Dancing Under The Moonlight Chapter 1

It started during rehearsal, when I casually pointed out that Brianna, the undisputed golden girl of our class, was half a beat behind the music.

The words had barely left my mouth before her childhood-best-friend-slash-not-so-secret-admirer charged across the room and shoved me down the risers in front of the entire theater company.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Gina?" he yelled, pointing a finger an inch from my nose. "The choreographer didn't say a word. Who do you think you are, picking her apart from the back row?"

Before I could answer, he whipped around to face the director. "I say we kick her out of the showcase. She’s just going to drag Brianna down and wreck our pacing."

Right on cue, Brianna turned around, her eyes instantly brimming with glossy, photogenic tears. "Maybe we should just let Gina be the lead dancer," she told the director, her voice trembling with manufactured grace.

Her loyal watchdog practically bent over laughing. "Are you kidding me? I’ve known her since we were kids. The girl trips over her own feet walking down the hallway. If she can lead a dance routine, I’ll eat dirt on a livestream!"

A chorus of snickers rippled through the cast. I didn't say a word. I just slowly picked myself up off the linoleum, dusted off my leggings, and shot him a dead-eyed stare.

"Cool. Grab a spoon."

* * *

The absolute flatline of my voice sucked the air out of the room. One second, the studio was echoing with laughter; the next, you could hear a pin drop.

Connor’s smug grin morphed into ugly, blotchy rage. He vaulted down the wooden steps of the risers, his hand snapping out to grab my upper arm. He leaned in, his jaw ticking.

"Gina, can you just drop the attitude for once?" he hissed through his teeth. "I knew you were plotting something. I was wondering why you—of all people—suddenly volunteered for the showcase when you usually don't give a damn about this stuff. But you had it all figured out, didn't you? You just wanted to steal Brianna's spot."

He sneered, his voice rising for the audience. "When did you get so toxic?"

Just like that, he slapped a label on my forehead, bold and permanent, right in front of everyone.

The entire junior class knew that Connor and I were the ultimate cliché: the inseparable neighbors, the childhood best friends. We practically shared a sandbox. And right now, his words were the hammer driving a completely fabricated narrative straight into my chest. The looks the rest of the cast were giving me shifted from amused to suspicious.

"Connor, stop it!"

Brianna pushed her way to the front row, her eyes beautifully red-rimmed. She tugged gently at the hem of Connor’s hoodie, playing the role of the wounded martyr perfectly. "Even if Gina was just being petty and spoke out of turn, you shouldn't yell at her like that. Just apologize to her, and let's forget the whole thing happened."

She bit her lip, offering him a sad, forgiving little smile. It looked like she was trying to calm him down, but anyone paying attention could see it was gasoline on a fire.

"Why the hell should I apologize to her?" Connor flared up, right on cue. "She should be apologizing to you!"

He jerked my arm, nearly making me stumble, and barked an order for me to apologize to Brianna in front of the entire room.

Apologize? For what?

"I stated a fact," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. I used every ounce of strength I had to rip my arm out of his grip. I let my eyes drift over to Brianna, who was still clutching her metaphorical pearls.

"Brianna," I said, the syllables crisp and cold in the quiet room. "Have you suddenly reached a level of artistic divinity where no one is allowed to give you a note? Because if you're going to break down sobbing over someone telling you that you're off-tempo, what are you going to do when you actually get on stage? If the audience doesn't give you a standing ovation, are you going to throw yourself off the balcony?"

"And you—" I didn't wait to watch Brianna’s face flush a furious, humiliating crimson. I turned my attention back to Connor, whose expression had gone rigid.

I didn't know when the boy I grew up with had turned into this defensive, irrational stranger, but I hoped to God he hadn't forgotten that I held grudges. He wanted to try and humiliate me? Fine. I’d hand it right back to him.

I took a slow, deliberate breath. "I know you're in love with her, Connor. It's high school. A guy playing the white knight for the girl he’s obsessed with is a tale as old as time. But do me a favor and stop acting like a rabid dog barking at everything that moves. It’s not romantic. It’s pathetic."

A smirk ghosted across my mouth. I didn't hide the venom in my voice, and the collective gasp from the theater kids was immediate. The gossip mill ignited in real-time.

"Wait, Connor likes Brianna? Since when?"

"Gina’s known him forever. If she’s saying it, it’s definitely true."

Dozens of eager, drama-starved eyes began ping-ponging between Brianna and Connor.

Connor’s face went scarlet, then a deep, furious purple. "Gina! Shut the fuck up!"

"Oh," I said softly, tilting my head. "So you don't like her, then."