Billionaires Don’t Fall For Awkward Girls by Emma Dalton

Chapter Thirty-Three

The dance studio is a disaster today because a little kid threw up in Studio A. While I clean the mess, the rest of the kids scream and yell how much it stinks. I’ve dealt with this stuff many times in the past and you can say I’m a pro at knowing exactly what cleaning product to use to get rid of the smell. When the place is as good as new, the dancers reluctantly return, some wrinkling their noses as though the smell still lingers in the air.

When I head to the front of the studio to clean one of the offices, I find the little boy sitting on a chair outside and crying. “Waiting for your mom?” I ask as I sit down next to him.

He nods and sniffs.

“You know, when I was in first grade I puked all over my classroom floor.”

He lifts his tear-streaked face. “You did?”

I nod. “My classmates made fun of me, calling me Barfelle and yelling how much it stank.”

“What happened?” he asks.

I shrug. “They forgot about it. They always do.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” He wipes his nose with his sleeve. “I told my teacher I didn’t want to eat that egg. It smelled funny. But she made me.”

“Your teacher is a meanie.”

“Yeah,” he says with a small laugh. “Sorry you had to clean up my puke.”

“That’s okay. All part of the job.”

“Tyler?” a woman calls as she steps into the studio.

“Mommy!” He jumps off the chair and into her arms. “I puked during dance class and everyone had to leave so that nice lady could clean.” He points at me.

“Okay,” his mom says as she strokes his hair. “Let’s get you home.”

“My teacher made me eat a stinky egg,” he says as she leads him out of the studio. “I knew it smelled funny.”

“Wow, Dani, you must be magic.”

I turn around and find the specimen of hotness that is my boyfriend leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Man, does he look like delicious man meat, his clothes clinging to him perfectly and his hair neat. Although I have this need to tousle it.

“Magic?” I say nonchalantly as I lift my head.

“You made a miserable kid feel better. That’s magic.”

“Who are you calling magic? Last I checked, I’m a freakin’ goddess.” I gather my cleaning supplies and head to the office, hearing him chuckle behind me.

After I clean the office, I find Easton sitting on the chair Tyler occupied and scrolling through his phone.

“Still here?” I ask as I pass by.

“Just hanging out,” he says with a smile that makes him look even more handsome than he already is. “Waiting for a special someone to finish work.”

“I wonder who this special person is,” I say as I head to the next office. “She sounds like something else.”

“She sure is.”

It takes a little longer to clean this room because there must have been a party in here. I try not to groan as I straighten everything and vacuum the crumbs off the floor. When I emerge from the room, Easton is slumped against the chair, his head hanging forward, his eyes closed. Is he really sleeping or bored out of his mind?

“Easton?” I ask.

No response.

I can’t help but stare at him as he sleeps. How is it possible for someone to look so good as they slumber? I have an itch to brush aside a strand of hair that’s falling into his eye, but I curl my hand into a fist. I don’t want to wake him. He was up all night cramming for a chem test he couldn’t study for because of a business meeting with his parents.

I stash away the cleaning supplies and make my way to Studio C, putting the music on low volume in case it might wake him. The dance finals are coming up and I almost have the routine down perfectly. Jasmine claims it’s a solid routine and could win me the twenty grand. I don’t know how true that is, but I’m clinging to the hope.

I put everything I have into my practice, pushing myself to the limit. I don’t care how much sweat drips down my face or that my body begs to be hydrated. I’ve got my eyes on the prize and nothing else.

Someone grips my waist and pulls me against his hard, strong body, “You’re a goddess,” Easton murmurs against my ear. “The hottest goddess in the universe.” He sweeps his lips against the side of my neck, causing tingles to spread over my body.

“Easton,” I gasp.

“You started without me,” he continues to murmur. “You know how much I love watching you dance.”

“Sorry. You just looked so comfy sleeping there.”

He spins me around and looks into my eyes. “I wouldn’t miss you dancing for anything.”

I laugh as I pull away from him. “I’m all gross and sweaty.”

“You’re perfect. Inside and out.”

He makes a move to pull me to his chest, but I push out my palms against his shoulders. “Finals are in three weeks. Stop distracting me.”

He grins mischievously. “You know you want me to distract you.”

“Stop,” I giggle as he nuzzles his nose into my neck. “Seriously, Easton, I need to get this down.”

“Okay.” He steps away and sits down on one of the chairs.

It’s a little hard for to me practice when he’s sitting right there looking so darn delicious. The way his eyes follow me as I dance…I didn’t think anyone would look at me like that. He makes me feel beautiful and confident and that I’m perfect just the way I am. Awkwardness and all.

When I’m done the routine, Easton jumps to his feet and claps. “Bravo! Encore, encore!”

I laugh. “I made a few mistakes.”

“There’s actually something I think you can improve on.”

“What?” I ask, panic settling in. I thought the routine was nearly flawless, just a few minor missteps in the beginning.

He steps behind me and tugs me to his body so my back is pressed against his chest. “It’s missing my touch.” His warm breath tickles my cheek, making my hair stand up and my breathing grow heavy. His breathing grows heavy as well.

He starts to lead me in a dance. Either he’s watched a few dancing tutorials or learned something from Bailey because he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s leading me in a sexy, charismatic manner that has my heart galloping in my chest. He lifts me off the ground as though I weigh less than a feather and spins me around, holding me close to his body as though we were made to be together. His dips are perfect and passionate and he stares into my eyes like I’m the only person on the planet.

“Too bad you’re not a dancer,” I whisper as our foreheads touch. “We could do a pairs routine and win.”

“You don’t need me to win,” he murmurs as his fingers tangle in my hair that has loosened from my ponytail. “You’re incredible just the way you are.”

“I’m an incredible dancer, you mean.”

He shakes his head. “You’re an incredible everything.”

“I can’t believe I thought you were my sworn enemy,” I say with a laugh.

“I can’t believe someone as amazing as you exists.”

I stare into his eyes, seeing a whole lot of emotions in there. Feelings for me. I dreamed for someone to look into my eyes like that. But I never imagined it would actually happen, and with a guy like Easton.

I slide my hand into his and pull him out of the studio room.

“Where are we going?” he asks as I continue pulling him down the hallway. I stop before a supply closet and open it, kicking it shut behind us. “A janitor’s office?” he asks. “What—”

I grab the front of his shirt and yank him closer to me, closing my mouth over his. He gently pushes me against the wall as one hand wraps around my waist, pulling me closer until there is no space between our bodies. His other hand goes to my hair, where he clutches it, holding my head in place.

We take a break, pressing our foreheads together again. “Who knew sneaking in a closet could be so hot?” he murmurs.

“You’re hot,” I breathe.

He pushes some hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “You’re hot. And beautiful and amazing.”

“You just described yourself.”

He shakes his head. “I described Danielle Wood.”

Searching his eyes, I discover he means every word he said. I wrap my hand around the back of his head and tug his face to mine.