Page 99 of Trailer Trash

“I didn’t know you were so... you do ballroom?”

“Mm-hm. I know all of them. Jazz, hip hop, contemporary. I’ve been dancing since I was a kid. Frida was my partner.” He points at a large picture on the wall above a bench. It’s a picture of Killian and Frida at a competition. The visual is stunning. She’s wearing almost nothing, yet looks like glamor defined. Killian is striking, commanding the dance floor.

“We were the best in the world at one point.” He narrows his eyes and glances around the room. “Frida,” he calls out. “Where’s the picture of me and Asher in the music video?”

“I took it down,” she shouts across the room.

He chuckles. “Frida will always hate Asher.”

“You were in music videos?”

“Yep. I was a great backup dancer at concerts, too. But none of it pays much unless you have a studio like Frida.”

“I had no idea. Why did you stop?”

“Dad wanted me to be a doctor. I decided to be neither.” Then he shrugs, as if his lifelong craft is meaningless. “Want to try this dance?”

But he takes my hand and practically drags me to the other side of the room. I glance at the others. They watch, but Frida soon redirects the students to practice.

“Kill— I don’t know how,” I panic.

He brings me close and places his hand on my back. “I’ll show you.”

Of course, we don’t line up at all. Our reflection in the wall-sized mirror is comical, especially with my ass sticking out.

“Don’t be nervous,” he soothes.

He can tell I’m anxious, and that doesn’t help. He begins guiding me, showing me the steps. I am a hell of a club dancer, but this is foreign territory. I mess up, trip over his feet, predict the wrong direction. I’m a disaster.

I tip my head back and he’s wearing that crooked smile I love so much. He isn’t frustrated, and that’s surprising. It makes my mistakes easier to laugh about.

“I am so terrible at this,” I say, giggling softly.

He slows and his hand presses my body flush with his. I nearly melt against his warmth. He lowers his head and murmurs, “You’re doing so good, Harlow.”

I blush, and when I peek at our reflection again, we look better together.

At least, that’s what I want to believe.

“You can come here on your lunch break. I’ll teach you,” he says abruptly.

I furrow my brow. “When will I eat?”

He stops and searches the floor. “I’ll have it delivered.”

“I’m already really busy. I have a time limit. In fact, I need to get on the road before my next class starts.”

He sighs under his breath and nods, slow and maybe even disappointed.

Who is this man? Because he sure seems interested in moments like this, then doesn’t. The Killian I knew would steal a kiss or touch my butt. He definitely would say lewd things to make me squirm.

I can’t take it. This feels too good, and I want more. I just have to know. I have to.

“Killian,” I murmur and stare straight at our shoes because I can’t look him in the eye. “I have feelings for you. I know you want sex, but I need more.”

Silence.

Then—