6

"Dance for me," he said.

Scarlett giggled, but the laughter become soft and tapered off as she took in his facial expression.

"I can't dance," she said. "I'm... terrible. I have all the style and grace of a greased up, three-legged warthog on an ice-rink."

Maybe it was the vivid mental image that made him snort with laughter. He looked her up and down with suspicious eyes.

"Adrian said you are a cheerleader," he sternly pointed out.

"Oh God," Scarlett covered her head with her palm. "Only because Sienna forced me. Little Miss Gymnastic gold champion has to take every opportunity to show off her limber frame. Meanwhile, you have me in the background, tripping over my own feet like a hopeless lummox. You’d think I’d have some sort of natural grace!"

He burst into laughter again.

"Show me a routine," he demanded, staring up at the ceiling.

When Scarlett dropped her shoulders in defeat, about to begin the silly cheer, Riley sat up on the bed and waved his arms.

"Woah, woah, woah, sweet child of mine," he protested. "Back it up a second. I need to see you in the outfit to get the full effect."

"Really?" she asked, feeling her cheeks turning pink.

"Go on, off you hop," he demanded, waving her away.

She grabbed her uniform from her P.E. kit and walked to the bathroom, wondering why she was blindly obeying this guy she'd only just met. Was it because he was so attractive? Did she want to show off her legs to impress him? Could it be his intoxicating scent making him so hard to resist? Scarlett might know if she’d spend more time around her own kind. Blending in as a human didn’t leave much room for meeting eligible mates.

'If I want him to like me, I should maybe play a little harder to get,' she realised. Still, she pulled off her regular clothes and slipped into the tiny uniform, consisting of a tight blue and yellow jumper and a navy rara skirt that was barely long enough to conceal her backside. They were supposed to wear shorts underneath, but none of the girls ever did.

She held down the skirt as she re-entered her bedroom, covering her legs.

His eyes widened as he wolf-whistled, making her blush harder than she already was. As his eyes scanned her body, she felt under scrutiny, examined like some small creature under a microscope.

"Do I have to?" she whined, shifting on the spot. Her lack of confidence in her abilities wasn't merely posturing—she was genuinely a horrible dancer. No coordination, no rhythm, no grace.

"Aww," he cooed, giving her a pitying look. "But you're all dressed up now."

Scarlett looked down at her outfit, the short skirt that revealed too much of her legs and felt shy. She had performed like this in front of her entire school, silly routine and all, yet this seemed scarier. Maybe it was the intimacy of the situation.

As he leaned forward her brain went into overdrive. She imagined him placing his hands around her hips, picking her up and placing her in his lap. The fantasy made her heart thud in her chest and her face flush. With any luck, he would read this as embarrassment over arousal.

"Dance, dance, dance," he started to chant.

Instead of spurring her on, it made her anxiety worse.

"Please don't make me," she asked and pushed out her bottom lip. It occurred to her that she could just flat out refuse. That she could walk out and ignore him for the rest of the night if he made her uncomfortable.

'But I want him to like me,' she thought.

"Do it," he said. Something about his tone spurred her to action.

'What do I have to lose?' she questioned as she began the routine she'd practised a million times with Sienna and the other girls. Doing it alone felt different because his eyes were on her alone. Most of the time the focus of attention would be on Sienna. Her body, her long blonde hair and her movement—like poetry in motion, were enough to ensure Scarlett was in the background.

Strands of hair flipped across her face as she enacted the over-the-top moves, waving her pompoms and calling out the cheer with less projection than she would use in the field.

When she finally fell still and let her arms drop to her side she was scared to look up and take in his facial expression.

He whooped and cheered, making her laugh in relief as she turned to the door, planning to get changed.

"Oh, no you don’t," he said. "Keep it on."

Hand on the round metal doorknob, she turned back to face him, half-frowning, half-grinning.

"It's pretty short," she said.

"Yeah, exactly," he said with a perverted grin.

Reluctantly, she took a seat beside him, aware of the way his eyes lingered around the hem of her skirt. The pair made conversation that mostly consisted of them swapping stories. She told him more about her friends, telling him about the parties they had held while Riley shared stories about stuff he and Adrian had gotten up to.

She felt like they had only been talking for a few minutes when Adrian knocked at the door and walked in without waiting for a response.

"How did it go?" Scarlett asked.

"Horrid." Adrian smiled. "I was awful. A condescending doucebag."

His smile faltered as he looked her up and down.

"Nu-uh," he shook his head at Riley. "I did not give permission for this."

"Oh no," Riley cried, throwing up his arms in surrender. "I would never, man. I swear."

'Permission?' Scarlett thought, feeling the fire of rage fill her chest. She had to take a deep breath and calm herself, reminding herself of the huge favour he had just done for her.

"I'm really grateful, Adrian," she said. "Thank you so freaking much."

"Yeah, whatever," he grunted with a sigh. "Come on, Riley, I have some stuff to show you. I got the Gierland Axe Quest."

Scarlett had no idea what he was talking about, but Riley seemed excited about it as he followed her stepbrother, not bothering to say goodbye.

Since it was clear she wasn't invited, Scarlett shut her door and sat back on her head, head spinning.

She couldn't get that word out of her head.

'Permission.'