Complete Nothing (True Love #2)(30)

She’d already teased and fluffed my hair, applied more mascara to my lashes than I normally wore for a recital, and dotted my cheeks with berry-shaded blush. Now she was coming at me, wielding a pink lip-gloss wand like a sword.

“Yes, but what am I going to say?” I asked when she was done touching up my lips. I used my phone to take a picture of myself. I looked like a baby-faced prostitute. I hoped this Keegan person hadn’t told True that this was the look he was into. I wasn’t sure I could replicate it on my own, let alone get up the guts to leave the house like this. Or make it past my mother without getting grounded.

Keegan Traylor. His name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why. True had told me the basics—that he was hot and he went to St. Joe’s, but I didn’t know anyone at St. Joe’s. It was a boys’ school, and as far as I knew, no one from there had ever joined my dance studio, so why would I?

“You’re a dancer, right?” she said, capping the lip gloss and tossing it into my leather bag. “Tell him you felt something pop in your ankle at your last rehearsal. He’ll check you out and tell you you’re fine and then we’re out of here.”

“And how am I going to get alone time with his son?” I asked, glancing nervously at the woman behind the glass doors. She had teeny bifocals and a pig nose and kept looking over at us like she suspected something. Maybe because I was the only minor in the waiting room without an adult. Or because True was performing a rom-com-worthy makeover in her waiting room.

“Don’t worry,” True replied with a wave of her hand. “It’s taken care of.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Claudia Catalfo?”

We both looked up.

“That’s him,” True whispered, turning away from me to hide behind her hair.

“No. Way,” I said.

“Yes way,” she replied.

The single most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen stood at the corner separating the waiting room from the exam rooms. He was tall and broad-shouldered with perfect posture and was wearing a light-blue polo shirt with a white doctor’s jacket over it, which brought out the incredible cocoa-and-milk color of his skin. He looked like he’d just stepped off the set of some hot new medical drama. Emphasis on the “hot.” If Peter ever saw me with this guy, he’d eat his heart out.

“Nice work,” I said under my breath, feeling disloyal for my thoughts.

“I know,” she sang.

But then, it wasn’t disloyal. Peter and I were no longer together. At least, not for the moment. And he had a sophomore giving him lap dances in the middle of pep rally practice, not to mention what had gone on in the cafeteria. Every time I thought about the way that girl had just draped herself across him this afternoon, I wanted to kick something.

“Claudia Catalfo?” he said again.

“Go!” True whispered.

I got up, and she kicked my foot. Right. I was supposed to be in pain here. I limped toward Keegan Traylor, and he smiled at me. I swear my knees almost buckled. No one should be allowed to be that good-looking in real life. It simply wasn’t fair to the rest of us normal humans.

“Claudia?” he said.

“Yes?” I breathed.

“I’m Keegan,” he said. “Right this way.”

He led me down a carpeted hallway and into exam room two. A man who had to be his father was sitting on a rolling stool near the counter, clicking through pages on a laptop. He looked up, smiling, when we entered. Yep. Same perfect teeth. Same friendly brown eyes.

“Hi, Claudia. I’m Dr. Traylor,” he said, taking his glasses off and tucking them into the breast pocket on his jacket. “This is my son, Keegan.”

“Nice to meet you both.”

“Keegan is a senior in high school and plans on doing premed next year at Princeton.”

“Princeton? Wow.” Hot and smart? Even more unfair. “That’s impressive. I’m applying there too.”

“Oh yeah?” Keegan said.

“Yeah. I’m top of my class at Lake Carmody,” I told him.

“He’s second in his class at St. Joe’s,” Dr. Traylor said with a smile. “You two should talk.”

“Maybe we should,” Keegan said, and held my gaze for a long (possibly admiring?) moment. “Luckily, the number one guy wants to go to Yale for hockey, so . . . Anyway, Princeton’s not a done deal,” he said modestly, then loud-whispered, “My dad just thinks it is.”

“I keep telling him I don’t know why he thinks my pride in his success is an embarrassment,” Dr. Traylor said, snapping on a pair of surgical gloves. “But on to the business at hand. Keegan’s been shadowing me for a few weeks, and we’d like him to sit in on your evaluation. Is that okay with you?”

“Oh. Sure,” I said. “No problem. It’s not even that bad of an injury,” I added, trying to preemptively cover. “But I have a big audition next week, so I just want to make sure it’s okay.”

At least that part wasn’t a lie. And my stomach flip-flopped just thinking about it. The Lafayette School of Dance. Giddy shivers. But right now, I had other things to focus on.

“Well, let’s take a look.” He rolled his stool closer to me. “Why don’t you have a seat on the table and tell us . . . how did you injure the area?”