“No, I just thought I felt… Nothing. Never mind.” Then he blinked and finally pulled me to my feet. “There’s no obvious damage. In fact, you look pretty damn good for someone who just got smashed in the face with a door.”

His hand lingered in my grip until I reluctantly pulled mine back.

“What’s this?” He knelt to pick up a dance shirt that had fallen out of the box and half escaped its plastic wrapper. Then he held it up in front of me, obviously trying to picture me in the skimpy, snug halter top.

“It’s a uniform. I’m a dancer.”

“I could tell by how gracefully you crashed to the floor.” His mischievous grin widened. “You wear this?”

“Yeah. Well, I haven’t worn this one yet, but I will.”

“And you’re going to dance around in it? In front of people?”

“I don’t ‘dance around.’ I perform. It’s a sport. It takes a ton of discipline, and practice, and stamina.”

“That sounds more like football. I thought dance was about grace and beauty, and self-expression through movement.”

I blinked, surprised, and he laughed. “It’s written on the side of your box.”

I glanced at the box on the floor. Beneath the manufacturer’s label, the definition of dance he’d quoted was printed in a pretty, scrolling font.

“So which is it?” He raised his brows in challenge as he watched me with a quiet smile. “A sport or an art?”

“It’s both. An athletic art.” Although, at the competitive high school level, it was usually just a bunch of choreographed jumping around and gyrating to recorded music. “You have to have perfect control over your body in order to make it say what you want to express.”

“So, you’re saying that you wear this—” he held the top up by one strap, and for the first time, I realized how little material was actually there “—while you express things with your perfectly controlled body? And you have a lot of stamina?” His brows rose suggestively. “I think I’m gonna like this school.” Then he offered me his right hand to shake. “Did I mention my name is Luca Tedesco?”

I shook his hand briefly, and too late, I realized his smile was contagious. “You’re new?” I said, taking the uniform top from him.

“I start next week.”

“Senior?” He was tall. Nicely built. He could be a senior.

“Junior. You?”

“Sophomore. But only for the next couple of months.” Then school would be out for the summer, and I’d return as the first ever junior-year captain of the Eastlake dance team. “So, what were you doing in there?” I asked, glancing past the door that had nearly killed me into the empty history classroombeyond.

“Looking for a little excitement.”

“Did you find it?”

“I have now.” He looked right into my eyes again, and again I wondered what he was looking for. “I feel bad about nearly killing you with a door. Let me make it up to you? I could carry this box full of hard-core sports attire…wherever you’re taking it.”

“No, that’s okay.” Like I was gonna let the pretty new boy anywhere near Peyton before I’d had a chance to thoroughly stake my claim.

“Since I’m the one who gave you this bump…” He brushed hair back from my forehead, and I winced when his fingers touched a tender spot just above my temple. “I think you should let me do the heavy lifting, until you’re fully recovered.”

Well, if you insist… My afternoon was looking better already.

I smiled at him. “I’m still a little dizzy. Who knows how long that could take?”

“I’ll clear my schedule.” He replaced the shirt that had fallen out and picked up the box. “Which way?”

“Take the next right, and head straight for the double doors.”

We were almost to the hallway junction when Luca stopped in the middle of the floor. His eyes narrowed at nothing, then closed entirely, and when they opened, he looked…cautious. Like he’d seen something or heard something weird. Or like he’d felt a draft. But all I could hear were some locker door squeals and muted voices from around the corner, and I couldn’t see anything but an empty stretch of hall in front of us. And there was no breeze.

“Yeah. Let’s go this way.” He took my arm and started to turn back the way we’d come.

I pulled loose from his grip. “The gym’s that way.”

“Is there another route?” He frowned at the intersection behind me, and I turned to look again, but there was nothing there—just the junction of two hallways, with a set of restrooms on opposite corners.

“Only if we go around the whole building. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Luca fell into step beside me again, reluctantly this time, and I took a critical sideways glance at him. He was beyond gorgeous. But Eastlake High was full of pretty people who acted like total freaks. I blame the local water supply. Which was why I drank bottled water.

Still, Luca was new, and he was hot, and he was the first guy who’d looked at me with something more interesting than pity in his eyes since my mom died and my boyfriend was committed to a mental institution. If the universe was finally throwing me a bone—and let’s be honest, it owed me the whole damn skeleton, after the year I’d had—I wasn’t going to throw it back without at least taking a good look at the offering.