After flying overseas to enroll in a prestigious boarding school, Blake Graham assumes that she can finally catch a break.
Instead, she encounters the boy who she fought with almost every day as a child.
After moving back to England, then over to...
"I know what it means, but why are you asking me?" He gave me an 'are you stupid' look.
"Well you knowing how to waltz will make or break the whole ball."
"...Why?"
"Because you idiot, we have to dance during the ball! And if you can't dance, then I can't dance and we'll both look like idiots!"
"You can't waltz?"
"Yes! That's the problem!"
He sighed, "So how will we solve this problem?"
"I'm gonna reserve one of the dance studios at the academy. After school and during our free periods and maybe even lunches depending on how dreadful this is, we'll have to practice. So do you know how to waltz?"
"Jesus Graham. Yes, I know how to waltz. But everyday?"
"Unless you want to leave the cotillion with seven toes, I recommend practice."
"Toes? Don't tell me you're on of those dancers."
"I don't try! It's just my timing when taking a step forward sucks!"
"Oh my god..." Clark muttered under his breath.
"It'll be all good hopefully. We just need to practice."
"Practice my arse."
I gave it a second, thinking about it. If we were diligent with practice, we wouldn't make the whole ball a flop. "We can do it."
"Let's hope so Graham."
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It was dark. I had woken up to the cabin being pitch dark, with only small overhead lights above us. I peeked out the small window to see dark wispy clouds under us. Checking the monitor, it showed that we were close to landing. It was apparently three-ish in the morning in Neuchâtel time, and we had like thirty minutes left. We had left New York at nine in the morning, and we have been on the plane for like twelve hours.
I've always hated sleeping on planes. Clark apparently, didn't mind. He was fully sprawled on the row of cushioned armchairs, his head on top of a pillow on the armrest. He looked so angelic and boyish, nothing like the raging asshole he could be. He had gotten better about being a bitch, and it seemed like we didn't fight but just... debate.
As I more or less stared at Clark, the fasten your seatbelt sign pinged. We were beginning to descend. I stood up, deciding to be a good... friend, and wake Clark up.
I walked over to his sleeping figure, and shook him lightly. "Ellington!" I whisper-shouted.
He didn't even stir. I tried again. "Ellington!"
Nada. I moved towards his face and kneeled, so that I was face to face with him. I poked his cheek softly. "Ellington! Clark! Wake up!"
"What?" He grumbled softly, green eyes flickering open.
