The Wrong Girl_Hanson University_Book Two

by McKenna Kerrick

  “Let’s clear out,” I grin. “My girl has a performance to put on!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Killian rolls his eyes, “we’re hurrying up. You’re so whipped.”

  “Like you weren’t this ecstatic with Lila’s art show last spring?” I scoff. “You practically demanded everyone show up and support her. And we literally took the whole team to an art show. I’m allowed to be whipped about my girl.”

  “Point taken,” Killian amends. He leans over me to look at Ian. “And bro, I’m sorry about lashing out.”

  “So am I,” Ian sighs. “It wasn’t personal, just took my frustration out on you.”

  “Well if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll make sure to bring Lila along so my inner asshole doesn’t come out,” Killian offers.

  “Thanks but no thanks,” Ian snorts.

  Killian raises his hands in surrender. “Just offering.”

  We make quick work of showering and then changing into our clothes. I packed a nice pair of jeans and one of my thermal shirts to wear to Grace’s performance. The guys are also wearing nicer outfits than what we normally put on, which is great. I don’t know how hoity-toity the dance performances are, but I’d rather be overdressed than underdressed for one.

  We throw on our jackets and make quick work of walking two buildings over to the Performing Arts Center. After showing our tickets and bypassing a bunch of people, I scope out where Grace’s grandparents are sitting. They’re in the middle section, down close to the stage so we shuffle our way towards them.

  “Alex!” Grace’s grandma beams when she sees me. “Lila and I have been waiting on everybody.”

  Killian skirts around us, making his way over towards where Lila is sitting on the other side of Grace’s petite grandmother.

  “This is Ian,” I introduce. “He’s one of our friends.”

  “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” her grandma beams.

  “Who would’ve thought our little girl would be friends with the football players,” her grandfather snorts before patting the seat next to him.

  We all get settled in before I look down at the stage, there’s no props or anything out. Nothing but a slick looking floor and a red curtain dangling off to the sides. A choir and small orchestra are setting up below us.

  “How was the game?” I ask her grandfather.

  He waves a hand at me. “It was amazing. You boys did wonderful. We came late so that way we wouldn’t be outside the whole time. Grace kept insisting that I was going to catch a cold and die if I tried to sit out there the whole game,” the old man rolls his eyes affectionately. “It’s easier to just give in with her.”

  “I agree,” I grin.

  “Did she tell you what song she was thinking of doing? She wouldn’t budge and tell us,” her grandmother leans around her husband to ask me.

  I shake my head. “She didn’t say anything to me. She hasn’t let me watch her practice for a few weeks. She says I’m distracting her,” I add in mock outrage.

  “Of course you are,” her grandfather snorts. “You’re her boyfriend. You’ll always be distracting. She’ll just get used to it eventually. But damn, I really want to know what she’s dancing to. I bet it’ll be amazing.”

  “I know what she’s dancing to,” Ian says next to me, smirking. “But I was sworn to secrecy. She wanted to know if it would be a good choice or not.”

  “Well what is it?” I demand. “You can’t just say that and then not tell us.”

  “I just told you I was sworn to secrecy,” Ian rolls his eyes. “I can’t break that just to appease you.” He leans around me towards her grandparents and adds on apologetically, “No offense. She just really wanted to do this her way and I told her I’d keep it to myself.”

  Her grandfather rolls his eyes. “She likes to be secretive about this kind of stuff. You’d think she was talking about nuclear launch codes and not which song was best to dance to.”

  “She’s passionate, you mean,” her grandmother interjects. “Let’s respect that.”

  “Obviously,” her grandfather mumbles.

  I snort and lean back in my chair.

  The orchestra starts in on a slow song with no lyrics as the dancers begin coming out. One by one they make their way through a song, but none of it really sticks out to me. This is probably how Grace feels when watching football. Bored and entertained all at the same time.

  And none of them use any lyrics.

  I guess Grace was right in saying that dancers want you to feel what they’re doing instead of hearing it. I still think it’s a load of crap, but obviously in this profession it’s not.

  Finally, though, I watch Grace walk out towards center stage in leggings and a tank top tucked into them. Her blond hair is in waves rolling down her shoulders, when all the other dancers were in tight buns.

  She’s going for original.

  And she’s nailing it.

  Her head tilts down and a piano begins to play.

  Chapter Thirty

  Grace

  The orchestra begins the melody to Like I Loved You by Brett Young. I figure if he’s been playing on a loop of my dance rehearsal CD since Alex showed up, I might as well stick with his music and see where it takes me.

  It’s a more upbeat start than the rest of the songs that they’ve played. I look out to my left, pretending that I’m staring off into the distance. And that’s when I begin.

  The upside to playing a more upbeat song, even if the lyrics the choir are singing are damaging to your heart, is that you can move faster without trying to hold a pose for too long. Something that I’ve always hated doing.

  So I walk, stretching out my legs in an exaggerated extension as I move, twisting my head as I stop and then move back like someone was struggling in front of me. I tumble backwards, landing on my back and arching myself up, kicking one foot in the air.

  I turn on my stomach, pushing forward and then curling in on myself. The choir picks up on the faster chorus and I lift myself up, letting the emotion that the lyrics have on me fill my face as I stand.

  Then, I continue on. Rolling into the motions that I taught my limbs to go into. A few jumps, a somersault, and leaps in the air, always tumbling back to the ground every time the line, you never loved me like I loved you, comes on. As if it’s a real consideration that takes the breath out of me, knocking me over each and every time.

  In a sense, my entire routine is fighting to stand up after everything that’s happened. After being torn down with a broken heart and trying to be able to heal it only to keep stumbling back down again. Then, at the end of the song, I’m able to withstand the blows, but arch my body as if there are people grabbing at me to pull me back down.

  The melody that began at the start of the song comes back on, and I exaggerate my walk once more as I make my way towards the center of the stage again. The orchestra quiets down, no longer playing anything and I spin around to face the crowd that’s shielded beyond the bright lights.

  I curtsey down, dropping my head and then lifting it back up.

  Applause breaks out, just as it did after every performer, but I like to think this is louder than before. That my dance spoke to the souls of the audience and the judges. I walk off stage, holding my head high in the air as I come down the side stairs and enter the backstage area.

  “Wow, bold choice,” one of them tells me.

  I smile with tight lips. “Thanks.”

  “What made you decide to use a current song with lyrics?” she presses.

  I stop to stare at her. She seems to genuinely want to know, not to tear me down for my song choice. Something that definitely wouldn’t have happened at Wilmington. “I was rehearsing and my boyfriend wanted to know why I wasn’t using lyrics to help show my story. He made a good argument for it so I thought I’d give it a whirl.”

  She laughs. “Mine doesn’t understand anything about dance. But I wish he would have given me advice. We all look the same, and then you basically changed everything,”
she grins.

  “It was nice meeting you,” I say as I step around her. “I’m going to change and head out to watch with the rest of my friends.”

  “Same,” she sighs. “I hope we get a shot at the scholarship, though. I’ll see you around.”

  I wave goodbye to the stranger and grab my bag from the back of the studio, rushing into the restroom to change into clothes that will actually keep me warm instead of the thin ones I’m currently wearing.

  Alex meets me outside the auditorium, grinning from ear to ear at me. “That was awesome.”

  “You think?” I smile. “Do you think the lyrics were too much? Maybe I shouldn’t have gone with them.”

  “No, no,” Alex shakes his head. “I mean, you were spot on every time the chorus would happen and you looked like some invisible people were pulling you down. The lyrics just made it seem, I don’t know, more real? Is that a thing?”

  “Sure,” I grin, because I can’t help it.

  “And that thing you did in the air? Jeez,” Alex says and flaps his arms out. I don’t know which move he’s talking about, but he’s so animated and happy that I fling myself into his arms.

  “Thank you for being here,” I mumble into his chest.

  “Like I was going to skip this,” he scoffs. “No way. And not cool in telling Ian your song choice and not the rest of us. Low blow, sweetheart.”

  “It wasn’t on purpose,” I snort. “I was excited and I had to tell someone and he was the first person I saw. Then I didn’t want to jinx it so I made him promise me he wouldn’t say anything.”

  “Well, he didn’t.”

  “Good,” I laugh. “Where are we sitting? I want to finish watching the performances.”

  “Down there,” he nods towards the middle set of doors. “When do you find out if you win?”

  “Over Christma break I think,” I shrug. “I don’t need the scholarship, but it would be nice to have. And winning something like this would open me up to companies interested.”

  “They’d be dumb to not pick you,” Alex says sternly. “It sounds like everyone else was doing the same damn thing. Killian and I actually started guessing when they were going to change. We both lost. I thought someone would do something original, but they didn’t.”

  I roll my eyes. “Everyone danced differently.”

  “No, sweetheart, you danced differently.” Alex tugs on my hand and leads me back to where my grandparents are sitting at with our friends.

  There’s another dancer on the stage, so we make sure to be quiet as we settle down into our seats. Everyone shoots me a thumbs up sign and I smile to everyone. It’s been almost four years since anyone has seen me dance. It’s nice to have a little gathering to silently cheer you on.

  After the performances are over, someone comes out to tell us that we’ll know in two weeks who won the winter semester scholarship. Once that concludes, we’re dismissed from the Performing Arts Center and thrust out into the snowy cold.

  “Let’s grab pizza,” Killian says as rubs at his stomach. “I’m starving.”

  “No!” Ian jabs a finger at him. “We’re not having pizza, okay? You’re swearing off pizza for right now.”

  Killian raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment.

  “Well then,” Grandpa says. “That was nice and you were magnificent, honey,” he bends down to kiss my cheek, “but it’s past our bedtime so we’re going to get out of your hair for tonight.”

  “But we’re having a celebration dinner tomorrow with you,” Grandma points her finger at me. “Don’t try and get out of it.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I promise her. “And I’ll bring Alex.”

  “Sounds good, then,” Grandma nods and pats Alex on the chest with her hand before she and Grandpa head towards the parking lot.

  “So, dinner?” Killian prompts before scowling at Ian. “And apparently not at the freaking pizza place.”

  “Union it is,” Lila sighs next to him. “Come on, we’ll get pizza another time. When we’re not with Ian, so that way we don’t make things awkward.”

  “I’m never awkward,” Killian scoffs but lets her lead him towards the Union.

  “That okay with you?” I ask Ian.

  “Yeah,” he grumbles and follows after Killian and Lila who are still bickering.

  Alex and I stay a little ways away from them, watching them all walk towards the Union in tandem. Alex throws his arm around my shoulders and tugs me until I’m tucked into his side.

  “Did you see the game footage?” Alex asks.

  “You mean during the game or after the game?” I ask.

  “After.”

  I try and not grin at him, but I know I’m failing. “Oh, you mean when you told the entire world that you loved me and that I was your girlfriend? Is that the game footage you’re asking about?”

  “Yeah,” Alex smirks down at me. “I was wondering if you saw it or not.”

  “We were in the parking lot, but they put it on the big screen on the scoreboard, so we all heard it. There were a few outcries, though. Some people got really offended by it.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Someone is always offended. Jesus, they need to get a life if stalking me is all they’re amounting up to.”

  I lean up and kiss him under his scruffy chin. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Does this mean you’re going to the Championship?”

  “It means we’re in a Bowl game and that if we win that we’ll go to the Championship,” Alex nods his head.

  “When is that?”

  “Usually over break.”

  “So that means your game will be when I find out about my scholarship,” I grin. “And since we’ll be on break, I can come watch your game.”

  Alex squints down at my face. “And here I thought you were going to forever hate football,” he laughs.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t hate football, I just hated being your second favorite.”

  “You were always my first favorite,” Alex mumbles and kisses the top of my head.

  “You’re my first favorite, too,” I grin.

  “What the hell are you two doing back there?” Killian’s voice hollers out. “You’re moving slower than molasses, hurry the hell up.”

  Alex and I chuckle as we pick up our pace to catch up to where the others are standing around at.

  We all move as one large group into the Union’s cafeteria, basically taking over every available piece of seating leftover from the football crowd. There’s so many people in here, including parents, that it’ll be amazing if we don’t run out of food.

  A bunch of people wander over to our table, mostly guys, to congratulate them on their win tonight. A few girls come by, but they all get sent away. Who knew that the two resident playboys would cause an outcry in the female population?

  “Ian,” someone asks from down the table, “have a question for ya.”

  “Shoot,” is Ian’s reply as we settle into our seats.

  “How did it feel to gain the yards for four touchdowns?”

  “Like fucking heaven,” Ian grins and tilts his chin up before looking over at the rest of us. “What?”

  “Nothing, it’s almost like you like being a celebrity,” Lila mock gasps.

  “Shut up,” Ian laughs. “I’m in a good mood, alright? I’m happy.” He glances over at me. “That was some awesome dance skills you did, Grace.”

  “Thank you,” I smile. I heard the deflection, but no one calls him out on it.

  “Do you think you’ll get it?” Lila asks me.

  “The scholarship?” I ponder. “I don’t know. I hope so. Some girl backstage said I stood out since I wasn’t dressed like the rest of them or doing what everyone else was doing. But she was nice about it.”

  “That’s good,” Alex says next to me. “And I told you that it was good to be different. Lyrics don’t have to be a bad thing.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” I roll my eyes. “I listened t
o you didn’t I?”

  “Amazingly enough,” Alex snorts.

  “You two are so nauseatingly adorable,” Ian sighs from across the table.

  “You’re just jealous,” Alex quips. “Someday you’re going to have someone mouth off back to you and then you’ll be singing a different tune.”

  Ian laughs at that. “Sure I will.”

  “See?” Alex points at him. “Mark my words.”

  Ian laughs harder, but I notice Alex’s shoulders relax.

  “Boys are ridiculous,” I tell Lila.

  “And yet we love them,” she remarks.

  Yeah, yeah we do. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Two weeks later…

  “Nope,” I hold out the envelope towards Alex, “I can’t do it. You do it.”

  Alex rolls his eyes at me. “Sweetheart, that’s the fifth time you’ve said that and you still won’t give me the damn envelope. Just open it already and see if you got the damn scholarship or not.”

  “But I’m nervous,” I huff.

  “That’s why you keep telling me to open it, but you won’t give it to me.”

  Grandpa snorts from his recliner across the room at us. He’s been listening to us go back and forth for the past thirty minutes on who was going to open the envelope. I know I said that it didn’t matter if I got the scholarship or not, it wasn’t like I needed it, but I definitely wanted it.

  “Fine,” I huff. I tear open the envelope and stare at the words written in small black ink.

  “Well?” Alex prompts. “You can’t just tear it open and not read it out loud.”

  “I got it.” I look up at him and then launch myself into his arms. “I got the scholarship!”

  “That’s great, honey,” Grandpa grins over at me. “I knew you would get it!”

  “So did I,” Alex boasts proudly. “And I’m going to the Championship. I’m telling you Grace, this is our year.” He kisses the top of my head and I nuzzle into his chest.

  Yeah, this is definitely our year.

  The End