“How could he hide this from me, though?”
Natasha chewed the inside of her cheek. “Did you ask him?”
“No. I didn’t want to talk right before we did our contemporary. I needed to have my head in the game so I didn’t fall during the aerial routine.”
“Which looked fucking awesome, by the way.”
“Didn’t it?” Gina leaned back, stretching her feet out in front of her. “We worked so hard on it.”
“And you got a great score. I’ll eat my toe shoes if you don’t get a perfect score for your next one.”
Gina grabbed Natasha’s hand and squeezed tight. “I’m glad you’ll be there with me.”
“To watch Stone strip? I’d do it for free. Hell, I might even bring some singles with me to tuck in his little shorts.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Or some twenties. Think we could get him to do a repeat performance backstage?”
“Not a chance. I had to fight with him to get him to agree to the number in the first place.” She grinned. “We might have practiced some stripping moves in his hotel room.”
“You are a lucky, lucky girl.”
Gina fell quiet. Sitting and chatting with Natasha made her feel normal, like the events of the night—like that goddamned footage—hadn’t happened. But it had. Everyone had seen it. It wasa good thing her phone was still in the Sparkle Parlor, because her mother and sister had likely sent a bajillion texts.
“I thought I was.”
“You still are.” Natasha got to her feet and pulled Gina out of the chair. “Stop moping. The show must go on. After the second dance, you chew him out. Let him grovel. Then you have excellent make-up sex and get ready for the finals. I’m going out with Jackson again, so I’ll be home late.” She winked.
Gina smiled, but betrayal weighed her down, made her limbs feel like cement.
Donna had known how she felt, and the bitch had gone and put the footage in anyway.
But Stone had known, too. And he hadn’t told her.
Angry as she was, Gina was still excited for their combo dance, which combined Latin, jazz, and breakdancing moves. It was the most fun Gina had ever had choreographing something forThe Dance Off,and with Stone’s breakdancing skills, she was pleased with the results.
He’d fought her on it, of course. The guy looked like he’d been sculpted by Michelangelo—better, actually—but he was modest as a schoolmarm. Even if the judges didn’t love it, Gina was betting the fans would.
It was the last chance for America to vote. Next week, a winner would be crowned. Everything they did tonight would determine how many votes they got, so they were pulling out all the stops.
The finals were in reach. It was killing her to know their fate was already sealed, and they just didn’t know it yet. Tonight, two couples would be sent home, but they wouldn’t know who until the elimination at the end of the episode. In the finals, three couples would compete for the trophy.
And everyone who was left in the competition—Alan Thomas, Farrah Zane, Jackson García, and Lauren D’Angelo—could be a contender for the top spot.
Not worth thinking about. If ever there were a time to stay present, to live for the moment, it was now. Gina had no idea what repercussions the night would have on her career. She was angry, but she was also so close to the end of this ride.
Finally, it was time for her and Stone to take the floor. The behind-the-scenes package showed them arguing about Stone stripping during the dance.
His incredulous tone rang out through the ballroom. “You want me tostrip?”
“It’s called boylesque. Like burlesque, but with dudes.”
“I don’t care what it’s called. I’ll look ridiculous.”
“Oh, come on. Please?” Her entreaties were interspersed by fits of uncontrollable giggling. “Do it for the fans!”
It hurt to watch it now, to hear herself so happy and carefree. The whole time, he’d known what was coming, and he’d kept it from her.
The lights came down. They took their places.
A stage had been set up in the middle of the ballroom, a long, rectangular platform that looked like a catwalk. Gina stood at the end, with other dancers lining the sides. When the music started, she did her moves, mugging for the camera. Then it panned away, and Stone hit the runway.
