Billionaires Don’t Fall For Awkward Girls by Emma Dalton

Chapter Twenty-One

It sucks to clean on an empty stomach, but expenses don’t care about someone’s personal problems. If not for the snacks I’ve been eating all day, I would have fainted long ago.

Many of the kids who qualified for the final round of the competition are having private lessons at the studio. I try not to let it bother me that I don’t have as much time to dedicate as they do. I’m busting my butt after work and in my room, but I don’t know. I keep telling myself to be confident. That’s the only way I can get through this.

As I sweep the floor, a kid runs into the room, followed by a teen guy. Bailey and Easton. She giggles as he catches up to her and dips her. “That’s how a real prince and princess dance.”

Brayden runs into the room, trying to catch his breath.

“Feeling the burn, quarterback?” Easton teases.

Brayden gulps in some oxygen. “How do you have so much energy?”

Easton shrugs. “I work out every morning. Personal trainer.”

Brayden rolls his eyes. “I work out too.”

Easton glances around the room, and just as his eyes are about to land on me, I dive out the back door and into the hallway. I have no idea why I did that. No, that’s a lie. I don’t want him to know I clean here. Don’t want him to know how poor I am. Silly, I know.

“Where are you going, Prince Easton?” Bailey calls.

“I thought I heard something…”

My eyes widening, I leap off the floor and roll into the room next door. Which happens to be the cleaning supply closet. I have way too much speed and crash into the cleaning supplies, causing everything to fall all over me.

“Ouch,” I moan.

“Wood?”

I turn my head and find Easton standing in the doorway, looking at me tangled in all the cleaning supplies.

“What are you doing down there?” he asks.

“Oh…um…just hanging out.”

He lifts a brow. “In the janitor’s closet?”

With a lame laugh, I scramble off the floor, but then I slip on the mess those cleaning supplies made and once again crash to the floor.

“Ow.”

Easton steps forward and holds out his hand. I glance at it like I’ve never seen a hand before in my life. Touch my sworn enemy? Isn’t that a big no-no in the avoid-your-enemy manual?

“Wood, it’s just a hand. It’s not diseased.”

“I know,” I force out. Sighing internally, I grab his hand and let him pull me up. I don’t expect him to be so strong and find myself practically leaping in the air and smashing into his chest.

I quickly push away and mutter, “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s my bad. I miscalculated your weight.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?”

His eyes grow wide. “No. Why would you assume I thought that?”

“Um…no reason.”

We both stand there looking at each other. The only sounds are coming from Brayden and Bailey, who are pretending to be a prince and princess at a ball.

Easton sniffs. “It smells like bleach.”

My eyes snap wide as I sniff my arm. “Great.”

He lifts a brow. “Are you trying to avoid me?”

My face as red as the ripest tomato, I stammer, “N-no. W-why would I do that?”

“Because I saw you roll out of the studio like a ninja. Actually, no, a ninja would be more discreet.”

“Blame my awkward body,” I mutter.

“And you hid in the janitor’s closet?” he asks with creased brows.

I straighten up. “I didn’t hide in the janitor’s closet.”

Easton slips his hands into his pockets as he studies me. “Then what are you doing here?”

I fold my arms over my chest as I yank my gaze away from his. “Some people need to earn a living.”

His eyebrows crease even more. “You work at the studio?”

“So? I clean the studio in exchange for dance lessons. It’s not a crime. My parents and I are hardworking people. We might not have the most glamorous jobs—cleaning toilets suck, sure, but someone’s gotta do it. People might turn up their noses, but they want clean toilets, don’t they? In fact, they should kiss the ground we walk on for scrubbing their stupid toilets. Let’s see them pee in a dirty bathroom—”

“Wood.” He holds out his hands. “No judgment here. Your mom is great. I haven’t met your dad, but I’m pretty sure he’s great too.”

That shuts me up. O-kay. I definitely didn’t expect him to say that.

We once again stand before each other in silence.

“How’s your mom doing?” he asks softly, eyes holding genuine concern.

I look away as I swallow hard. “She’s um…she’s doing okay.”

“Really?”

“Uh…” I play with my hair. “She’s putting on a brave face, but I know deep inside…” I snap my lips shut. Am I pouring my heart out to my enemy? “I mean, yeah. She’s good. Looking for a job.”

He steps a little closer, face overflowing with concern. “Any luck?”

I involuntary back up and hit the wall. “Nothing yet. But I’m sure she’ll find something soon.”

Easton nods slowly, but he seems extremely bothered.

“Did you know?” I ask.

“Know?”

“That she’s my mom.”

“I did.”

I stare at him. “How? I mean, we don’t really look alike.”

“Sure you do. Your hair is exactly the same. And you have her smile.”

“Oh…”

“I saw you wink at each other a few weeks ago and it clicked.” He frowns. “No one else paid any attention to her.”

He did, though. He was the only one who did. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him why, but I can’t seem to get the words out. “I should get back to work,” I say as I turn away.

When I enter the studio room, Bailey yells, “Dani!”

She and her brother are ballroom dancing.

I wave and return to sweep the floor. “Is Princess Bailey having fun?” I ask.

“Yes! No! Brayden isn’t a good prince. Princes are supposed to know how to dance.”

“Hey, I’m decent! I took ballet lessons.”

Bailey starts telling him in detail why he’s a terrible dancer. I catch a shadow near the entrance and then Easton marches over to Bailey, spinning her off the ground. “Can I be your prince?”

“Can you dance better than Bray?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t danced much.”

“I’ll teach you!”

I should be working, but my eyes keep flitting to Easton and Bailey. He has zero knowledge of dance, but he still looks hot trying to ballroom dance. His dips are pretty good.

I finish this studio room and move on to the next one. Half an hour later, Bailey rushes inside and tells me she’s going home. I say goodbye to her and her brother, my eyes creeping toward the door for Easton. But I don’t see him anywhere. He must have already left.

The studio is pretty empty now that the dance classes are over, but there are still people hanging around and the staff is still working, so I’m not alone. After I finish cleaning the studio rooms, I move to one of the offices in the front. I nearly drop my pail when I spot Easton sitting on a chair, scrolling through his phone.

“You’re still here?” I ask.

He glances up from his phone. “This chair is super comfortable.” He leans back and sighs happily.

“But what are you doing here?” I ask.

He regards me for a short while. “Am I not allowed to be here?”

“No, you are.”

“Then I’ll rest here for a bit.” He closes his eyes and leans further back on the chair, nearly tipping it over.

I just stand there gawking at him with my mop and pail.

He cracks one eye open. “It’s disconcerting trying to sleep when someone is staring at me.”

“I wasn’t staring at you! You think you’re Prince Charming and look handsome when you sleep?”

He laughs softly. “You said it.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You did.”

“I so did not!”

He winks. “Sure, Wood.” He closes his eyes again.

I want to throw my hands on my hips, but they’re occupied right now. “You’re just going to sleep here?”

He cracks his eye open again. “It’s more like a nap.”

Is he doing this just to irritate me? The best course of action would be to disengage. I turn around and march to the office I’m supposed to clean.

“Hey, Wood?” he calls after me.

I turn around.

“When do you get off?”

“What?”

“When are you leaving?”

“Why are you asking?”

He shrugs. “Just curious.”

“So you can follow me home and murder me and dump me in a dumpster?”

His jaw falls open. “What?”

I wrench my gaze away. Yeah, I did go a little overboard there…

“Sorry,” I mumble. “I won’t leave for a while. I’m going to practice my routine after I’m done with work.”

“For the competition?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Cool.” He settles back in the chair and closes his eyes.

O-kay. He’s being weird. With a shrug, I head into the office and get back to work. As I move through various parts of the studio, I find him in the same position. I don’t think he’s sleeping, though. And I can’t help but feel him watching me from time to time. But it’s probably all in my head.

I finally finish and stash the cleaning supplies in the closet. Then I head to Studio C and put on my music. Jasmine has been helping me fine-tune my routine for the finals, and I think it’s pretty solid. The only thing I need to worry about is getting my body to do what it’s supposed to.

“And a one, two, three…”

I must be rehearsing for half an hour before Easton waltzes into the room and takes a seat on the side. I stop my music and whirl around, throwing my hands on my hips. “What are you doing?” I demand.

He waves his hand. “Don’t stop. You were doing great.”

“Thanks, but you don’t really know anything about dance.”

“True. But it looked good to me.”

I make a move to continue, then stop. “Are you going to sit here while I rehearse?”

“Sure. Got my nap in already.”

“You like doing whatever you like, don’t you?”

“It’s a free country.”

“This is my studio room.”

“Well…considering how much money my family invests in this place, we practically own it.”

I turn around and put on my music. But I don’t start my routine. Not when I catch him watching me through the mirror. I stop the music and spin around. “Why are you even here? Bailey and Brayden left hours ago.”

He shrugs.

“Can’t you bother someone else?”

“No.”

I groan. What’s his deal?

“I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I, Wood? Because you’ll be performing that routine in front of many people. Myself included.”

“Do you even enjoy watching people perform? Or do you only tag along because of your parents?”

He leans back on his chair with a crooked smile. “Sure, I enjoy the performances. Especially the hot girls in leotards.”

I roll my eyes as I turn around.

“I wasn’t referring to you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I whirl back around. “I wasn’t!”

“Mhm. Good.”

“Are you really going to just sit there while I practice?”

“Like I said, it’s a free country.”

Oh my gosh, how annoying is this guy? He went from a jerk to a nuisance. But I don’t have time or patience to deal with his antics. The only thing I need to focus on is getting this routine down perfectly so I could knock it out of the park at the dance finals.

His watching me bothers me a little, but I pretend he’s nothing more than the wallpaper and carry on with practice. When I try to do a pirouette, something I mastered years ago, I lose my balance and stumble, nearly falling flat on my face. “Darn it.”

“That was pretty good,” my audience says.

I give him an incredulous look. “You don’t know anything about ballet. Because that was terrible.”

He shrugs. “You’re too uptight.”

“There’s no room to be lax in dance! This is important to me. Twenty thousand dollars might seem like peanuts to you, but to me—” My lips snap shut and I whip away from him, wiping the tears pricking my eyes.

A few seconds later, I feel a presence behind me. But I don’t turn around. I don’t need him to see how close to tears I am.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I was just trying to encourage you.”

“Well you suck at it.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess I do. I don’t give many pep talks.”

Now I twist around. “What do you want from me, Easton?”

His eyes widen and he steps back. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Then what the heck are you doing here?”

He keeps his eyes on me for a short while before shaking his head and stepping away. “Nothing.”

“Good. So can you please leave me alone? I need to practice.”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry.” He walks out of the room.

Why do I feel like I slapped him across the face? I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is my routine.

Half an hour later, it’s time to go home. I bid goodbye to the staff members and make my way toward the bus stop. But my legs freeze in place when I notice a guy sitting on a bench near the entrance to the studio. Easton, once again scrolling through his phone. He’s still here? I thought he went home.

What’s his deal? Doesn’t he have ways to occupy himself after school? He has a million friends and a mansion most likely full of activities and games…

I push that thought away and make my way to the bus stop. By the time I get home, I’m so exhausted I can barely think straight. I grab an energy drink and gulp it all down. I still need to perfect my routine in my room.

“Hey, you’re home,” Mom says as she enters the kitchen. “How was work?”

“Good.”

“It ran a little later than usual.”

“Yeah, um…” I open the fridge and pretend to look for something. “A kid spilled juice in one of the studio rooms. The floor was so sticky.”

I hate lying to her. But after everything that happened, I really don’t want to get her hopes up. Mom would cling to the hope and it’ll hurt her so much if I don’t win. Which is looking pretty likely.

“Hungry? I’ll warn up your dinner.”

“Thanks.”

I sit down at the table and dig in. “Oh my gosh, Mom, I waited all day for this. They’re starving us at school.”

“What do you mean?”

I swallow and practically gobble down the next piece of chicken. “The new lunch lady can’t cook worth crap. I bet even I can cook better than her.”

Mom nods slowly, her eyes tortured with pain.

“We all miss you, you know. Not just me and my friends. The whole school. If we don’t get a proper meal soon, I think we’ll start eating each other.”

Mom’s eyebrows knit. “If the food is so terrible, I’m sure they’ll replace her.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back?” I ask—no, I’m practically begging. “It’s not the same without you.”

“Honey, we talked about this already.” She places her hand on mine. “It’s best for the both of us if I didn’t work at your school. I want you to have the best experience.”

“But my experience was fine!”

She shakes her head. “Dani, I already made my decision, which wasn’t easy. I ask you to respect my wishes and not bring it up, okay?” Her eyes overflow with more pain.

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “Okay. Sorry, Mom.”

“It’s okay.” She pastes on a smile. “I know you mean well. I love you.”

“Me too.”

I continue eating in silence.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you can make me and my friends lunch? We tried stomaching that food, but…” I grimace. “We value our health. Charlie almost turned into a monster. That girl needs her food. It wasn’t pretty.”

Her eyes soften. “Of course. I’d love to make lunch for you girls.”

I stretch over the table to hug her. “Thanks, Mom. I hope you find a new job soon.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I hope so too.”