The other kids are whispering to each other and snickering, and I so want to yell at them to shut up, but instead, I lift my palm in warning when the blond girl looks at me, and she shushes the others. Tony, thankfully, isn’t looking at them. His head is tipped down slightly and his eyes are closed. When he finishes, he opens them and goes back to his chair and sits as if he didn’t just rock my world.
“That was amazing, Tony,” I tell him and Rapper Boy snickers again. I look at the group. “How many of you are in junior high?”
The three Taylor Swift girls raise their hands.
“Excellent. And high school?”
The others either raise their hands or, in Tony’s case, I get a shrug and a glance.
“Are you guys involved in music programs at your schools?”
I get a few mumbled yeahs.
“Great. Most schools still have at least a choral program, and many have drama, so if you wanted to do musicals, that’s a good place to start,” I say, looking straight at Tony. “There are also community drama programs outside of school.”
That catches Tony’s interest and he glances up at me, but then drops his gaze again when he sees me looking.
“If you’re thinking you want a career in music, there are lots of options,” I continue. “You could always try to find a job teaching music, or if you wanted to sing in the theater, there’s Broadway here, but there are also theater communities all over the country if you wanted to live somewhere other than New York. There are a hundred ways to make music a part of your life. You can write music or perform it, you can sing in open mics, community groups, or churches,” I say, gesturing out the window at the gym . . . not that this is a church, really. “Or you can . . .” but I trail off as my eyes catch on Alessandro again, in the ring. He’s sparring with Alex and the sheen of sweat over his chest and abs, the ripple of his taut muscles, the way he moves . . . it’s just so . . . yummy. “ . . . you can sing in the subway,” I mutter mindlessly.
There’s a snicker. I pull my eyes away from Alessandro and find the group grinning at me. I clear my throat. “So . . . how many of you think you might want a career in music?”
All four girls raise their hands while Rapper Boy sneers and jabs his sister and Tony fidgets in his chair. He glances up at me and I give him a tiny nod.
“If you guys want to choose another song, go for it,” I tell them, and the three girls leap out of their seats and pounce on the machine. For the next hour, I listen and give whatever pointers I picked up while training for Idol. I can’t help my eyes flicking toward Alessandro, though, and something kicks in my gut when I see Marie standing at the side of the ring, watching. The dance girls in their tights and leotards are starting to set up the half court, carrying the dance bar onto the court from against the wall. Alessandro and Alex finish up in the ring and Alessandro pulls off his headgear and gloves, then towels off all that sweat that I really wanted to lick. Once his shirt is on, he combs a hand through his gorgeous hair and ducks between the ropes to where Marie is waiting. She presses up onto her tiptoes, and he smiles as he leans down and kisses her.
Chapter Thirty
IT’S ONLY A peck on the cheek, but it makes me want to do things to her, even though Alessandro insists they were never serious, and he broke it off with her the first night we were together. They talk for a few minutes, then Alessandro says something with a gesture at the window of my room. They both turn to look, and that’s when I realize I’m standing with my palms pressed against the glass, watching, as if I’m trapped in some giant terrarium or something.
I spin quickly away as Rapper Boy finishes whatever it was that he was doing and force myself to relax. Just because they dated doesn’t mean there’s anything between them still. And, as I think it, a wave of calm hits me and I realize I trust him. I trust Alessandro. I trusted him once before and he broke my heart. Even though I think I’ve always known it wasn’t his fault, I’ve still blamed him. But I don’t anymore. I’ve forgiven him.
“Great. That was great,” I tell Rapper Boy. I swallow and look at Tony. “Are you going to take another turn?”
He shakes his head without looking up.
“Okay.” My eyes scan the group. “Well, thanks for coming, I guess. I hope you guys had fun.”
“Are you going to do this again?” the blond girl asks.
I shrug. “If Alessandro sets it up.”
“Alessandro?” the Latina girl asks.
“Padre,” I say, glancing out to where he’s working with the boys at the free weights.
The three girls bolt out the door to where he is, while the brother-sister leave without a word.
“Tony. Hold up,” I say as he slouches past. “Have you seen Les Misérables?”
“My grandma has the DVD,” he says, looking at the floor between us and shoving his hands in his pockets.
“You like it?”
He just stares at the floor and nods.
“I wasn’t joking,” I tell him. “Your voice is amazing. Have you taken lessons?”
He shakes his head.
“Have you done any plays or acting? At school, maybe?”
He shakes his head again.
“You should. I could help you find a community theater group if that’s something you want to try.”
“How much does it cost?” he asks, finally opening his mouth.
“It depends. Most of them are free to participate in, but if there was a costume fee or something, maybe the church could help you. I’ll talk to Padre.”
“Okay,” he says and I feel suddenly hopeful. He’s so shy that the stage thing might be hard for him. But it might also really help him—draw him out of his shell and make him see how good he really is.
He hangs his head and shuffles out through the side door he came through as Christian catcalls him again from the free weighs.
I scowl at Christian and he smirks back as I make my way to Alessandro.
“You have a fan club,” he says with a glance at the three girls, who are skirting the half court past the dance class that’s just starting.
I feel my face scrunch. “Really? They didn’t seem to like me much.”
He smiles. “They’re demanding that you come back.”
“What do you know about Tony?” I ask.
“I’m glad he came. He’s a really good kid, but he lives with his grandparents. They do what they can for him but they don’t have a lot of money.”
“He’s got an amazing voice. He needs to do something with it. I want to help him find a community theater company.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” For a second he looks like he wants to kiss me, and I lean in just a little, but then he loops his towel around his neck. “I just have some scheduling I need to work out for next week and then I’m finished here. Are you free this afternoon?”
“Yeah. We’re dark tonight.” It’s a little bit of a stretch. We haven’t officially opened yet, so “dark” just means we don’t have rehearsal, but a little rush zings through me at being able to say that. We’re dark tonight. We. As in: me and the rest of the cast. Our director is a hard-ass, but in a good way. She expects perfection. Preview performances start next week and she’s been riding us pretty hard, but tonight, we’re off.
I step closer to Alessandro and . . . mmm. The smell of his sweat is making things happen between my legs. I want to lick him in the worse possible way.
“Hilary,” he warns, his voice low.
I open my eyes—I didn’t realize I’d closed them—and I’m inches from the crook of his neck. I inhale his scent deeply, then back away. “So . . . were you wanting to do something?” Me, please. Say you want to do me. “This afternoon?”