Chapter 1 As #2
"For sure," he nods, repeating my words. "I will see you soon then, Cassidy Slater."
"Okay," I say with a half giggle that sounds nervous even though I'm not.
I'm not.
He turns and walks out, tailed by the other man. As soon as the door clicks shut, I swivel to face Toni. "What. The. Actual. Frick? Did that just happen?" I say, my mouth nearly as wide as Toni's eyes.
"Oh my, you're in trouble," he says, his lips now a mischievous curve.
"Who would have thought that Jimmy Storm likes ballet?" I rub my cheeks in disbelief. "Hey, why am I in trouble? Don't say that."
He looks at me, animated as usual. "A private viewing for Mr. Storm."
"Stop it. He never said he wanted a private viewing. Jebus, Toni!"
"Jesus, darlin’. It was subliminal."
"You're subliminal." I chuckle as I turn to the mirror to finish removing my makeup.
Toni sighs with disappointment. "I'd like to be subliminal in a sexy boy by now, but we're still here. Here, instead of being at your party."
I turn my nose up. "I don't get it."
He stares down at his phone, which is always pinging away with gossip. "That's because you are an asexual pigeon."
"I'm not an asexual pigeon," I sulk, giving my face a final wipe before dabbing moisturiser below my eyes.
"Yeah, you are." He lowers his phone, and I already know he's about to start a monologue.
"You're scared and way too picky. You know, you could have anyone you want.
.. Nearly anyone—not me. I mean, I'd give you a pity hump, but I'd be thinking about Mark Wahlberg.
But no, you, my girl, have big girl-boners all the time, but you tuck them in your leotard and get back to acting like an asexual pigeon.
You are too afraid that a slice of cock will derail your ambitions. " Toni coos like a pigeon.
I scowl at him half-heartedly and feel the need to say something dirty. "Well, I think the guy I like has a whole cake, not a slice."
Toni cracks up laughing. "Look, let's go get feral, and I think you should just, like, purr all over someone's face tonight."
"I'm not going to lose my virginity on my eighteenth birthday. It's too cliché."
Looking straight at my reflection, dead serious, he raises a sharply tweezed eyebrow. "Look, darlin’. Firstly, purring on his face isn’t going to take away your V-card. I know most guys are dickheads, but it doesn’t work like that."
I giggle, pulling the bobby pins from my hair and letting it cascade over my shoulders.
"And secondly." He suddenly frowns at me. "Are you leaving your hair like that?"
"What's wrong with it?"
Toni looks exasperated. "You have incredible hair. Long. Strawberry-blonde. Wavy. Don’t you want to wash it, so it isn't all sticky and stiff from that hair Viagra they spray on you?"
I laugh. Grabbing my leave-in hair conditioner from inside my cosmetic bag, I spray it all over my hair and rub it in. "Better? Why does it matter? Everyone knows I'm coming from a performance."
Toni smirks, a secret clearly lingering on his smug lips.
My eyes narrow. "What do you know?"
"I saw a tweet just before I got here," he says, still brandishing a big grin. "And, well, ya know, apparently, a certain Butcher boy might be coming to your party."
I clear my throat but wish that I didn't because Toni is now smirking like a fricking fox that's just caught a hen. "Okay," I say. "Look, I know I have this little crush and I said a few things, but it's not a big deal. Please... please, don't make it a big de—"
"Firstly, I'd call it an infatuation, not a crush.
You're seconds away from drawing hearts with little Ms in them on your leotards," he objects.
"And secondly, you have never crushed on anyone.
Ever. Before. And then you happen to crush on the most notorious manwhore in the District?
This. This is a sign. Prove you're not an asexual pigeon and take his enormous cake and eat it. Tonight!"
I stand and turn from him evasively before sliding my leotard down my shoulders and shimmying it past my legs. My heart begins to race. I shift from one foot to the other, trying to pull it off. "I doubt he even knows my name," I mumble.
"Maybe not. But he will after toniiiiight. Purr. On. His. Face."
My pulse thunders in my ears. Max Butcher is the last person on earth who would find me the least bit interesting.
I have spent my whole life studying and dancing.
I have no social skills. I’m awkward and weird and completely inappropriate and so very uncool, especially whenever I open my mouth around intimidating people—like him.
Finally managing to tug my stockings off, I chuck them towards my bag. "He's coming to hang out with Flick, you know that. It has nothing to do with me."
I don't want to keep talking because talking to Toni right now is just going to freak me out. But if I don't talk to him, then he'll know I'm freaked out. Which I'm not. Unless he talks to me.
Feeling my skin flush, I don't look at Toni, but I can sense his eyes on me.
When I'm down to my underwear, I riffle through my bag to find clothes for tonight.
Clothes that I know aren't in here because I didn’t pack any 'Max Butcher' appropriate clothes because I didn’t know I would be fricking needing them!
After moving the same three pieces of clothing around again and again, I finally pull them out.
Acting like that didn't just happen, I turn to face Toni with a feigned grin.
"So red playsuit and cream ballet flats, it is. "