Complete Nothing (True Love #2)(77)

“What?”

I pushed myself up, practically bursting with excitement. “I’ve got it, you guys. I know how I’m going to get Claudia back.”





CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE


True


Peter was a genius. Once I’d heard his plan, I knew for sure that he was in love with Claudia. What I needed now was for her to remember how much she loved him. If only I’d never brought Keegan into this equation. Then there would be nothing standing in Peter’s way.

I sat near the wall of the Studio that evening and watched Claudia’s friend Lance lift her into the air with seemingly no effort, then place her gently on her toes so she could continue her gorgeous, elegant movement across the floor. As soon as they were done rehearsing, I was going to corner Lance and talk him into helping us. Then I’d have done my part. I just wished Keegan would help me out and do his part—start acting like the jerk everyone knew he was deep down.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Lauren asked.

“Absolutely,” I replied.

Dozens of dancers lined the walls around us, sitting with their legs outstretched or curled under them, every one of their pretty faces rapt with attention. The music swelled, a piece by Mozart that I knew very well, and Claudia executed her last set of pirouettes, finishing up in Lance’s arms. The room went wild.

I stood up, hoping to grab Lance on his way to the bathroom or the locker room or wherever he’d go next. Instead the dance teacher, Madame Helene, intercepted him to go over a particular move. She waved Claudia off, and she jogged over to join us, tugging a bottle of water out of her canvas ballet bag.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Amazing as always,” Lauren replied, slapping hands with Claudia.

She took a swig of water, then pulled out her phone. Something on the screen made her freeze. “Oh.”

“What?” Lauren asked.

“Nothing. Just . . . I was texting Keegan between classes about picking me up tonight and he wasn’t getting back to me. . . . But he texted me fifteen minutes ago.”

She showed us the screen.

CAN’T PICK UP 2NITE. SRY.

My lips pursed. No explanation, no promise to call her later. He was blowing her off. Which was, of course, a good thing. In the grand scheme.

“Can I get a ride home?” she asked Lauren.

“Of course.”

Claudia quickly typed in a text, her pale fingers trembling. I leaned right ever so slightly to read over her shoulder.

NO PROB. GOT A RIDE. WHERE WERE U TODAY?

She sat back as she hit send, her posture straight as she leaned her thick bun against the wall behind us.

“So what did you think, True?” she asked, glancing down at her phone.

Nothing. She tapped it against her light-pink tights.

“It was lovely. This is really a great dance school,” I told her. “And you’re a beautiful dancer. I’m sure you’re going to ace that audition on Saturday.”

She gave me a small smile. “Thanks. I’m so nervous about it.”

Her eyes darted to her phone again. Still no response. The silence began to feel awkward, even as the other dancers on the floor started to stretch out and mess around, laughing and making up silly dance moves. Lauren turned her phone over and over and over atop her thigh.

“Do you want to get some food after this?” Lauren asked.

“Um, sure,” Claudia said.

She turned her phone’s screen up and then checked it. Nothing.

“Why isn’t he responding to any of my texts?”

I decided to play devil’s advocate. “He did respond to one. . . .”

“Yeah, but when he knew I was in class. When he knew I wouldn’t be able to text back,” Claudia said.

“Well, maybe he has his phone off,” Lauren suggested.

“Keegan? Never. He needs to be connected twenty-four-seven.”

She looked her phone over like something might be wrong with it, toggling the switch on the side, checking some setting or other.

“Just give him a few minutes,” I said. “He might be in the middle of something.”

“You’re right,” Claudia said. “Sometimes I don’t hear my phone go off when it’s in my bag.”

So we sat there. And waited. And watched the phone. And Madame Helene going through some movements with Lance. And the other dancers. Until eight full minutes had passed and Madame Helene finally clapped her hands for attention and there was still no reply from Keegan Traylor.

“Let’s give Claudia and Lance a break!” Madame announced. “Places for the finale, everyone.”

The other dancers scurried into place along the sides of the room.

“I’m going to go make a call,” Claudia said, already moving toward the door.

Lance walked past me and over to his black vinyl bag in the corner. He pulled out an energy bar and started to eat, perched on the edge of a chair.

“Okay. I’ll be here,” I said to Claudia. But I’m not even sure she heard me. She was already pushing through the door and onto the sidewalk.

“You gonna talk to him?” Lauren asked under her breath.

“Now or never.”

She gave me a conspiratorial smile, then joined her friends on the dance floor. I stood in front of Lance, and his brow knit.