“Yes, Coach,” is said in unison.

“Okay.” She rolls her wrist. “Three laps around and then fall in.”

After our quick warm-up, we run through our routine twice and then there’s a hard knock on the gym door.

Miranda smirks, skipping backward toward the door. “Did I mention they’d be here today?”

My eyes widen and I glance around the room.

Most of us are in tiny booty shorts and tanks or a sports bra. Since this is only practice and not an actual class, we can get away with that.

The boys, though, they have zero period weight training, so they’re on the clock right now. Still, when she opens the door and shakes the coach’s hand, half the guys are shirtless, the rest sleeveless.

Thompson and Trent walk in first, Alex and a few others behind them, followed by more of their teammates.

Trent nods in hello, so I wave, my eyes shifting along the line and catching Alex’s. He grins, then looks around at the girls.

Where’s Nico?

This makes three days now he hasn’t shown up to school.

“Okay,” Miranda starts. “Boys, solid straight line across the wall, shortest to tallest. I’m gonna place some girls in front of you and check height so I can get a good idea of what will and won’t work for entrances. I know you normally just walk out with the girls while your stats are read over the speaker, but this year we’re involving you a little more for fun.”

She has us do the same once they’re placed in order.

I’m shuffled around a few times, and in the end, placed in front of Thompson who is at least six-five and has been since freshman year.

He throws his arms over my shoulder. “Wassup, Demi?”

“Not much. Did you guys know we were pairing?” I glance at Trent who is a few bodies away.

He shakes his head no as Thompson says it.

“We’ve got a couple bodies not here, Miranda, just so you know,” Coach Park tells her. “I can send you their height if you wanna preplan in just a bit.”

“That would be helpful, thanks,” she says, moving girls around at the beginning of the line. I’m moved one more time, now placed in front of Carlos, the defensive end.

Miranda steps back, nodding slowly. “I think this—”

She’s cut off when the gym door slams shut and all eyes fly in that direction.

Nico walks in wearing joggers and a hoodie pulled over his head.

He pauses by his coach a moment, saying something no one else can hear. The coach slaps him on the shoulder, pushing him our way.

“Miranda,” Nico mumbles as he walks by, not looking at her.

“I need to pair you, Nico,” she says sternly.

He ignores her, stopping in front of me, and his eyes narrow before shifting to Carlos.

There’s a light shuffle, and then Nico slips in, his chest pushing against my back in the next second.

I inhale, slightly annoyed he thinks he can walk in here and take control, especially after no word for three days.

My eyes move back to Miranda.

She won’t allow him to mess up the flow or visual of the performance, even if he does think he’s privileged.

Nico pushes even closer. “I’m paired.”

I tense, waiting for her to set him straight as she would us, but Miranda only frowns, staring a moment longer before she snaps out of it and places one of the JV girls with Carlos. “Let me grab my phone so I can go over this later to be sure, but it’s looking good.”

When she comes back, she starts taking pictures, moving a few people over with each shot until she’s happy with what she sees.

“Okay boys, when I say one, place your hands on your partner’s upper ribs here.” She indicates to a few inches below our breasts, continuing to show them what she means as she says, “On two, slide them down to the hips, on three, hold, and on four, she will jump as you lift. On five, her feet should be on the ground, your hands at your sides. Girls, by six, I want you laid out.

“This is just a quick, off the top try and not necessarily what we’ll be doing for the routine. I want to see how clean it looks height-wise.” She repeats the counts and moves once more, then pulls her phone back out, clipping it to the tripod. “Go ahead and grab on now.”

Heavy, strong hands plant on my ribs, and I straighten my spine, getting ready. When I do, his hands slide up, now brushing against the edge of my sports bra.

I glare straight ahead. If he still wants to keep this fakeness up, he needs to understand that it doesn’t come before or between dance, and that what my coach says goes. Yes, this is only my school team and not my competition team, but still. I’m on the front line for a reason and his power trip isn’t getting in the way of the gold stamp that this puts on my college applications.

“Demi,” Miranda barks and my head jerks her way. “Sass, not anger.”

I clear my throat, quickly putting my game face on.

I don’t miss Nico’s chuckle.

Considering Miranda left him with me, I guess she agrees with our pairing.

Miranda pushes play on the recording. “We’re already at one, but I’ll repeat it for the sake of the steps.”

She continues to count, and in what seems like slow motion, Nico slides his hands down my ribs, fingers spreading out at my hips. Mine come up to cover his as I jump a foot into the air. The second my feet hit the floor, I nudge him off as he forgets to let go.

In the next second, all of us girls are dropping into a left split, and the guys start freaking out, completely losing their cool with whoops and oh damns making us laugh.

We push to our feet as a laughing Miranda turns to the grinning coach. “Maybe I should have explained what they were about to do.”

He laughs lightly, then heads for the door. “Give them five minutes to change at the end, but they’re all yours for now. Can’t give them to you this week but starting next you can have them for twenty minutes, twice a week and in the morning only. Boys, this means I get twenty extra after school, so plan for it.”

“Yes, Coach,” is shouted by the guys.

He nods and walks out.

Miranda’s tense gaze comes back to me. “Demi,” she calls on me as I’m the front liner. “Keep steps one through three and give us the last seven.”

I nod and take a few steps forward. I lift my arms, assuming Nico will understand to place his hands back on me, but when no movement follows, I glance over my shoulder to find Nico glaring at my bloomers.

I snap my fingers, and a few others chuckle as that glare cuts up to mine.

He looks around, realizing everyone is watching the two of us, then he steps out. “What?”

I roll my eyes. “Do what you just did, but leave your hands loose on my hips, so I can move them while adding steps.”

He doesn’t hesitate, scooting in so close his sweats are rubbing against my ass.

I ignore the thickness of him brushing against me and start counting.

Nico’s hands go from my ribs to my waist, and hold.

“Five.” I spin to face him, gripping his hoodie mid stomach. “Six.” I drop down, my legs butterflied, face at his crotch. “Seven.” I’m back in his face, chest to chest. “Eight.” I push off of him, and just like I knew he would, he creeps back in with a frown. I smile. “Nine.” His brows knit. I grip his hand and spin out, both of us now facing forward, our elbows bent, hands up. “Ten.”