Love Is in the Air (13 page)

“So what do you do when you're not here?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, when you're just normal girl Jennifer and not circus star Jennifer. Do you play sports? Head the chess team? Solve local crime?”

I giggle in spite of myself, trying to pull my thoughts up from the deep. He's grinning at me. The smile's stupidly infectious.

“Something like that. Why?”

“I'm just trying to get to know you,” he says. He nudges me. “After all, this camp isn't going to last forever. I'm trying to see if we'll still be in touch when it's done.”

I glance over at him. Does that mean what I think it means?

“Well,” I begin, looking back to my plate, “I'm in band. I'm not that good, but I just started, so I suppose that's okay. Mostly, I just do homework and game with my friends.” I chuckle. “Totally cool, right?”

“Totally,” he says. “I mean, what else are you supposed to be doing with your time? This is suburbia. It's not like you're gonna be driving around in a limo every day. Unless you have a limo. Then you should totally be driving around in it. Do you have a limo?”

I laugh.

“No limo, sorry.”

“That's okay. You'd probably be a snob then, and I don't usually like snobs.”

My treacherous heart does a little dance. Did he just say he likes me?
And if that's true, why the heck did you date Megan!?
Or
was that just a lie? I wouldn't put it past her, but I hate how easily she's snaked into my brain. I want to trust Branden, really. But after what Josh did, it's hard. Much easier to keep it light and simple and pretend we're just friends.

“What about you?” I ask. “What do you do when you're not defying death?”

“Well, when you put it like that . . . I dunno, I'm an average guy. I'm on the swim team, play video games with friends, try to finish my homework last minute. Besides the trapeze stuff, I'm not very exciting.”

“Sounds pretty cool to me.”

“Pretty cool. Great, she thinks I'm
pretty
cool.”

I nudge him and giggle.

“You know what I mean,” I say.

“Hah, yeah. And you're pretty cool too.”

I bite my lip. Suddenly he feels really close. Like, if this was a movie, this is where he'd push aside our dinner trays and lean over and kiss me. And suddenly that's all I can think about—him leaning over to kiss me. It's like everyone else in the cafeteria has disappeared and it's just him and me. So much for thinking of us just being friends; right now, I want us to be something
more
. Then something crashes and a bunch of kids laugh, and the moment is over before it even really began. He clears his throat and leans back—I hadn't even noticed he was leaning toward me;
was
he really about to kiss me?

“Anyway,” he says, looking at his wrist—where he conveniently
is missing a watch. “I better get going. Gotta call my parents before practice. And change. Apparently we're wearing short shorts. So that's exciting. Remind me never to let Tyler plan costumes again. He and Riley together are a powerhouse of embarrassingly bad ideas.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. “I'm just hoping it all pulls together by tonight.”

Branden smiles. “I'm sure it will. If nothing else, your singing will blow them all away.”

Then he stands and walks away, leaving me to sit there and wonder if that really was my first time honestly flirting with a boy.

Well, with a boy who flirted back.

Chapter
Fifteen

I
don't stick around too
long after Branden leaves. After heading back to my room to send my parents a quick update text, I leave and go straight to the practice area—just a small patch of grass behind the school where I'm pretty certain the college smokers go, given all the ­cigarette butts on the ground. I'm met there by Riley, who's doing her usual juggling by herself. This time she's not actually juggling, though apparently it's still considered “object manipulation.” She's playing with a diabolo, which is basically a spinning top she wraps and tosses from a string held between two sticks.

“Hey, slacker!” she calls when she sees me. She flings the diabolo high in the air, spins twice, and catches it on the string right before it hits the ground. “Wanna try?”

“That looks way too complicated,” I say. “Besides, I'm trying
to keep my focus on not choking or losing my voice.”

“Yeah, that would bite,” she says. She sets the diabolo down, carefully folding the string around the sticks. “Can that even happen?”

“No clue. But I don't want to find out.”

“What I
do
want to find out is how the boys look,” she says with a grin. “I had a feeling they'd all have short shorts, what with them being athletes and all.”

I shake my head. As much as I can't believe I'm about to say it, I can't actually get excited over the thought of Branden as a backup dancer; I'm too worried about making a fool of myself in front of the entire troupe. Again. I'm pretty certain it's impossible to lose your voice in less than an hour, but it would be just my luck.

Thankfully, I'm not given much time to worry; the boys all arrive at the same time, chatting with one another as they make their way across the lawn. They're each in lime-green T-shirts and bright-white shorts and sunglasses. I'm pleased to see that Branden's even wearing the brown vest from the costume ­challenge—must mean he owns it, which is cool. He has a good fashion sense.

“How the heck did you guys have all that?” I ask. “I mean, you match pretty perfectly.”

Tyler shrugs. “Never question a circus boy's wardrobe. We gotta come prepared for anything.”

“That and we talked to our RA about pulling from the costume shop,” Branden says.

Tyler slugs him on the shoulder. “Stop giving away our trade secrets!”

“Break it up, ladies,” Riley says with a laugh. “We've got work to do. Tyler, are you ready with the moves?”

Tyler nods, suddenly completely serious. Kevin smirks beside him—clearly, Tyler's the only one who's really getting into this. I wish I had half his enthusiasm. Or Riley's.

“Okay!” she says, a huge grin on her face. “Tyler, I'm leaving you in charge. I've got the music whenever you want it. And Jennifer?” she asks, turning to me.

“Yeah?”

“Try to keep up. This boy's choreo is killer.”

•  •  •

Practice goes way too fast.

Not that that keeps me from feeling completely overwhelmed in the little time we have. I'm sweating after only a few minutes of trying to follow Tyler's complex dance moves, once more wishing I'd done
something
to prepare myself for all this. Why hadn't I taken dance classes like my mom insisted? Or gymnastics? Or even track?

It's quickly decided that I'll stay in front and do only a minimal amount of moving—and always at well-cued points in the music, so there's no chance of me messing up. Well, less of a chance of me messing up.

On the plus side, even though my moves are shaky, the boys more than make up for it. Tyler's a natural teacher, and both
Branden and Kevin are apt pupils. That said, they're all sweating by the time Tyler's done running them through the routine a half-dozen times. At least I'm not the only one who looks like I got rained on.

Riley is playing the director, since she wanted to focus solely on her juggling routine, which apparently consists of hula hooping while juggling fake knives. Seeing as she's flinging blades—dull or not—by her face, I don't pressure her into joining us. I'd rather not have to show her where the ER is in this town. It's kind of a trek.

“Great job, guys,” she says. “This is going to be amazing! Tyler, you're half a count ahead during the last thirty seconds. And Branden, if you could maybe try to smile so it doesn't look like you're dying onstage, that would be awesome too.”

“What about Kevin?” Tyler asks, sticking his tongue out at him.

“Kevin's perfect just the way he is,” Riley says.

“Told you so,” Kevin says.

Tyler rolls his eyes, but he's cut short by Kevin leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“D'aww, you're too cute,” Riley says.

Tyler responds by pulling Kevin into a dip and kissing him full on.

“Okay, okay!” Riley yells, giggling. “Get a room, you two.”

It's adorable, but at that moment I look over to Branden. His eyes flick to catch mine, and something makes butterflies explode in my chest. Eventually, he looks away. I'm pretty certain his already flushed face goes a little redder.

This is exactly how I felt at the dinner table, only much stronger. And suddenly all I can think of is how perfect it would be if tonight, right after we were amazing onstage, he could sweep me into a kiss. He must feel it too. There's an electricity running between us, even though we're not making eye contact. A pull. Like magnets, I feel the desire to inch toward him. I mentally cross my fingers and hope that tonight's the night I get my first kiss. Spotlights and all.

Screw Josh and those mental games. Tonight's the night I get over him and move on to being with better guys.

“Earth to Jenn,” Riley says, nudging me on the shoulder. “You still in there?”

I shake my head. Crap. I was staring right at Branden. Thankfully, he was too busy practicing a turn with Kevin and Tyler to notice. I hope.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Come on,” she says, following my gaze. “Let's go get you changed. It's your big night, after all.” Then she winks, and I have a funny feeling she knows exactly what I was daydreaming about.

That just makes me blush harder.

Chapter
Sixteen

T
here's really nothing more nerve-racking
than being in a talent show. Let me rephrase that: There's nothing more nerve-racking than being in a talent show and going
last
.

For some reason, Riley opted for us to take the final slot in the roster, which I think is a terrible idea but she seems to believe means we'll make a lasting impression.

“Come on,” she coerces backstage, “this way you'll be the last thing everyone's thinking about.”

I shrug. “It doesn't really matter, does it?” I whisper. “I mean, if this was just to impress Branden, we've won—he's already in the group!”

She shrugs her shoulders and tosses a knife in the air, catching it without even looking. Her solo act was a few routines ago; she
pulled it off without dropping a single knife or hula hoop.

“Dream bigger, Jenn. This isn't just about impressing Branden. This is about impressing
everyone
here, including Megan. Once she sees you two onstage together, she'll get the hint. Then it will be nothing but loving looks and kissy-poo time with Branden for the rest of camp.”

I actually snort with laughter. “Did you just say ‘kissy-poo'?”

She grins. “You'll be coming back next year,” she says, like there's no question at all, “and this will show everyone else who returns that you're multitalented. Coaches
love
that sort of thing. Who knows, they might even have you sing for next year's show.”

The thought of that much pressure makes me want to throw up, so I focus instead on Branden, who's on the other side of the backstage wing. We're on in two acts, and he's peering at the group onstage—a clown troupe, naturally, doing some skit with a squirting umbrella—with almost as much nervousness on his face as me. Seeing him brings back all the butterflies from before, but this is a nausea I'm okay with. I can deal. Tyler and Kevin are nowhere to be seen.

We applaud when the clowns are done; they're all soaking wet, and their bows get the front row of the audience even wetter. I'm really grateful we're back here and not out there. Riley dressed me up in a sequined gold top that reaches my thigh, and tiny black shorts you can barely see past the hem. That, paired with some gold flats and a half-dozen bangles—not to mention all the makeup she splashed on me—and I feel like a rock star. Let's hope I actually
look like one and not just like one of those clowns out there.