Mark

“Stop,” I say, cutting the music. Faith stumbles briefly but catches herself. Sweat stains her brow and forehead as she straightens up to glare at me. She’s really thrown herself into the dance, but if we keep on like this, I won’t be able to keep my hands off her. I need food first and foremost.

“Let’s take a break,” I say.

“We’ve barely practiced,” Faith says, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead.

“I know. But I’m hungry.”

“Um. Okay.”

“I know this little hole-in-the-wall burger place downtown,” I say, reaching for my jacket and then for the keys in the pocket. “Are you hungry?”

Faith shrugs, looking like she might want to argue with me again, but then she seems to think better of it and she resigns with a sigh.

“I could eat.”

Faith barely speaks to me as I drive us to the little burger place the guys and I love. I can’t really blame her for not talking, though, because I’m not exactly trying to create or hold a conversation. In fact, I’m doing everything in my power to pretend like Faith is nothing more than the common enemy, and not like I’m having a sexual crisis happening in my groin every time I catch a whiff of her scent.

“Here we are,” I say, and Faith doesn’t respond as she leads the way to the front door.

We step into the little shabby diner and the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelopes us. Hot coffee is my favorite smell. Briefly, I wonder what hers is. I’m not going to ask, though.

The warm air hums with a gentle buzz of conversation, mingling with the soft melody of clinking silverware. A cozy booth by the window beckons, and we settle into its worn-out seats.

“Order whatever you want,” I tell her as the server hands us menus. “It’s my treat.”

Faith doesn’t say anything, but she’s smirking behind the menu, her red lips curled with satisfaction. I hate to admit it, but she’s growing on me. I no longer believe she’s the meek little girl we saw out on the lawn that day.

As Faith peruses the menu, her eyes lit with curiosity and hunger, I can't help but notice her appetite is far from dainty. She orders a burger and fries with a chocolate shake to wash it down with, and she eats with the voracity of an athlete, unapologetically embracing the joy of good food.

I fucking love that.

“I told you they were good here,” I say, taking a bite of my burger as Faith pushes a French fry between her lips. She’s looking around, people-watching, and the less interested she acts toward me, the harder it is to stop thinking those thoughts that are swimming around in my brain, pushing my self-control into oblivion.

“So,” she says finally after a few minutes of silence has passed between us. Her blue eyes meet mine, and I almost fucking melt into a pathetic little pile right there at her feet. “Are you super bummed out that Danny wants me on the team?”

I take another bite of my burger and wash it down with a drink of my Coke, eying her over the glass, pondering what to say. I don’t want to converse with her, to show any emotion. But I invited her, and now she’s my problem.

“Look,” I say, pushing my soda back and leaning forward, resting my elbows on the top of the table. “I’m going to level with you, Faith.”

“Please do.” Her tone is dripping with sarcasm and disdain. I almost flinch. Almost.

“I think our team is better without you,” I say, ignoring the flash of hurt in her eyes as she narrows them in my direction. “I think Danny, Theo, and I are all we need. And I think you’re going to fuck shit up.”

“By dancing?” Faith asks. “Or by existing?”

By being you, I want to say. By shaking your tight little ass for us for the three of us until one of us breaks and wants you …

… but that’s not the answer she’s looking for.

“For a lot of reasons,” I say instead. “We’ve been doing this a long time. And we have a competition coming up that I don’t think you’re going to be ready for.”

Faith scoffs. “First of all, don’t insult me. I’ve been dancing for a long time, too. I danced before I walked. Danced before I ran.”

“You and me both, chick,” I say, and her eyebrows shoot straight up. She leans back in the booth seat and folds her arms over her chest, eying me.

“My mother was a teacher,” she says. “A ballet instructor at Julliard. I learned under her. She was—magnificent.”

I watch Faith’s reaction to herself as she speaks. Her lips tighten, arms closing in even more tightly around themselves. I can tell she doesn’t like talking about her dead mother, and briefly, I have sympathy for her.

She’s not the only one with a dead parent.

“So, what?” I prod her. “Did Daddy raise you?”

“He and his new wife did,” Faith says, and it’s evident in her tone that his new wife is not one of Faith’s favorite people. “But Sadie … she’s a bitch.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.” Faith looks away from me briefly before turning back to take a sip of her ice water. She seems to have lost her appetite, and I feel bad for snooping. “Sadie, if she knew I was dancing, she’d hang me out to dry.”

“Really.” I’m surprised to hear this. Why would her stepmother care so much?

“My father is funding college,” she explains as if reading my mind. “And his money is Sadie’s money. I know that’s the reason she married him in the first place.”

“So why does she care if you dance or not?”

Faith shrugs. “She’s always hated dance because she’s always hated that I loved my mother more than her. As if it could possibly be any other way, you know? It’s a waste of time, she thinks. They want me to major in economics or something similar, and dancing for her is frivolous. She won’t waste the money. Besides, she thinks dancing is sinful.”

I whistle gently through my teeth, and Faith nods in agreement. “She’s the worst.”

Faith and I talk for a while longer. She tells me about her mother and her father, and how Sadie has changed him into a man she doesn’t recognize. I feel for her, but I know it’s not appropriate to comment, so I simply listen, and this seems to appease her. I can’t stop staring at Faith, wondering how her skin would feel against mine, how her lips might taste between my teeth. God, I fucking want her.

But that’s against the rules.

“Should we call it a night?” I ask, glancing at the time on my phone. I’m surprised to see that it’s almost ten. We’ve been here for over two hours. Time has escaped us. I wonder how Danny would feel knowing that we ditched practice way early to eat burgers and fries all night instead.

“I guess,” Faith says, also glancing at the time. “I have a text from my roommate. She’s wondering where I am.”

“I better get you home then.”

She nods reluctantly as I pay our bill, then, much to her obvious surprise, I offer my hand to help her out of the booth, letting it linger there a moment or two longer than necessary. When we step outside to head to the car, it’s raining. Or, more like a downpour.

“Damn,” Faith mutters. “I didn’t bring my jacket.”

I shrug off my own jacket, grin at her, then hold the jacket over both of our heads as we duck beneath the drops of water and rush for the car. I almost face-plant into a puddle, and Faith laughs, helping steady me. We’re both laughing and panting by the time we reach my car, and I open the door for Faith. She slides into the passenger’s seat and turns to look at me, her red lips pulled between her teeth seductively. Before I know what’s happening, I’m leaning down to kiss her, pressing my lips against her own. A moan escapes her throat, encouraging me, and we continue to kiss, being pelted by the rain as I stand there, but I no longer care.

Faith pulls away first, her hand fluttering to her lips as her surprised eyes search my face. I don’t know what to say or how to react, but I do know one thing.

I think I’ve fucked up.