The Wrong Girl_Hanson University_Book Two

by McKenna Kerrick

  “Dance isn’t supposed to always be about having a song with words,” I shrug.

  “Okay, but what if you do it anyways?” He pauses. “Or is it against the rules or something?”

  “No,” I say hesitate after a moment. “It’s not against the rules. I guess I just have it in my head that I shouldn’t have to have lyrics to be able to tell a story, you know? Like I’m cheating somehow then.”

  “I don’t see it that way. I doubt anyone else would either.”

  He’s right. I know he is, and I know that others see it the way he does as well, but I’m too in my head to see it that way.

  Alex squeezes me until I huff out a breath. “You’re back in your head,” he says.

  “Just let it happen,” I sigh and snuggle into his chest. God, he’s the perfect height to relax into. I know size isn’t supposed to matter, per se, but we fit like missing puzzle pieces. “So, words?” I tilt my head back to look at him.

  “Words.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, I love you. But I stop myself before looking like an idiot. It’s too soon for that. We’re barely even a whatever we are to say something so serious. The mushy part gets shoved back down inside, where it can hang out with the inner girl who never really let go of Alex in the first place.

  “Maybe a slow song,” Alex offers. “Aren’t slow songs great for dancing?”

  “Sometimes. But I don’t want it to feel like it’s dragging on.”

  “You have to have something on here that has words.” Alex angles his head back towards my little radio with a small CD player.

  “I might.” Reluctantly, I step away from him and towards my little music player. I press the forward button, skipping a few songs until I land on one I know has lyrics.

  “Alright,” Alex folds his arms across his chest. “Impress me.”

  I roll my eyes at that.

  “No, seriously,” he says. “You impress me all the time, just try and feel what the song is conveying. It’ll probably go better that way.”

  “This still feels like cheating.”

  “Then think of it as a way to practice before trying to make up a routine.”

  When he puts it like that, as a way to just help get out of my head, it makes sense. It does feel like cheating, even though it really isn’t. So I tilt my head back, closing my eyes as the song starts to play.

  The piano begins a slow introduction before a slow song starts. I know I told Alex that slow songs weren’t always best, but this is one of my favorites. I lean my head back, holding my hands above my head before I slowly start to twirl around, pointing my toes and rocking my body to the rhythmic chords of the acoustic guitar and piano.

  Brett Young’s deep voice fills the small dance studio with his song Mercy, where when he gets to the chorus I leap before falling, similar to how I did before. But this time, when I crumble in on myself and land on my back, I kick my feet in the air, pretending that I’m pushing off the sorrow that fills me.

  I turn, on my knees to bend my arm above my head, staring at Alex the whole time when Brett Young sings, if you ever loved me, have mercy. And once the final chords are strung, the final tickle of the ivory keys stop, I stand in a slow motion, drawing my body up as if I’ve suddenly discovered what it feels like to stand on your own.

  Alex doesn’t move. Whether it was my song choice or my short performance, he just stands there staring. I clasp my hands together in front of me, bouncing a little on my toes as I wait for him to say anything. Literally anything. Because this deafening silence is making me spaz a little on the inside.

  “So?” I prompt. “How was it with lyrics?”

  Alex keeps staring.

  “If it was honestly that bad that you can’t say anything, I would really prefer you just to say it,” I huff and throw my hands in the air. “I can take it. I’m a professional. Ish. I’m professional-ish,” I correct.

  Alex blinks a few more times before he starts walking towards me. His face isn’t changing any and his strides are purposeful. As soon as he’s close enough, his arms shoot out and grip the top of my shoulders, hauling me towards his body in a jerky movement.

  “What–”

  He bends his head down, capturing my mouth in a swift kiss that would knock me off my feet if he weren’t holding on to my shoulders to keep me up. It starts out rough, his mouth demanding mine to yield under his, before he lightens the kiss. A soft press of lips, over and over again that take my breath away even more than when the kiss started.

  After another moment, he puts a little space between us, just continuing to stare at me. But now I can see the fire in his eyes, the softness in his features. And it’s then I realize at some point I must have reacted to his kiss, because his shirt is curled up inside my fists. I smooth out the fabric and give him a lopsided smile.

  “That was truly beautiful,” he murmurs quietly. “I felt it. Whatever emotion you wanted to convey, it was written all over you. The way your face looked, the way you moved your body. Everything.”

  “So I get kisses when I dance, is that how it works?”

  “Definitely.” He leans forward, pressing a light kiss to my forehead. “That was definitely a statement song.”

  I arch my eyebrows. “What’s a statement song?”

  “Something you feel,” he taps my chest above my heart, “right here.”

  “So I should use a statement song for my scholarship audition?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Definitely,” I echo softly, thinking it over. If it brought out this kind of reaction in Alex, then what would it do to a crowd? Have them standing on their feet?

  “Now you just have to find a longer song,” Alex grins. “God, it’s going to be so cool seeing you up on stage again.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” I laugh.

  “Come on, let’s go grab some food,” Alex takes my hand and tugs on it. “Watching you workout is making me hungry.”

  “Hungry?”

  “I always get hungry after a workout, and apparently that happens when I watch you dance.”

  I laugh at Alex as he makes a face.

  We grab my bag and I slip into my flats before we head out of the room holding hands. It’s an odd feeling, but only because it feels like deja vu when we’re like this. Something we’ve done thousands of times before, but it still feels new each time.

  On the walk across campus, I curl into his side as his arm goes around my shoulders to protect me from the cold. I really need to start bringing a thicker jacket now that winter is settling in and not going anywhere any time soon. The door to the Union is held open for us as we make our way inside.

  “This is really nice,” I say as we come in.

  “What is?”

  “Not hating each other?” I offer. “I don’t know how to explain it. I’m probably sounding like I don’t make any sense, just ignore me.”

  Alex smirks at me. “I knew you didn’t hate me.”

  I roll my eyes and poke him in the stomach with my finger. “I never hated you.”

  “I know,” he shrugs. “And it’s nice knowing that. We both grew up and to think where we’d both be if we hadn’t broken up? Who knows? But we know where we’re at now, and that has to count for something.”

  “Okay, that sounded a lot better than what I said.”

  “I must be the more romantic one,” he boasts.

  I start laughing as we step in line at the Tex-Mex counter. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

  “You told me I wasn’t romantic, and I was supposed to just take it?”

  “Yes?” I question while fighting back a smile.

  “You’re terrible,” he mock scowls. “Do you know that? Absolutely terrible and give me no option but to take it as a challenge.”

  “To be romantic?”

  “Romantic as shit,” Alex says proudly. “There’s a difference. Regular romance is being a typical guy, ‘cause we don’t even know what the hell we’re doi
ng. But being romantic as shit is that we know we’re being romantic on purpose.”

  “Shouldn’t romance always be on purpose?”

  “Grace, why do you keep arguing with me?” he sighs.

  I shrug. “It’s fun?”

  “You’re such a twerp.”

  We both laugh at that and then order our food as we get closer to the counter. The guy in a hairnet does a double take at Alex, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he makes our tacos on the other side of the little glass partial that separates us. I guess it’s just going to take some getting used to that people know who Alex is. And while Alex goes all-out with his beef taco, I settle on grilled chicken to somewhat keep my diet in check.

  “Look, our best friends are over there,” Alex sighs loudly.

  “Who?” I ask and peer around his shoulder to see Ian, Killian, and Lila all sitting at a round table together. “Come on, Mr. Romantic, let’s go see them.”

  “Maybe we need new friends who don’t get involved in our life,” Alex squints at me. “Did you ever think about being friends with people who aren’t annoying?”

  “You’re just mad about bowling still,” I stick my tongue out at him.

  “Whatever.”

  We sit down at the open chairs at the table, and Alex immediately starts bothering Killian about possibly stalking us to the Union, even though they were here first. Lila leans over to wave hello to me before settling back in her chair.

  “How’s classes going?” I lean around Killian’s back to talk to Lila.

  “Great,” she sighs. “I forget that sometimes I hate art when deadlines are involved. Just let me have my freedom and quit being a judgemental ass when what I do isn’t the style you like.”

  “Wow,” I stare at her. “That was very angry-sounding.”

  “My professor told me that he wasn’t fond of how I do my drawings with loose lines, and that I needed to change it or my grade was going to suffer,” she scowls. “I’ve been going here for years and no one has ever had a problem with it. He’s got a stick up his ass.”

  “Sounds like it,” I murmur in agreement.

  “What about you?”

  “Good, I’ve been working on my dance for the scholarship a lot,” I sigh and roll my shoulders. “It’s a lot tougher than I thought it was going to be.”

  “She did amazing today,” Alex butts in to our conversation. “You should have seen her, it was awesome.”

  Lila blinks over at him. “It’s got to be good if Alex is praising something other than football.”

  “Hey,” Alex scowls.

  “Ignore her,” Killian says and clasps his hand over Lila’s mouth. “She’s being bitchy today after her professor pissed her off. We’re very proud of you, Grace. And look at Alex being the best boyfriend praising your dancing.”

  “Best boyfriend,” I smirk.

  Lila mumbles something behind Killian’s hand.

  “What was that?” Killian leans down without removing his hand. “Are you going to be nice or are we still dealing with grumpy Lila?”

  Lila glares at him before rolling her eyes. He releases her mouth and she punches his arm. “You’re ridiculous. Sorry, Alex, I wasn’t meaning it in a bad way. I think it’s just different from what we’re used to. Pre-Grace,” Lila clarifies.

  “I get it,” Alex sighs. “It’s okay. I was different before Grace walked her way back into my life.”

  Lila melts at that. “Aw!” she coos. “That was so cute.”

  Killian rolls his eyes. “Cute, my ass.”

  Alex ignores both of them to look at me. He points to himself as he says, “Romantic as shit.”

  “Oh my God,” I laugh and take a sip of my water. “Let it go already, dude.”

  “You’re just jealous you’re not as romantic,” Alex teases and tugs on a piece of my hair. “Just accept it, Grace. You have a super romantic boyfriend.”

  “Okay, I give,” I hold up my hands. “You’re a super romantic boyfriend.”

  “Say it again,” Alex grins.

  “I’m not feeding your ego anymore than I just did,” I snort. “Forget it.”

  “No, no, not that part,” Alex shakes his head. “The part where you called me your boyfriend.”

  “I thought we established that you were my boyfriend,” I say.

  “We did, I just like hearing it,” Alex smirks.

  “God, they’re nauseating,” Killian sighs loudly.

  Ian finally speaks up, “You’re both nauseating.”

  “He speaks!” Killian grins.

  And that’s how lunch goes.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Alex

  “Alright,” I huff and look over at where Ian is doing push ups next to me. “What’s the deal with you?”

  “What?” Ian frowns.

  “You haven’t been around much. So what’s going on?” I press.

  “Yeah!” Killian hollers from his spot across the field. “I wanna know, too!”

  “Quit being a nosy asshole!” I holler back at him.

  “You’re both being nosy,” Ian points out. “What is wrong with you two that you can’t mind your own business?”

  “Because you’re being weird, and you’re our friend. And we’re gossipy girls,” I chuckle. “Come on, you know better than to ask that. So what’s up?”

  Ian hesitates long enough for Killian to make his way over to us. “That bet I had with Grace, when I drug her into the locker room so you two would talk?” Ian sighs. “Since I lost the bet, I had to kiss a girl. So I did in the middle of the Union at the end of lunch. It wasn’t super crowded or anything. And now I found out the girl I kissed is my little sister’s best friend.”

  Killian pauses. “That is some fucked up karma.”

  “I know,” Ian closes his eyes briefly.

  “Do you like her?” I ask.

  Ian frowns at me. “Yeah, I do. But there’s no way I’m dating my little sister’s friend. That’s weird.”

  “You’re three years apart, it’s not that weird,” I shrug. “Unless she doesn’t like you, then it’s weird. But only weird for you.”

  “This is why I didn’t say anything,” Ian says as he rolls over onto his back on the field. “You both are no fucking help.”

  “I didn’t realize you were asking for help,” Killian snorts. “Aren’t you usually the one with all the answers to relationship juju?”

  “Juju?” I arch an eyebrow at my best friend.

  “Lila has been focusing on this New Orleans style artwork, with painting ghosts in the background,” Killian rolls his eyes. “Fucking creeps me out, but she calls it juju.”

  “Maybe that’s why she’s doing it,” Ian points out.

  “Do you want our help or not?” Killian glares down at him.

  Ian shrugs in answer.

  “Come on,” he changes his tone into a sing-songy voice. “You know you want us to fix all your problems.”

  “Alright, ye old wise one,” Ian sighs. “What is your great contribution to my life?”

  “Ask your sister if she’s cool if you bone her friend,” Killian says firmly.

  Ian sits up from where he’s been laying down and eyes me. “Is that the best you two got?”

  “I’m on Killian’s side on this one,” I finally offer up. “He’s got a point, if you’re worried about what your sister thinks then just ask her. If she says no, then cool. If she’s fine with it, then cool. Either way, you won’t know until you know.”

  “Are you freaking high?” Ian glares.

  “No.”

  “Then stop saying it’ll be cool. She’s three years younger!”

  “So?” Killian interrupts. “Big freaking deal. Maybe she’s one of those super smart girls who thinks she’s too good for you. I don’t know. Not every freshman is out of reach, you know.”

  “Out of reach?” I mock.

  Killian scowls. “You know what I mean. Like, if he wants to go out and get her, maybe she’s one of those cool freshmen w
ho don’t still act like a dipshit high schooler on a sugar high left alone on campus.”

  “Okay, I still agree with Killian, man.”

  “I hate both of you,” Ian grunts.

  “Because we’re right,” I smirk. “Pretty sure we both said we hated everyone when we started looking for advice.”

  “Is this some requirement for going after a girl?” Ian frowns. “Your friends give you shitty advice that you have to follow?”

  “You don’t have to follow it,” Killian points out. “You’ll just have better odds if you do. I mean look, it got me Lila, right? And now Alex has his head so far up his ass for Grace it’s a little creepy, but it works.”

  “Dude,” I scowl.

  “I’m just laying it out there like it is,” Killian smirks. “Plus, you know it’s true.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Ian sighs and stands up, rolling his shoulders like he’s itching for a fight. Maybe he is with the look he’s got on his face.

  It takes us about ten minutes to gather our things before walking out of the athletic building. Part of me wonders where Grace is, if she’s dancing, if she’s decided on what song she’s going to dance to at the scholarship dance off thing. Whatever it is. I know she’s going to nail it. Pride swells up in my chest.

  “So what’s up with you?” Ian asks me as we continue on down the sidewalk.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You and Grace,” Ian rolls his eyes. “Happy in paradise?”

  I lift one shoulder. “You could say that.” Hell yeah it’s paradise.

  “You’re not going to go on and on about how awesome it is like Killian?” Ian presses.

  “Lila is awesome, you asshole,” Killian says from behind us.

  “Am I supposed to brag about her?” I ask.

  “It would be weird if you didn’t,” Killian deadpans.

  “Incoming,” Ian mumbles under his breath.

  I’m about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, but a bunch of girls are suddenly crowding us on the sidewalk that leads to the Union. They’re blocking food. I don’t know why that’s my first thought, but it is.

  “What’s up?” Killian says, poking his head between Ian and me.