Page 41

Delores

“Ready for our daily grind, Dolly?” Cori calls from the stage.

I smile, feeling sore from dance class but excited to see my friends again. We’re nearly done with the tap unit—the routine being the entirety of our exam—and then I’ll be able to ditch the tiny, ass-baring tap shorts and sports bra I’m still wearing. I haven’t changed yet, because Fitz helpfully pointed out it would convince Chess to allow us to work on the Halloween costumes during our design periods until after exams. Even I’m self-aware enough to realize that I’m wearing little more than a bikini in this dance gear, and I agree it will distract the fuck out of anyone who sees it.

I still didn’t sprint across campus wearing nothing but this shit. I’m not suicidal.

Waving hello to my friends, I walk to where they have piles of fabrics, sequins, lace, sewing baskets, and pattern pieces strewn about like a fabric store exploded, unzipping the giant hoodie I’ve decided Fitz is never getting back. As comfy as it is, it gets boiling in here because of the lighting, and I’d rather not be sweating, no matter how much I love the feeling of safety wearing it brings me.

Todd was a mannerless ass-pig who never once offered me his jacket, even if it was twenty below. I want to experience real boyfriend stuff, even if it’s only in my head.

Dropping my bag on the wooden boards, I frown. No one has actually said I’m their girlfriend—not even Fitz. I sort of assumed they were serious about me, but… that might be my na?veté showing again. Dickhead Todd simply told people I was his, and I went along with it because I was a young, swoony idiot. These professors are men; and I don’t know if I’m delusional in thinking things are more official than they are.

W hat future could they possibly see with me?

Frowning, I plop down in front of the pile of sample pieces Cori is using to teach me to sew. I told her I didn’t know a whip stitch from a whip-it, but she assured me she could teach anyone. I can feel eyes on me as I thread my needle with the day-glow thread I’m using for the hem of this dress, and when I can’t take it anymore, I look up from my project and wrinkle my nose at my friends.

“Why are you staring at me like I have a big bug on my face?” I pause, eyes widening. “I don’t, do I?”

Rufus snorts and shakes his head. “Chill the fuck out, Dollypop. You’re insect free, but you look like someone drowned your pussy and not in a good way. What’s got those skimpy knickers in a twist?”

“Rufus! Be nice,” Cori chides as she tugs a piece of thread with her teeth. “You know she’s shy about that shit. Talking about her Penis Flytrap won’t make that any better.”

I choke, sputtering incoherently as my face flushes bright red. “My-my… what?! ”

Howling as he falls backward onto the floor, Rufus clutches his stomach. It’s several minutes before he’s able to sit up again—meanwhile, my face is getting increasingly hotter. “Oh, Dollybear, your face was priceless.”

Cori smirks, trying to hide her mirth by focusing on the sequins she’s applying to the bodice of the costume she’s working on. Rufus stares at her until she throws a hand up. “Fine. She looked like I pissed on her LaPerla, and it was fucking hysterical. Happy now, you bitch?”

His smug smile is affirmative, and he turns back to me. “We are going to have to desensitize you to dirty talk. No way those naughty professors are going to spout poetry when you fuck. Well, maybe the morose gargoyle will. You’ve gotta quit blushing like you’re losing your V-Card all over again.”

“Fitz talks dirty all the time and I do just fine!” I retort indignantly.

Rufus’ smile is even craftier than before. “Do tell, girl. ”

Cori smacks him right in the chest as she snorts. “Stop baiting her, Ru-Ru. She’ll tell us deets when she’s comfortable. Besides, she didn’t look embarrassed when she came in; she looked sad. Maybe we could focus on that rather than gathering material for your spank bank?”

I give her a relieved look before realizing now I’m expected to spill what’s making me sad. That’s no more comfortable than discussing details of my burgeoning sex life, so I shrug. “I dunno. Just a heavy morning, I suppose. Mid-semester blues, maybe.”

“If you think I’m buying that, my uncle Sal has a swamp he’d like to sell you. It’s in a hot real estate market and that’s just as true as what we just got from you.” Rufus arches his brow and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Okay, okay. I’m feeling a little insecure about the lack of definition in my relationships. Well, okay, maybe not all of them because some have barely started, but...”

“Aw, the whittle tiger hasn’t asked you to wear his pin yet?” Rufus bats his lashes and chuckles. “Cori, help me out with this, so I don’t sound like an asshole.”

The polar bear looks up, clearly surprised. “Um… well, I think he means dudes suck at defining that shit because they’re raised to pretend they don’t have emotions. Hence, why I’m a vagitarian with a love for the clambake. But your guys are probably caught up in something even more complex—they’re much older, your teachers, and none of them have a reputation for their dating skills. In fact, most of them are known for barely acknowledging women, while the tigers are known for playboy shit.”

I take a moment to ponder that, rolling around the idea in my mind. Their reluctance to start a discussion about what our various relationships mean might be nothing more than their level of inexperience, despite their age or track records. Aphrodite knows the tiger group is clueless about Rennie and Aubrey—and once I knew it was super obvious. Maybe they’re just as dumb about me.

I’m certainly not eager to put myself out there, either, am I?

“You percolate on that, sweetness. I, however, would prefer to work the gloomies out in other ways.” Rufus holds his hand out and I take it. He pulls me to my feet and then helps Cori up. When we’re all standing, he leans over and digs a bluetooth speaker out of his bag with a triumphant look. “Ah-ha!”

“Are you going to play some sort of relationship audiobook? Preds Are from Mars, Prey Are from Venus?” I give him a perplexed look as he fusses to pair his DiePhone with the speaker.

Cori snorts. “Hell no. Ru-Ru finds dancing meditative. That’s how we solve all our deep-seated traumas. Dance it out.” She thinks for a moment. “Maybe we should write a book about it...”

“Far too much work, Coco. Plus, I’m not sharing my family’s therapy methods with the world. Between the mosh pit and drinking moonshine until you puke, I’m keeping those secrets to myself, thanks.” He winks as he fiddles with a playlist and finally, Ke$ha is blasting at full volume. “Now, dance, ladies.”

I’m still limber from my earlier class, and this is significantly better than tap, which has never been my favorite. I kick off my shoes, giving them both a mischievous look as I wiggle to the beat. Rufus claps, shaking his hips obscenely, and Cori joins us with some impressive booty shaking. The beat is electric, and we take turns singing the lyrics as we dance around the stage like crazy.

Rufus smirks as he pulls off a ridiculous breakdancing move, and I hoot as he flips and turns. To my surprise, Cori waits for him to finish and starts a 2-step hip hop routine that he follows along with easily. I should have known they’d be decent dancers, given that theater folk have to learn damn near every art form to be successful. They finish with a high five as the song changes to ‘ Good Girls Go Bad ’—a favorite of mine—and gesture at me to take center stage.

I’m definitely not used to doing this in front of anyone beside my reflection in the mirror, but I wait for the bridge before starting a series of fouettes across the stages. Ballet is what I’m most comfortable doing, because Lucille allowed me to take those lessons, along with ballroom. The break hits as I stop at upstage left, and I wink at my friends as they holler and whistle. Their encouragement makes me feel brave. Since they’re the only other shifters here, I raise my hands, do a quick run to gain speed, and bust out my cartwheels and handsprings. When I land just shy of the lip of the stage, I turn towards them with a shit-eating grin, only to find them gaping at me like landed trout.

This is awkward.

“What?” I shrug, cringing as I worry my rickety gymnastics looked stupid .

“Dolly, that was amazing! If you can do stuff like that, we can pick something cool as hell, like Newsies!” Cori gushes, as she claps her hands in excitement.

Rufus is oddly serious, tilting his head at me thoughtfully. “Do it again. Flip that ass back this way, Dollypop.”

Wrinkling my nose, I give him a confused look. “Why?”

“I just wanna see it again. Can you do the splits at the end?”

He crosses his arms over his chest as if he’s challenging me, and I feel my bunny rearing her head, as if to say, ‘how dare you?’. That’s interesting. Since I started working on mindfully harnessing my animal in Shifter Basics, I have noticed she gets her back up when she senses any potential threat. Is there such a thing as an alpha prey animal?

Hell if I know, but I’m thinking I might be one.

Taking a deep breath, I channel all the energetic fury she’s stirring up and funnel it into the lead-up run. My palms hit the wood as I execute the first cartwheel, each subsequent flip and twist getting more complex. The last move I do before I run out of stage is a back handspring, and as my feet hit the floor, I let the front one slide out until I’m in a full split.

Holy Shit, I did it!

Not bad for a self-taught klutzy bunny, eh? Lucille has always sworn that I was so clumsy as a child that they thought I had a balance problem, but here I am doing my best impression of Simone Biles and everyone is clapping and cheering!

Wait a minute. Everyone?

I squint at my friends in puzzlement when I hear an echo of their applause coming from behind me in the theater. Rufus does a little shimmy, clearly pleased with himself.

“Angel, that was incredible! What are you wearing?”

My eyes widen as I turn to find Chess standing at the edge of the stage with a box of sewing supplies for the costumes at his feet. Cori’s requested order must have arrived and now he… Oh, dear. I’m never going to live this down. I give him a sheepish smile as I wiggle my fingers in an awkward wave. “Oh, um, hi, Che… Professor. We were uh… just dancing. You know, to uh… burn off energy.”

Cori snorts and I whip my head around to glare at her, finding her studying her fingernails as if they hold the answers to the universe. The bitchy honey badger keeps grinning like the Joker, clearly enjoying the show. Great. Neither of them is going to lift a finger to get me out of the mess they created!

“This exercise required that outfit?” Chess quirks a brow, his lips curving. My nose twitches as I pick up on pheromones I’ve never noticed before, and I realize the pred trapped inside him must be trying to claw its way to the surface.

Why is that so hot?

I shoot him a bratty look, crossing my arms over my chest in a way I know stresses my boobs. “I’m wearing the required uniform for dance, which was my last block, and the schedule here doesn’t exactly allow for much time between classes. We were making costumes until we took a dance break, so it’s a good thing I didn't change.”

The struggle in his expression is real as I pop my hip out, and I almost giggle, enjoying the effect I have on him. We stare at each other in tense silence until Rufus finally hops off the stage, strutting to our professor and grabbing the box from him.

“Thanks, teach. This will help us continue to work on costumes, while taking sexy dance breaks.” Rufus bats his lashes and waves his hand. “Now shoo, so we can work on the surprise. Go on now. Ogle your girlfriend after class.”

My mouth drops open, and Chess pales before he nods and turns on his heel like he’s running from a plague of locusts. As he disappears, I hiss at the badger. “What was the point of that?”

Rufus drops to the stage and starts tearing open the box as he cackles like a madman. Cori sighs and joins him, giving me a ‘sorry, not sorry’ look. As much as I want to be mad at my friends—or possibly kill them slowly—I realize they may have just done me a favor by moving things along.

I guess I’ll let them live.