Just One Voice

•Gaining Respect•

~19~

"Where are you taking me?" I confusedly ask as Zachary drags me through the halls of MACC.

We finally stop in front of a wide entryway, "Right here." He presses his lips together, opening the door for me.

I step inside and instantly recognize the large room as a dance studio. One wall is lined with full length mirrors and the other, windows. There are rows of bars, a glossy floor mat and benches encircling the generous space.

Zachary strides over to a black duffel bag and removes a steel water bottle from one of the mesh pockets. He lifts his head and gulps at the liquid, a stray drop trickling down his chin. I too could use some hydration right about now—who knew that keeping up with a determined dancer who's in ridiculous shape would be so tiring? I'm sure that there is a fountain somewhere around here, but I refrain from voicing this question. I'm still beyond puzzled as to why Zachary brought me here, of all places.

He approaches me again, bottle still in hand, "I wanted to talk to you."

"And you had to do that here? The dance studio?"

"Well, one of our dance studios. The only dance studio, in fact, that isn't booked out for the rest of the day."

"I don't follow." I quickly state.

"I'm asking for help."

"From me?" I can't help but breathe out a light, disbelieving laugh, "I'm not a dancer, nor close to. I can't—"

"I don't need a dancer. I need, a miracle, basically."

I cock my head at this, "You're not very good at explaining things, Jacobs."

He nervously runs a hand through his blonde hair, "The midterm choice duet pairing has been decided, I'm with Rylie."

A sudden rush of air escapes my throat, momentarily puffing my cheeks, "She's not going to be happy about that."

"Tell me about it. She hates my guts, and I can't figure out why."

I bite my lip. I sort of know why, but it wouldn't be right for him to hear it from me. It wouldn't mean anything at such an early point as this anyway. Rylie needs to come to terms with her own feelings, and I can't do that for her.

"Besides that," Zachary continues, "this is a big opportunity for both of us, I want to make it work. I figure that you know Rylie, you know what she likes, and you know what will be worth her time. I hear that your smart too."

Who did he hear that from?

"Help me come up with a sick concept for our duet, one that will impress Rylie. One that will help her be a little more open-minded about dancing with me. Like I said, I really really want this to work—and in order for that to happen, she needs to be able to trust me."

I get what he's saying, I really do, and I think it's sweet that he cares so much about gaining Rylie's trust and respect. But I don't know the first thing about dancing. Hell, a flight of stairs is exercise for me and I practically have two left feet. Zachary may have just asked the wrong girl for assistance.

"I don't think I can help—"

"Please, Brooklynn, I'm desperate. I have to prove that I'm not just some rich pretty boy who isn't even going to try."

His use of the word rich snags at my conscience, pulling a few specific strings in my heart. He just had to pull that card didn't he? The thing is, he doesn't even understand how strongly I relate to what he just said.