Offsetting Penalties Read online

  His words stuck in his throat. Her hair was pulled up so the purple didn’t show, her face was free of makeup, highlighting how pretty she was when she wasn’t trying to hide, and she wore a shape-hugging leotard and tights. Though she was thin, there were curves in all the right places. Finally, he managed to form words.

  “Where’s Miss Jenny?”

  Immediately, she moved her hands to her hips. “I told her I was taking over your lessons.”

  He raised a brow. “But I never agreed to your ridiculous…demand.”

  “Then why are you even here?”

  “I came for my lesson with Miss Jenny, but it looks like you’ve screwed that up for me, too.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll be watching you dance during the first pep rally, then.”

  He crossed his arms. “You do what you gotta do, and I’ll do what I gotta do.” In truth, she would show that video over his dead body, but he wasn’t going to give her any more ammunition.

  She pointed her foot and tapped her toes against the floor. “So you’re on board with me playing the video at school? Won’t that be embarrassing for you?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, sure it’ll be embarrassing, but once everybody has a good laugh, who do you think they’re gonna side with when they find out you’re the one who did it? The captain of the football team, or The Untouchable?”

  She gasped. “Don’t call me that!”

  Crap. Was that a tear she just wiped away? Who knew The Untouchable had feelings? This whole thing would’ve been so much easier if she were a complete bitch. But she wasn’t.

  Her composure returned and she shrugged. “Whatever. Maybe you’re not used to being ridiculed, but I am. There’s nothing they can come up with that someone else hasn’t already said about me.”

  Since he couldn’t think of a way to gracefully exit the conversation, he kept going, hoping she would back off. “I could ruin you, you know.”

  “The only opinions I care about are those of my friends, and you, of all people, definitely don’t have any power over them.”

  “You might be right, but I think you’re underestimating how much worse it could get for you.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  He had to give her credit for not backing down, but it was time to put more pressure on her until she gave up her stupid plan. There was no way he was going to dance on stage, no matter what she threatened.

  A few minutes of her trying to teach him should get his point across. Even if he wanted to dance with her, which he didn’t, there was no way he could learn fast enough to be ready in time.

  “Since you decided to get rid of my teacher, I guess I’ll have to deal with you tonight.”

  “Fine. Let’s get to work.” She turned and strode to the door, flipping off the light in the small studio and leading him into one of the larger rooms.

  “Go to the barre and stretch the way Jenny showed you.”

  Of course, because medieval torture techniques were the perfect way to develop more flexibility. He walked over to the barre and lifted his leg, resting his heel against it. A jolt of fire tore up the back of his leg all the way to his glutes.

  Joining him at the barre, she immediately bent herself in half. Her stomach touched her thighs. How was that even possible? He’d have to detach his spine to do that.

  “You need to move your arms forward and reach for your toes to stretch the backs of your legs.”

  “If I want to die, maybe,” he grunted. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Except the cat looked less evil than she did.

  “No, you have to keep your leg straight.” She reached over and pushed his knee down. Flames burned up from his calf to the back of his thigh.

  “Are you trying to break my leg?”

  “It hurts that bad?”

  Beads of sweat rolled down his face, and it wasn’t hot in the studio.

  “Okay… Why don’t we start with some floor stretches to get you warmed up for the barre.” Her eyes narrowed as she watched him use his hands to lift his foot off the barre. “Show me the stretches you do before you play football.”

  He shrugged and went to the wall, where he placed his hands flat against it and stretched one leg out behind him, then switched and did the same with the other. Then he grabbed the top of his foot and bent his knee to stretch his thigh muscles. After repeating with the other leg, he turned to face her.

  “That’s it?”

  “Pretty much, as far as stretches go.” What had she expected? “We usually jog a few laps around the field to warm up, and of course we do knee jugs and lunges and inchworms and stuff like that.”

  She raised a brow. “Inchworms?”

  “Do you want me to show you?”

  “I’d like nothing more.”

  With her arms crossed, she watched as he got down on the floor on his stomach, then pushed up onto his hands and slid his feet back and, keeping his back and hips straight, began to inch them forward until his body was in a reverse V. Then he walked his hands out and followed them again with his feet.

  “That’s not a stretch.”

  “Well it hurts like one.”

  “No wonder you got injured. For stretching to work, you have to hold the position for at least a ten count. Preferably longer. And to do you any good, you need to start stretching at least half an hour a day. More would be better.”

  Maybe she did know what she was doing.

  “What type of stretches are we talking about?”

  “Clearly, you’re not ready for splits yet, but there are some simple stretches I can show you.” She patted his arm. “Don’t be afraid. These are the stretches I use for the princess camps. Even toddlers can do them.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Anytime.” She grinned, and he shook his head. He had no idea how to read her. One minute she looked ready to cry, and the next she was giving him crap.

  “Stand with your feet parallel, and with your legs straight, slowly bend your torso forward.”

  She bent and placed her hands flat against the floor. He could barely touch his kneecaps.

  “O-kay…well, keep practicing.”

  He tried again, this time stretching his fingers just below his knees. Isabelle put her hand on his back and pushed down until it was flat. “Does that hurt?”

  Her warm hand against his back sent a jolt through him. Then intense pain. “It burns a bit,” he panted out.

  “Good, that means it’s working.”

  “Sadist,” he mumbled.

  To his surprise, she laughed. “You’ll soon be calling me worse than that. Just remember, your goal is to be able to put your hands flat on the ground with your legs and back straight.”

  “Sure, ’cause that’s gonna happen. Not.”

  She gave him the evil eye. “The more you stretch, the more flexible you’ll be. Practice makes perfect.”

  “Gah. Now you sound like Coach.”

  “Excellent. Now, with your arm straight but not locked at the elbow, reach up over your head and bend to the side slowly while maintaining your lines.”

  “My what?”

  “Stay aligned.” She circled around him while sweat dripped off him.

  “Good, but remember to keep your headlights straight.”

  What the… “Excuse me?”

  She grinned. “Sorry. It’s something we tell the younger girls in class.” She walked over to him and grabbed the outside of his hips.

  “What’re you doing?” She was way too close to places she shouldn’t be. He was getting lightheaded. Probably because he stopped breathing when she touched him.

  “Think of your hips as your headlights. When you drive you follow their path, right?”

  He nodded rapidly, unable to focus with her hands still on him.

  “So make sure you keep your hips straight to keep your body aligned properly. Your headlights, or hip bones, lead the way.”

  “Um, okay.” He tilte
d his head down to stare at her hands, which were still on him.

  Finally catching on, she pulled her hands away as if he were on fire. Which he kind of was.

  “Sorry!” Her face colored and she turned away from him. “We don’t have any boys around here, so I’m used to just”—she gulped—“manhandling everyone.”

  Under different circumstances, he might not have minded her manhandling him.

  “Go ahead and try again.”

  He did. “That’s not so bad.”

  “See? Now repeat that on the other side.”

  She watched closely as he did it. Once he’d recovered from her groping, he was glad there was finally something he hadn’t epically failed at.

  “How do you stretch your hip flexors?”

  Not the hips again. “You mean like the pigeon stretch and the Spiderman stretch?”

  She sighed. “Show me.”

  He did, and she nodded in approval. Or at least, that’s how he took it.

  “What have you been doing to rehab from your injury?”

  “Lots of stuff with exercise bands. But I’ve been cleared to play, so I’m not doing rehab anymore. I have to work on my strength and flexibility.”

  She sat on the floor. “Yeah, the need for more flexibility is pretty obvious. Are you ready to work hard? Even harder than you do on the field?”

  “Are you serious? Dancing can hardly compare to football.”

  Her eyes flashed. “We’ll see about that. I won’t waste my time helping you stretch again. You’re responsible for doing that on your own. Before we can move on to actual dancing, you need to learn the five positions.”

  “I haven’t agreed to dance with you.”

  “You will.”

  “I don’t care who your father is. I’m not going to dance on stage.”

  She stiffened. “We’ll just see about that. And my father has nothing to do with this. Now show me first position.”

  He brought his heels together like Miss Jenny had shown him and turned his feet to the side.

  “Where should your arms be?”

  He immediately extended them out, like he was hugging an invisible person.

  “Your legs have to be straight.”

  He forced his knees to lock.

  “Right. Your heels aren’t touching anymore.”

  Damn. If he had his legs straight, his heels didn’t touch, and if his heels were together, it was impossible to fully straighten his legs. He was an all-state football player. He should be able to do this. Toddlers were more flexible than he was.

  “Work on your stretches. Now second position.”

  Crap. He’d forgotten which was which. “Is this the one with the feet apart?”

  She raised a brow, managing to look both annoyed and disappointed.

  “Third position.”

  He couldn’t straighten his legs any more now than he had a few minutes ago.

  Ignoring the burn, he managed to slide his heels together and hold the position for about a second before he lost his balance. He tasted her disdain in the air.

  “Fifth position.”

  This was the worst. Determined to do it right, he shoved his feet together and lifted his arms over his head, then toppled to the side and let himself fall to the ground.

  Surprisingly, Isabelle stretched out on the floor next to him, both of them on their backs.

  “I admit this is a bit more difficult than I expected. Miss Jenny isn’t as much of a taskmaster as you.”

  She turned to face him and smiled. An actual, genuine smile. A little zing went through his stomach.

  “It gets easier the more you practice. How often do you want to meet? Three times a week would be the minimum to make this work, and that’s if you stretch on your own at least twice a day.”

  “The minimum to make what work? Your performance? Or my flexibility? Because I still haven’t agreed to dance with you, and I’m not going to.”

  “Both. You can’t have one without the other.”

  “I’m pretty sure I could gain flexibility without performing with you.”

  They were still about a foot apart and making some serious eye contact. She seemed so normal. Aside from the blackmail. He was dying to ask what the whole Goth thing was about, but he didn’t. “How about this. I’ll let you keep giving me free lessons, but I’m not going to dance with you.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Fine. I’ll give you free lessons for another week, and if you don’t agree to dance with me by then, I’ll ask my father to take out a hit on you.”

  A quick study of her face revealed that she was joking. He was about 75 percent sure of it.

  “Deal. With two-a-days, there’s no way I can come more than three times a week. I don’t expect to have more time once school starts, either, but we won’t have to do this so late once we drop the evening practice. Assuming I can convince you to keep giving me free lessons, that is.”

  “I think you mean once you stop resisting and agree to dance with me.”

  “Let’s agree to disagree.” He stood and offered her his hand, which she took. It was no effort at all to pull her up. Another little zing of awareness shot through him.

  She let go of his hand and cleared her throat. “You can let yourself out.” She turned away from him.

  “Aren’t you leaving, too?”

  “In a bit.”

  Even though this was technically still the safe side of town, he didn’t like the idea of her alone in the parking lot. “Can I help you close up?”

  She turned and studied him. “Thanks anyway, but there isn’t much to do but turn off the lights and lock the doors.”

  Though she hadn’t said much, her tone made it clear he wasn’t needed. “See you Sunday.”

  He strode down the hall and out into the parking lot. She hadn’t parked close to the building, or even near a light. His dad had grown up in a rough area of Houston, so he’d taught Garret all about how to be smart and stay safe, and a girl by herself in a dark parking lot definitely wasn’t his idea of safe.

  It was almost midnight and he had to be at school by six for practice, but he wasn’t leaving until she was safe inside her car, so he inventoried everything that needed to be fixed on his Mustang. It was a long list, but it’d be a sweet ride when he finished. The hood of his car shone in the moonlight. It had been painted, but one of the side panels was a replacement from the salvage yard and he hadn’t gotten around to painting it yet. There were two other panels in the back that needed an overcoat if he could make the time. And the money.

  The dent on the driver’s side mirror bothered him, but there was no way to fix it. He’d been keeping an eye out for another one to appear at the yard, but he’d had no luck so far. It was a fluke that he’d been able to find the car, let alone parts for it. Most of the 65s that were still around were too valuable to end up as junk, so replacement pieces were hard to find.

  A door closed and he turned back to see Isabelle striding toward her car. The door locks beeped, then her voice carried through the parking lot. “You didn’t need to wait.”

  Of course she’d say that. Sometimes being a nice guy didn’t seem worth the effort.

  Chapter Four

  Going to orientation was pointless. Izzy had been in the same school district her entire life and had attended Brinson High School for the last three years. If she didn’t know where everything was by now, she was too stupid to be attending school at all. Still, she was excited to see her friends again. Aside from her time at the dance studio, she’d been pretty isolated over the summer. The rich families in Brinson went to cooler places during the summer, and the less fortunate ones had to work.

  She spotted Audrey’s car entering the parking lot and took one last look to make sure everything was in place. Black dress and tights, check. Purple hair, check. Dark eye makeup and lipstick, check. Earrings, check. Fake nose ring, check.

  Reluctantly, she turned off Robert Smith’s haunting voice and got
out of her car. The Cure wasn’t strictly a Goth band, but it had been her mother’s favorite group. When she was old enough to start exploring the house on her own, she’d come across all of their albums in a box of 1980s cassette tapes. At first she wasn’t sure what to think of their sound, but the more she listened, the more their music resonated with her. It was one of the few things she could share with the mother she’d never known.

  “Are you ready for this?” Audrey asked.

  “Let’s just get it over with. We’ll have to suffer through the obligatory welcome from Principal Sanchez, then we can grab our schedules and leave.”

  Audrey frowned. “I think we’re required to walk around to each classroom and pick up the syllabus, or homework, or whatever crap the teachers are handing out to force us to stay.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes and headed toward the entrance to the gym. “I have to go back to the studio for a late lesson, so let’s do this as fast as possible.”

  When they were about ten feet from the door, the group in front of them opened it, releasing a wave of incomprehensible noise and the faint smell of stale locker rooms. “Clearly, Dr. Sanchez hasn’t taken the podium yet.”

  “Look, there’s Stacy.” Audrey took her hand and pulled her through the crowd.

  Suddenly, her forward momentum stopped and she looked up into Garret’s eyes. Warmth swirled through her stomach.

  “Hey, Harley Quinn. How’s it going?” He winked and moved past her.

  Harley Quinn?

  Audrey stared at Izzy like an owl, her eyes so wide it had to hurt. “Did he just talk to you…how…?”

  “Just be quiet. I’ll explain later.”

  “No, you’ll explain now,” Audrey said in a stage whisper.

  Izzy glanced over her shoulder. Garret shrugged, as if his friend Elliot was grilling him, too.

  “Then we’re not sitting with Stacy. She couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.” After glancing to the left, then the right, Audrey dragged her through the sea of people heading for the bleachers and detoured toward the nearest bathroom. Pushing the door open with more force than was necessary, she did a sweep of the stalls, checking each one before turning back to Izzy.