he can’t wait to break. “I invited her to tryouts tomorrow night,” he informs us, and even Mark has the decency to look shocked.

“Private tryouts?” he confirms, and Danny nods. “But why?”

“She’s a dancer. Ballet.”

I look at Mark, who’s now squinting up at Danny with a puzzled frown. “I thought we were set for girls,” he pouts. “The ones we have already aren’t any good.”

“She’s good,” Danny says confidently. “I can tell.”

I almost keep my mouth shut, but I’m too curious to ignore it. “No offense, man, but she didn’t really seem interested, did she?”

“No,” Danny confirms. “Not really. But it doesn’t matter, because I can see it in her. There’s something about her that this team needs.”

“That doesn’t do much good if she doesn’t show up to tryouts.” I toss back the remainder of my water before crumpling up the empty bottle and tossing it toward the bin. It hits the side, bounces off, and rolls back to my feet. Mark sniggers before standing up to grab the bottle and tosses it himself. It lands square in the middle, just like always. I feign irritation before turning to look at Danny.

“Fine,” I say. “But if she doesn’t show up and/or disappoints you, I forbid you from pouting about it for the next three months.”

“Deal,” Danny says, still beaming. Mark leans into me and rolls his eyes.

“As if.”