So You Think You Can Dance?

Fuego

So, here we are ... starting a new story. I'm dreaming that it's summer time and the favorite thing about summer time, besides the longer days and warmer weather is the return of my favorite show, So You Think You Can Dance? I love it ... the beauty, artistry and athleticism is amazing. Plus, the music they play? Damn ... makes me happy.

We're starting with a new POV and then going back to Bella and Edward. I hope you like what I have planned.

Chapter Thirteen: Fuego

AlicePOV

"I paid for your hotel room. What more do you want?" I hissed into my phone. This woman was getting on my last fucking nerve, but we both needed each other, unfortunately.

"You know what I want, Alice. It's the same thing you want," she snapped. "To remove her from the competition. She's still in it. What the hell?"

"Look, she's like a freaking Weeble. She just doesn't stay down," I sighed, tugging at my ponytail. "She's a determined evil bitch, I'll give her that. Why do you want her out so badly?"

"Because she owes me," she sneered. "And I want her to feel the pain that I did. She took everything from me."

"Wouldn't you think her winning would mean that she could pay you back?" I suggested. Not that I wanted her to win. That was my job. I wanted to win. I deserved to win.

"No. As much as I'd like the money, I'd be happier with her being in constant, nagging pain, or permanently disfigured," she snickered evilly. "Now, what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm working on it. I'm nowhere near her in this week's group numbers," I sighed. "I could pull a Showgirls stunt and toss a marble underneath her shoe."

"Too obvious," she grumbled. "Make it happen, Alice. Soon."

She hung up the phone without waiting for me to respond. I glowered at my cell, angry at her. Granted, I had gotten into bed with her when I called her during that first week of competition. We both had something in common: our mutual hatred of little miss-goody-two shoes, Isabella Swan. America's fucking sweetheart. Everyone loved her. Everyone.

The audience.

Fucking America who's voting for her gimpy ass.

Our competitors.

The fucking judges.

Edward fucking Cullen – ugh, figures he'd go for her. She's probably a fucking virgin, pure as the driven snow.

All of them loved her. Everyone but me. I fucking hated her. She could do no wrong, but by merely breathing, she was my biggest competition and I was taking her down, no matter the costs.

"Alice, who were you talking to?" asked Jasper, ambling toward me. I stuffed my cell phone into my pocket, smiling sweetly at him.

"My mother," I replied, lying through my teeth. "She was asking about coming out to see me. They were supposed to come this week, but my Daddy had a business meeting that he couldn't get out of. Are you done for the day?"

"We have another guy's rehearsal. We're struggling with the leap," Jasper said, sitting down next to me. He was very sweet and handsome, in a dorky sort of way. Granted, I was only acting flirty with him so I could appear to have a heart. I really didn't have one. I was a bitch. I'm not going to lie. I was only in the competition so I could win. I wanted to show the world the beauty and fire of Latin ballroom dancing. I was fucking amazing. I was proud of my talent and I wanted to show off.