Tyler shrugs. “Never question a circus boy’s wardrobe. We gotta come prepared for anything.”

“That and we talked to our RA about pulling from the costume shop,” Branden says.

Tyler slugs him on the shoulder. “Stop giving away our trade secrets!”

“Break it up, ladies,” Riley says with a laugh. “We’ve got work to do. Tyler, are you ready with the moves?”

Tyler nods, suddenly completely serious. Kevin smirks beside him—clearly, Tyler’s the only one who’s really getting into this. I wish I had half his enthusiasm. Or Riley’s.

“Okay!” she says, a huge grin on her face. “Tyler, I’m leaving you in charge. I’ve got the music whenever you want it. And Jennifer?” she asks, turning to me.

“Yeah?”

“Try to keep up. This boy’s choreo is killer.”

•  •  •

Practice goes way too fast.

Not that that keeps me from feeling completely overwhelmed in the little time we have. I’m sweating after only a few minutes of trying to follow Tyler’s complex dance moves, once more wishing I’d done something to prepare myself for all this. Why hadn’t I taken dance classes like my mom insisted? Or gymnastics? Or even track?

It’s quickly decided that I’ll stay in front and do only a minimal amount of moving—and always at well-cued points in the music, so there’s no chance of me messing up. Well, less of a chance of me messing up.

On the plus side, even though my moves are shaky, the boys more than make up for it. Tyler’s a natural teacher, and both Branden and Kevin are apt pupils. That said, they’re all sweating by the time Tyler’s done running them through the routine a half-dozen times. At least I’m not the only one who looks like I got rained on.

Riley is playing the director, since she wanted to focus solely on her juggling routine, which apparently consists of hula hooping while juggling fake knives. Seeing as she’s flinging blades—dull or not—by her face, I don’t pressure her into joining us. I’d rather not have to show her where the ER is in this town. It’s kind of a trek.

“Great job, guys,” she says. “This is going to be amazing! Tyler, you’re half a count ahead during the last thirty seconds. And Branden, if you could maybe try to smile so it doesn’t look like you’re dying onstage, that would be awesome too.”

“What about Kevin?” Tyler asks, sticking his tongue out at him.

“Kevin’s perfect just the way he is,” Riley says.

“Told you so,” Kevin says.

Tyler rolls his eyes, but he’s cut short by Kevin leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“D’aww, you’re too cute,” Riley says.

Tyler responds by pulling Kevin into a dip and kissing him full on.

“Okay, okay!” Riley yells, giggling. “Get a room, you two.”

It’s adorable, but at that moment I look over to Branden. His eyes flick to catch mine, and something makes butterflies explode in my chest. Eventually, he looks away. I’m pretty certain his already flushed face goes a little redder.

This is exactly how I felt at the dinner table, only much stronger. And suddenly all I can think of is how perfect it would be if tonight, right after we were amazing onstage, he could sweep me into a kiss. He must feel it too. There’s an electricity running between us, even though we’re not making eye contact. A pull. Like magnets, I feel the desire to inch toward him. I mentally cross my fingers and hope that tonight’s the night I get my first kiss. Spotlights and all.

Screw Josh and those mental games. Tonight’s the night I get over him and move on to being with better guys.

“Earth to Jenn,” Riley says, nudging me on the shoulder. “You still in there?”

I shake my head. Crap. I was staring right at Branden. Thankfully, he was too busy practicing a turn with Kevin and Tyler to notice. I hope.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Come on,” she says, following my gaze. “Let’s go get you changed. It’s your big night, after all.” Then she winks, and I have a funny feeling she knows exactly what I was daydreaming about.

That just makes me blush harder.

Chapter

Sixteen

There’s really nothing more nerve-racking than being in a talent show. Let me rephrase that: There’s nothing more nerve-racking than being in a talent show and going last.

For some reason, Riley opted for us to take the final slot in the roster, which I think is a terrible idea but she seems to believe means we’ll make a lasting impression.

“Come on,” she coerces backstage, “this way you’ll be the last thing everyone’s thinking about.”

I shrug. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?” I whisper. “I mean, if this was just to impress Branden, we’ve won—he’s already in the group!”

She shrugs her shoulders and tosses a knife in the air, catching it without even looking. Her solo act was a few routines ago; she pulled it off without dropping a single knife or hula hoop.

“Dream bigger, Jenn. This isn’t just about impressing Branden. This is about impressing everyone here, including Megan. Once she sees you two onstage together, she’ll get the hint. Then it will be nothing but loving looks and kissy-poo time with Branden for the rest of camp.”

I actually snort with laughter. “Did you just say ‘kissy-poo’?”

She grins. “You’ll be coming back next year,” she says, like there’s no question at all, “and this will show everyone else who returns that you’re multitalented. Coaches love that sort of thing. Who knows, they might even have you sing for next year’s show.”

The thought of that much pressure makes me want to throw up, so I focus instead on Branden, who’s on the other side of the backstage wing. We’re on in two acts, and he’s peering at the group onstage—a clown troupe, naturally, doing some skit with a squirting umbrella—with almost as much nervousness on his face as me. Seeing him brings back all the butterflies from before, but this is a nausea I’m okay with. I can deal. Tyler and Kevin are nowhere to be seen.

We applaud when the clowns are done; they’re all soaking wet, and their bows get the front row of the audience even wetter. I’m really grateful we’re back here and not out there. Riley dressed me up in a sequined gold top that reaches my thigh, and tiny black shorts you can barely see past the hem. That, paired with some gold flats and a half-dozen bangles—not to mention all the makeup she splashed on me—and I feel like a rock star. Let’s hope I actually look like one and not just like one of those clowns out there.

I refused to let myself look in the mirror beforehand.

Someone brushes past me and shoves me to the side. I ­stumble and look back. Of course. Megan and her sisters.

“Sorry,” she says with a smile that says she isn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t see you there. I thought you were just a pile of discarded glitter.”

“Leave off her, Megan,” Sara says. I know it’s Sara—it’s the same sister who gave me that weird, almost-apologetic look earlier. Megan glares at her sister. Why in the world is Sara defending me?

“What are you doing back here?” I ask instead.

She just smiles and adjusts her top—a low-cut white thing that my mom would never have let me leave the house wearing.

“Performing,” she says, then she and her sisters take the stage. Sara mouths sorry before stepping into the limelight.

I don’t know what’s worse: seeing Megan onstage, surrounded by her gorgeous blond sisters, and knowing that even Branden’s eyes are stuck on her, or knowing the moment her music starts that she’s stolen my song.

Riley starts cursing under her breath immediately. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her swear, but she definitely knows a lot of colorful words. And I won’t lie—they describe my feelings toward Megan pretty perfectly.