The Hit List (15 page)

The lift isn’t new. We’ve done it a hundred times and I don’t expect this time to be any different
.

That’s my first mistake
.

My foot slips against the fabric of Patrick’s shorts. He corrects it quickly, but the damage is done. I overcompensate for the change in balance and my upper body sways
.

Patrick isn’t fast enough. When I lean forward to protect myself, he grabs whatever he can. My hip shreds before I hit the floor
.

My second mistake was believing he would stick around for my recovery
.

Breathing is the least of my worries when Luke shifts slightly underneath me. Fear closes in around me.

He’s going to drop me.

My mind goes into overdrive as I plan an escape route from the lift with the least amount of damage to myself. I lean back slightly so I’m angled to drop right to the floor on my feet instead of on my face. My feet slide off Luke’s thighs before I’m ready. His hands slip from my hips and he catches me around the waist before I hit the floor. Disappointment shoots through me and every failure in the last few weeks weighs heavy on my heart.

Luke releases me immediately and takes a step back. “You were fine. I was just getting into a better position. There was no chance I was going to drop you.”

Miss Tasha throws her hands up in the air. “I give up. You two are useless.” She stalks out of the studio.

“Well, that was rude.” Luke stares at the door as it bangs shut behind her.

I sit down in a straddle, letting my muscles cool down in a stretch so they don’t tense up. “She’s right. I’m useless. I’m never going to be able to do this.” Tears form in my eyes and I press the heels of my hands against them. I’m tired and I’m stressed.

“You just need to have more faith.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” I ask, waiting for his miracle solution that I know he doesn’t have. If he did, we wouldn’t be in this situation.

He smiles and holds out his hand. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“I’m not in the mood. I want to stay here and practice.” I stand up without taking his hand and brush the dust off my butt.

He walks toward the door. “You’re going to be practicing by yourself then. I need a break.”

I shouldn’t go. We need to practice more, but practicing without Luke is pointless. I already know I’m good without him. If I go, I’m stuck wherever he decides to take me. But the break sounds nice and it’s been a while since I’ve gotten off this campus. “Fine, but I need to change first.”

I change quickly because I’m excited to get out of the school for a while. It has nothing to do with the fact that I’ll be spending the day with Luke outside the studio. Absolutely not.

He isn’t back when I’m done getting ready so I walk to his room. I’m almost there when I hear the soft sounds of someone crying. A girl sits on a bench in the hallway. Her tears fall onto her shirt. A collection of darker dots has formed where they fall. She glances up at me and starts to wipe frantically at her tears, as if she can erase the evidence of the mascara rivers on her cheeks.

“Hey, are you okay?” I sit down on the bench next to her.

She continues to wipe at the tears that don’t seem to be stopping. “I’m fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She is anything but fine. It feels rude to just leave her here when she’s obviously upset.

She takes a deep breath that sounds more like a bunch of little gasps as she tries to gain composure. “I slept with this guy. Turns out he just wanted some points in that fucking Hit List game.”

I should have guessed that was the issue. I wonder how long it will continue before something devastating happens.

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

She glares at me. “Yeah, it does.”

I reach out to put my arm around her shoulder and give her a little comfort, but she leans away from me. “Have you thought about going to the faculty and telling them about it?”

“Are you crazy? For what? So I can be called a narc by every other person at this school? So I can ruin everyone’s
fun
? I don’t think so.”

I shift on the bench. I don’t know what to say to make her feel better. “It might make it better. Maybe some of the guys will get in trouble. I heard a couple got expelled for fighting.”

She rolls her eyes. “Why don’t
you
tell someone? I hear people talking about you all the time. You’re almost on top of the polls week after week. They all want you. Every single guy playing that game.”

I don’t want to believe that the guys I interact with on a daily basis could be playing, but I know some of them are. Still, there are some decent ones in this school. There aren’t enough spots for guys playing to make up the entire male student body. “Not everyone is playing. The good ones can’t help that this game is going on, but there are good ones out there.”

“Like who? Luke Morrison? Come on. Do you really think he’s interested in your brain?” She raises an eyebrow. Her arm falls across her lap like she doesn’t have the energy to hold it up. Probably because she’s so shocked at my naïveté.

“He’s not playing.” I fidget with the loose armrest on the bench.

He can’t be. Everything I’ve built with him over the past few weeks would be a lie if he were playing. I refuse to believe that’s a possibility.

It kind of makes sense, though.

She laughs bitterly. “Is that what he told you? You’re stupid if you believe that.”

Maybe I am stupid. It wouldn’t be the first time I believed good things about a person when they turned out to only care about themselves.

I take deep breaths while I try to ignore what she says. He’s not playing. I have to believe that. The second I start to question it, everything goes downhill. The second I think he’s lying, this partnership is dead.

She stands up and crosses her arms. “If you guys are really into each other then why aren’t you dating?” She waves her hand through the air and doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I’ll tell you why. He can’t get points for you if you’re dating.”

She walks away, leaving me close to tears on the bench. I’m so glad I stopped to see if I could help her.

Shake it off. It’s not worth getting upset over this. He’s not playing.

I head toward Luke’s room again. I won’t let what this one girl said ruin my day. We’ll still have a good day off campus. I’ll make sure of it.

I lean against the wall outside his room and drum my fingers on my arm. Maybe he’ll take me someplace special. Like out to dinner or something.

My fingers freeze mid-drum. I don’t want to go out to dinner. That would make this some kind of date. And this is definitely not a date.

A boy from my music class walks toward me. I smile to be polite as he gets closer, but he takes it as a different meaning.

He stops in front of me and brushes his bangs out of his eyes. The piercings in his lip and eyebrow reflect the fluorescent light in the hallway and the unknown band shirt he wears is ripped in a couple places. “You’re Sadie, right? We have music together.”

I smile. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t know your name,” I say, still trying to maintain my manners even though he’s giving me a creepy vibe.

“I’m Mike. I’m a theater student.” He holds out his hand, but I don’t take it and he runs it through his hair like that was his plan all along. He just looks awkward. I should really learn not to engage with anyone. Or even be polite, for that matter. Just because I’m nice to people doesn’t mean I want to have sex with everyone I meet. Maybe if I’m a bitch to everyone I see, they won’t bother approaching.

“So, I hear dancers are really flexible.” He winks at me.

I don’t even know how to dignify Mike’s comment with a response. It’s degrading and he deserves to be punched for it, but I’m classier than that. I settle for staring back at him, making him feel as uncomfortable as possible. He doesn’t leave.

Instead he shuffles nervously from foot to foot. “How’s your day going?”

I roll my eyes, ready to walk back to my room. Luke will figure it out eventually. The door opens beside me and Luke steps out. He stands next to me and swipes my hair off my shoulder, kissing the bare skin next to my tank top. “She’s taken. Sorry, bro.”

Warmth spreads down my arm. I shake my arm behind my back to get rid of the feeling. I think he was trying to help, but it was anything but helpful. It made me feel like I belonged to him. Which is so not the case.

Mike looks between us a couple times. “Well, it was nice to officially meet you. I’ll see you in class.”

Luke steps away from me as soon as Mike is out of earshot. “I’m really sorry, but I could hear him through the door and I thought I’d help you out. I didn’t mean to say we were dating, it just kind of came out.”

He can’t get points for you if you’re dating
.

I feel like someone pushed me into a pool. I can’t breathe. I can’t find the surface. Everywhere I turn, I’m faced with the feeling of Luke’s lips on my shoulder. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you ready to go? If you don’t want to, it’s okay, but I promise I won’t do anything like that again.”

My heart stutters as I nod. “No, let’s go.”

I follow him out of the building. I shouldn’t be hurt by his promise, and I don’t want to be. But I can’t help feeling a little disappointed that he felt the need to promise it in the first place.

We stand on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, surrounded by stars. People wander between each of the monuments. Some just look. Others take pictures.

“We don’t have time for this. I could be doing a million other things right now and none of them include staring at names on a sidewalk,” I whine.

With everything else feeling so much more important, it’s hard to be impressed by a bunch of stars. Luke grabs my hand and pulls me forward through the crowd.

“We’re here for more than looking at names on a sidewalk. This is what I use for inspiration when I’m feeling like a failure. Do you know how many people on this sidewalk failed or were told by someone important they would never succeed?”

I don’t want to let go of his hand so I follow him. I ignore the tiny voice that tells me to let go while I still can. We dodge a couple taking pictures and a group of people crowded around one particular star.

He stops in front of John Lennon’s star. Paul McCartney’s star is ahead of us a couple feet. A little girl runs up the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the crowd. Her older brother chases her. A teen girl stops next to us and takes a picture with her phone before moving onto another star.

“What do you know about The Beatles?” Luke asks, drawing my attention back to him.

“Everyone knows who The Beatles are, Luke.” I know they weren’t dancers so I’m not sure why it matters right now. I sigh and cross my arms.

“They were told by a record label that they had no future in show business when they were just starting out. They went on to sell millions of records. What do you think would have happened if they believed that guy and quit?” His thumb rubs circles on my hand.

It makes it hard to concentrate. I don’t care about names on a sidewalk when he does that. I don’t care much about anything because I can’t think when he touches me.

I know what he’s trying to do and I smile, grateful he cares but confused about why he’s going through the trouble for a friend. “They wouldn’t have seen their dream come true.”

“Exactly.”

He walks down another half a block. He doesn’t release my hand, but his fingers slip a little when he increases speed. I jump forward to solidify our connection again. His fingers tighten around my hand and my heart flips.

He stops in front of Elvis Presley’s star. There’s a crowd gathered and we have to wait a few seconds to get up close to it. He looks so happy while we wait. He catches me looking at him and squeezes my hand.

I wish he’d stop doing that. But not bad enough to pull my hand away.

“Elvis was fired after one performance at the Grand Ole Opry because the audience didn’t like his style. The manager told him to go back to his truck driving job in Memphis.”

The little girl who ran past us earlier looks up at Luke in fascination. He smiles down at her. The silent exchange does something to my heart, but I push the feeling down. My trust in him is building and I wouldn’t want to compromise that with something other than a friendship and partnership. Besides, he’s made it clear that’s all we are.

He walks faster to the next one. My hand is still glued to his. His energy is contagious and when he breaks into a run, I run too, a smile on my face.

We stop in front of another star.

“Fred Astaire.” I swing his hand in excitement.

“Arguably one of the best performers ever.” He lets go of me and I feel a pang of disappointment. Maybe he wouldn’t have noticed he was still holding onto me if I hadn’t started swinging our hands.

“He’s the reason I took my first tap class.” I pull out my phone and take a picture of the star.

I used to watch
Blue Skies
with my grandpa and dance around his living room to “Puttin’ on the Ritz.” I’d been captivated by the sounds Fred Astaire could make with his shoes and begged my parents to let me take a tap class if I promised to keep up with my ballet. It turned into one of my favorite classes before I dropped it to focus on preparing for a career in ballet and contemporary.