by Amy Sparling
I’ve been asked for my Snap more times than I can count, and I’m always met by this disappointed pout when I tell them I don’t have one. The truth is that I do have a Snapchat account, but I only use it to talk to my little cousins who are obsessed with the app. I’m not a big fan of social media. I think it brings more drama than happiness to people’s lives, yet everyone is obsessed with it.
That’s another thing I like about Asha. She’s hardly ever on her phone. I’ve only seen her check it a couple times in class, and it’ll just be for a second, like she’s checking the time or something. All the other girls in this school are practically glued to their phones. They spend more time communicating through social media than they do in real life. That’s just weird. I like talking to people, not devices.
We’re in English class when this girl named Gina starts talking to me. There aren’t assigned seats in this class, so I’ve managed to slowly sit closer to Asha each day. Today I’m to the left of her, and Gina is sitting in front of me. A few days ago, I sat behind her and told her good morning and she just rolled her eyes and ignored me. I don’t know what I should do to get her attention and to make her see that I’m not the jerk she thinks I am.
This Gina girl has asked me for my Snap before, and she’s always finding little reasons to talk to me. I get it. She likes me. But I wish girls would just come out and say it instead of beating around the bush about it. But then again, maybe not. Gina is cute and all, but she’s a junior and I’d feel weird dating an older girl. Plus she’s not Asha. Plus, she tries way too hard.
She turns around and places both of her hands on my desk. “I forgot my red pen,” she says, dipping her lips into a frown. “Do you have one I can borrow?”
Mr. Emerson makes us grade our own quizzes each week by switching papers with someone and using red pen. He’s very strict about the red pen thing, which is why I found one in my house and bring it with me every day. I hold it up. “I only have the one, but we can share.”
Gina puts her hand on top of mine. “You’re the best.”
In the corner of my vision, I see Asha glance our way, and I seize the opportunity to get her attention. “You think so?” I tell Gina in a flirty voice. “Some people seem to think I’m a jerk.”
Gina’s eyes widen like it’s the craziest thing she’s ever heard. “No way. You’re totally sweet.” She smiles sweetly, her hand still on top of mine. “Your only flaw is that you don’t have Snapchat so we can’t talk at school.”
I lean forward a bit. “We’re talking right now.”
She gushes. Absolutely gushes. “Yeah, but … we could talk more if you got Snap.”
I glance over at Asha, hoping she looks jealous of this little exchange. But she’s not even looking at us anymore. Dammit.
***
I’m sitting at home playing Xbox and wondering what the hell I could do to make Asha like me, when my brother calls. Jax is a freshman in college, and he’s currently living in the dorms at Texas A&M, having the time of his life. Sometimes I can’t wait to graduate high school, but then he’ll tell me about his course load and I wonder if I’m really all that ready for college. After I listen to him bitch about his chemistry class, he asks what’s going on with me. I heave a sigh, wondering if I should tell my brother this embarrassing ordeal or just keep it to myself. He’s always been my best friend, and he’s my brother so I know I can trust him not to ridicule me.
Plus I could use some advice…
I go ahead and tell him about Asha, and my ridiculous crush on the girl. I leave out exactly how gorgeous she is, because if I start talking about that, I could go on forever. But I tell him the gist of it.
“So what’s the issue?” Jax says. “You like the girl, so ask her out.”
“I technically already did ask her out.”
“What’d she say?”
I sigh. “She said she’d rather fail her class than go on a date with me.”
“What the hell does failing a class have to do with anything?” he asks.
“Well… she seems to think she’s going to fail dance class because I refuse to dance.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Yeah, I don’t either.” I lay back on my bed and run a hand through my hair. “She’s the class Officer and thinks it’s like her responsibility, or whatever.”
“Oh damn,” Jax says. “That’s actually a big deal. There’s only like one Officer per class, and they have to demonstrate leadership and stuff. I remember that from when I was dating Jacie in high school. Her grade does depend on the other people in the class, bro.”
“Seriously? That’s so stupid!”
“Yeah, it is, but if she made Officer, she’s probably very serious about getting into college and stuff.”
“So you’re saying the whole reason I can’t get the girl of my dreams to date me is because of a stupid dance class?”
“No, I’m saying you can’t get the girl of your dreams to date you because you’re stupid.”
I groan. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Uh, dance?” he says with a snort. “It’s literally in the name of the class. I don’t know why you’re so dumb.”
“Dude, I’m not dancing,” I say. “It’s a class of all girls, and I have like, no dance skill whatsoever.”
“She’s not graded on your God-given dance talent,” Jax says. “She’s graded on how well her students listen to her. If you want her to like you, you need to dance.”
I shake my head furiously. Just the thought of doing those silly dance moves brings heat to my cheeks. No way. Not happening. “Maybe there’s another option,” I say, thinking out loud. “I’ve got their dances memorized by now because I’ve seen it so much. I even know the names of the dance moves. Maybe I can offer to do like an essay or something. Or recite the dance moves in order to prove I know the choreography instead of dancing to it.”
My brother laughs. “That’s creative. It might work.”
The more I think about this idea, the better it is. I mean they have to have some kind of alternative way to get a good grade in that class. What if one of the girls fell and broke a leg or something and couldn’t dance for the rest of the semester? They wouldn’t fail her… they’d give her another way to earn credit.
Maybe this will work. Maybe my new idea will make Asha happy because she won’t be in danger of failing anymore. I go to bed with this idea on my mind. If it works out, then I also won’t be in danger of failing the class. I’ve never actually failed anything before and I know my parents would be pissed if I did, even if it was a stupid dance elective. So this idea might work out for everyone.
And then maybe, finally, Asha will go on a date with me.
Chapter 7
Asha
I stare at Liam, trying not to get lost in his golden eyes. This is not the time to be thinking about how crazy cute he is. I’m not sure there’s ever a time for that. He’s giving me this pleading look, like maybe he really cares about something for once in his life. It’s lunchtime, and we’re standing near the pizza line, and he just told me the craziest idea.
He thinks he can write an essay and recite the dance moves as an alternative to dancing so that he’ll pass the class and I’ll get credit as Officer. It’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, but I guess it’s nice that he’s trying. It’s better than him sitting on the floor listening to music during class.
I bite my lip, not knowing what to say. He’s still watching me, waiting for my reply. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Johnson about it,” I say. “I’ve never heard of anything like this so I don’t know if it’ll work.”
“It has to work,” he says. “There has to be an alternative assignment for students who get injured and can’t dance or something, right?”
I lift an eyebrow skeptically. “Not really. When people get hurt, they usually just sit out until they’re better and can dance again. Besides,” I say, giving him a pointed look. “You are not hurt. You’re perfectly fine.”
He shrugs. “I’m dance-challenged. My body doesn’t dance.”
I roll my eyes. “Your body is fine.”
“Why thank you.” He gives me cocky grin and I immediately realize what I just said.
“That’s not what I meant!” My voice is way too high, and I can feel my cheeks reddening. And now that I just said it, I can’t stop looking at his chest, his muscular arms… his tall build. Oh gosh. Cool it down, Asha.
“Please, Asha.” Liam’s words make my breath catch in my throat. There’s a seriousness behind his eyes, and he’s watching me with real sincerity. He means it. He hopes this crazy idea of his will work.
I swallow. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Johnson.”
He gives me the most adorable smile ever. “Thanks.”
***
During homeroom, I get a hall pass and make my way down to the dance room to talk to Mrs. Johnson. I’m feeling pretty confident about this plan that Liam devised. I’ll explain that he’s a guy and there’s never been a guy in dance class and we should just make him do several essays or worksheets or something to make up for it. This will be totally fine.
Mrs. Johnson gives me a smile when she sees me. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says, setting down her coffee. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
“Oh really?” I say, taking a seat in the worn out chair next to her desk. “What’s up?”
Her face falls a little. I know she likes me, but right now it’s like she’s about to talk to a bad student instead. “The homecoming pep rally dance is in five days.”
I nod, because obviously I knew this. “My choreography is done and I’ll be teaching it to the class starting today.”
“Honey, you know that this dance is your first major exam grade, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. A shudder of apprehension rolls through me. Why is she saying it like that?
“If you don’t have one hundred percent participation, the highest grade you can get is a 70. And that’s only if your dance is stellar.”
I look down at my hands as my heart fills with dread. “You’re talking about Liam?”
She nods. “You got him to change clothes but he hasn’t participated at all, and I’ve been watching you. You don’t push him.”
“There’s not much I can do,” I say defensively. She’s acting like I haven’t tried at all. “I’ve told him it’s important and he still won’t dance. But he actually has a good idea that I came here to ask you about.”
She listens while I detail my conversation with Liam from earlier. I think I’m doing a pretty good job of proving how he can do written work to prove he’s learned dance vocabulary and all, but she presses her lips together.
“That’s clever, but I’m sorry, Asha. He has to dance or it doesn’t count. The only way he’d be able to do something alternative is if he has a doctor’s note excusing him from dance.”
It briefly crosses my mind to shove Liam off a staircase and hope he breaks a leg on the way down, but I quickly shove the thought away. Obviously I’m not a psychopath. “Are you sure there’s nothing else he can do?”
“This is dance class,” she says firmly. “All he has to do is dance.”
I’m trying not to cry as I make my way back to homeroom. My dance for the pep rally is really cute and easy to learn since it’s the first dance of the year. I even have a separate part I made for Liam that would have him doing a more manly part instead of dancing with the rest of the girls. He’d be like their escort, taking them one by one onto the dance floor. It would look pretty awesome if he actually did it, but I know he won’t. Still, I choreographed him a part in the dance so that it would look good on my part, and hopefully improve my grade.
Now I know that won’t happen.
Liam has to dance at the pep rally or I’m screwed.
I bite the inside of my lip as an idea comes to me. It’s crazy, and it probably won’t work. But if it does… it would be perfect.
Now all I have to do is win him over.
Chapter 8
Liam
I’m heading to fifth period when I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. Inwardly, I groan. It’s probably one of the several girls who have been not-so-subtly flirting with me this week. I’m never rude to people, especially girls, but it’s hard to politely act like I’m not interested. I just want them to go away because I’m in no position to date anyone right now. Not when my heart is set on another girl.
I put on a fake smile and turn around. Asha’s beautiful eyes are not only looking into mine, but they’re crinkled at the corners. She’s smiling at me. I want to pinch myself, because I have to be dreaming.
Asha doesn’t smile at me. At best, she ignores me, but at worst, she glares at me across the dance room because I’m not dancing.
“What’s up?” I say, trying not to sound surprised that she’s here, initiating contact with me, and that she’s smiling, which is crazy out of character for her.
She hooks her thumbs under her backpack straps and glances at the floor before looking back at me. “I’ll go on that date now.”
Everything suddenly fades into nothingness as I watch her. The sounds of lockers slamming, people talking—it’s all gone. The only thing that exists right now is this gorgeous, ambitious girl, and me.
“Really?” I say.
She nods quickly. “Yeah. I mean…if you were serious about it…”
I can tell she’s suddenly self-conscious so I jump in before she worries any longer. “Yes! I was totally serious.”
She smiles up at me, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her face. “Cool. I’m… looking forward to it.”
Her grin melts me. I’m totally out of control when she looks at me like that. She could ask me to walk right off the edge of the Grand Canyon and I’d do it, so long as she was giving me that smile.
I swallow. “So where are we going?”
She lifts an eyebrow, and I give her a teasing grin. “Well, you technically just asked me out, you see. So the date is up to you now.”
Her mouth falls open and she slaps me on the arm. “So not fair!”
I chuckle. “I’m playing with you. I’ll plan the date.”
“Good,” she says. “Because I have no idea how to do that.”
I take out my phone and unlock it with my thumbprint, then hand it over. “Can I get your number?”
She punches it in, then gives my phone back just as the two-minute warning bell rings. “See you in eighth period,” I say, tucking my phone back in my pocket.
She just grins as she walks away. There’s a pep in her step that she didn’t have before, and it leaves me wondering if she’s got some kind of evil plan up her sleeve.
I certainly hope not.
***
During dance, Asha leads the girls in the warmup and then the day’s lesson without ever looking at me. I guess I didn’t expect her to, since she always ignores me in class, but I kind of hoped she would at least talk to me. We are officially going on a date, so that makes us something other than enemies now.
I don’t know why she changed her mind, especially since she seemed so annoyed that I asked her out in the first place, but I’ll take it. This girl has been stuck in my brain all day, every day, since I first met her at that sign up table on the first day of class. I love that she’s confident and passionate, and that she works so hard for the things she cares about. She’s hands down the best student in English class, and in dance, she’s more of a teacher than our real teacher. I’ve only ever dated wishy-washy girls who don’t care about anything but the latest Kardashian scandal. I don’t want to date girls like that anymore.
I want to date Asha.
After dinner, I can’t stand the wait any longer. I need to talk to her. I need to confirm that what happened earlier wasn’t just my mind playing jokes on me, and that she really does want to go on a date with me.
I find her number, which she saved in my phone as DANCE IS THE BEST, and chuckle. This girl is s
omething else. I press call.
After four terrifyingly long rings where I worry she won’t answer, she finally does. “Hello?” she says tentatively.
“Hello, I’m calling for Miss Dance is the Best. Have I reached the right number?”
She laughs. “Yes, that’s me.”
I lay back on my bed, reveling in how sweet her voice sounds on the phone. I want to ask about our date, but I don’t want to sound too eager about it, either. “What’s up?”
She takes a second to reply. “You called me.”
“Uh… yes?”
She chuckles. “It’s just weird. Like, guys don’t usually call. I thought you’d text.”
“Would you rather me text?” I ask.
“No,” she says quickly. “Calls are nice. They’re like…retro.”
“I don’t use social media,” I explain. “And I’d way rather hear your voice than read a text.”
Again, she’s quiet. I wonder if she’s blushing. “So when’s our date?” she asks after a beat.
“Friday?” I suggest, hating that the weekend is still five days away.
“What about tomorrow?” she says. “I’ll probably be grounded by Friday.”
“What? But you’re so sweet,” I say, only halfway joking. “Why on earth would you get grounded?”
She sighs. “I’m probably going to fail a major test on Friday… my parents will be pissed.”
“Well that’s no good,” I say.
“Don’t worry, I have a plan.” Her voice is a little conspiratorial, and I can’t lie—it turns me on. I clear my throat and try to change the subject.
“So a Tuesday night date, huh? I can work with that. How late can you stay out?”
“Probably until eleven-ish. My parents aren’t too strict.”
“Awesome,” I say, even though I’m a little nervous. Less than twenty four hours to plan the greatest date she’s ever had will be kind of tricky. But I have to pull it off because I need this girl to want me as much as I want her. “Next question: How early can you go out with me?”
