Kissing the Debutant

Can a ballerina and an amateur put aside their differences for the sake of dance?

A ballerina only wants to dance…

Lillian Preston has always known who she is, a debutant. The daughter of a famed prima ballerina, she is destined to follow in her mother’s footsteps. While attending the prestigious Defiance Academy, ballet is her life until a mishap with a choreographer leaves her without a routine weeks before a competition that could shape her future. 

An amateur wants to prove his worth…

Jack Butler loves his family, but he also wants more. A chance to live his dreams. A chance to dance. As an employee at his cousin’s studio, he sees dancers come and go, but he’s never seen anything like Lillian Preston. She is everything he isn’t allowed to want, but the one thing he wants? To dance with her.

A Deal is made…

A school project forces Jack to share his passion for dance as he choregraphs steps for the entire class to see, but he needs a partner. There’s only one girl who can fill that role, one in desperate need of a choreographer. Lillian might hate him, but if she wants to win, she’ll need his help. She agrees to dance for his video, but as they work together, Jack realizes there is so much more to Lillian Preston than ballet. And he’s going to prove it to her.

A sweet stand-alone high school romance.

Ballet was a language completely foreign to the average observer, but Lillian Preston understood little else. 

Arabesque, battement, echappé… these words made sense to her, they had meaning. 

Friendships, motherly affection, love… not so much. 

“Keep going,” Lillian’s dance teacher, Katrina, called from the front of the room. “I don’t want to see those heels touch the ground. Turn, use the strength of those calves.” 

Around Lillian, kids her age whined about the pain. They groaned and grunted, not recognizing how this would make them better. She understood. It was why she couldn’t stop. 

Lillian Preston had to be the best. 

If she wasn’t the best,  then who was she? 

She dipped down toward the floor, brushing her fingertips against the pale wood while her left leg stretched out behind her, turned out, as she balanced on the ball of her right foot, also perfectly turned out.

None of this was hard if you put in the work. She didn’t understand why her classmates couldn’t see that, why they didn’t just quit if they weren’t good enough. Lillian had never met a task she couldn’t accomplish, a skill she couldn’t master with enough practice. 

Whether it was bounding across the private dance studio at her home in Lexington, Kentucky or even the schoolwork at her exclusive boarding school in Southern Ohio, she never quit, never let good be good enough. 

Katrina clapped her hands. “Okay, we’re done for today. I’ll see you all on Wednesday.” 

Lillian lowered her leg and straightened as the rest of the class filed out. Most of them were friends. They’d been in the same dance classes since they were kids. When Lillian started at Defiance Academy three years ago, she didn’t know it would mark her in this town, that they’d make assumptions based on the school she attended. Private school kids didn’t belong outside their high walls, a fact the public school kids at the dance studio never let her forget.  

Riverpass, Ohio was connected to the town of Twin Rivers, but the only similarity was their proximity to Defiance Falls and the rivers that converged there. 

Twin Rivers was what Lillian expected most towns in the US to resemble. There were middle-class families, and white collar and blue-collar families. Their kids attended the local public schools. 

But Riverpass… highlighted by the stone walls of Defiance Academy, it had become a beacon of elitism and privilege. Even those benefiting from the designation could see that. 

Famous people, diplomats, and the extraordinarily wealthy sent their kids to the academy to keep them safe. 

Which was why Lillian needed to return to campus before her gate pass expired. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to go back. Students weren’t allowed to leave campus except in special circumstances—like if their mother threatened the school to allow her daughter to attend dance classes Defiance Academy didn’t offer. No one crossed Daria Preston and got away with it. 

“Lillian.” Katrina crossed the room, a kind smile on her face. The young dance teacher was the only person in this class who bothered to speak to Lillian like she was one of them and not some alien sent from the land of disgusting wealth. 

“Hello.” Lillian busied herself rummaging through her bag for her water bottle. “Did you need something?”

Katrina’s smile widened like it always did when she thought Lillian was amusing, like something in a zoo. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Lillian sighed. It was exhausting having someone care about her. She wasn’t used to it. But maybe she owed Katrina something, some bit of knowledge that Lillian appreciated her. “I went to the orientation.” 

Yep, that would do it.

Katrina’s eyes lit up. “For the Northeast Regional Scholarship for the Dramatic Arts? Lillian, that’s wonderful.”

Her mother wouldn’t find it wonderful, not during debutant season. Lillian shrugged. “I still don’t know if I’ll have time.”

“You can make time. It’s for a college scholarship. This competition is a big deal.”

“I don’t need a scholarship.” It was partially true. She could go to any college she wished. Her mother had connections through her social life in Lexington to most major Ivies. And money was never an issue. But if Lillian wanted to go to college, she’d have to talk her mother into it. Daria Preston had a one-track mind when it came to her daughter’s future, and that future was with the American Ballet Company in New York City. Anything less equaled failure in her mother’s eyes. 

And if she didn’t convince her mom? A scholarship would be pretty darn essential. But she knew how people would view a girl like her saying she wanted a scholarship.

Katrina gave her a look full of pity. “Competitions are about more than money, Lillian.” 

She remembered everything Katrina had told her before. Competitions were about inner strength just as much as outside validation. Confidence and self-worth. All of which Katrina obviously thought Lillian lacked. “I know I’m good.” She dropped her water bottle back into her bag. “I don’t need other people telling me it’s so.” 

Katrina put a hand on her shoulder, and Lillian fought the urge to shrug her off. She wasn’t a touchy-feely person, probably because she couldn’t remember the last time her mom even hugged her. “You are a brilliant dancer, Lillian. The best student I have ever had. I won’t pretend to think I have anything to teach you about ballet, but maybe it isn’t confidence you need, but something else.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you’ll learn the answer to that question until you step outside your comfort zone, and this competition could provide you with that opportunity.”

Lillian stepped away from Katrina. “Well, I’ve signed the paperwork, so we’ll see. Now I just need to find a choreographer.” 

Katrina clapped her hands together in excitement. “I’ll send your mother some recommendations, though I’m sure she knows a few herself. Anything you need, just ask, okay? I’m going to head out, but you can use the studio until the janitor has to lock up.”

Katrina left her to the empty room, and Lillian could finally breathe. She wasn’t like everyone else—like her mother—social interactions exhausted Lillian. All she wanted was a dance studio and blissful silence. 

Rubbing her hands down the muscles of her bare legs, she warmed them up before pulling a pair of leggings from her bag and yanking them on. In class, she looked the part of the perfect prima ballerina with her tight bun and expensive leotard. 

But here, on her own, she could loosen up. 

She could play. 

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she relaxed her legs, trying to shake off any lingering weariness from the class. Her eyes skittered to her bag in the corner where the gate pass sat in the side pocket. She looked to the clock above the door. Six PM. She had half an hour before she was late. 

The question was… did she care? 

Not when it came to dance. She bent to where her phone rested on the front desk and turned on Spotify. Her favorite playlist started up through the Bluetooth speakers, and she launched into a series of turns, each one quicker than the one before. 

One. Two. Three. Four. 

Her eyes fixed on a divot in the wall, each time coming back to it to keep from getting dizzy. The music picked up, and so did her dance. Spins were easy. She’d been doing them since she could walk. 

Some of the jumps, however…

She ran halfway across the room before leaping into a grand jete, her legs stretching into a split, but she came out of the move a half second too late. She stumbled on her landing and cursed herself. 

Too high. She’d jumped too high. 

Yet, she’d wanted to, to push herself to the limit and see which boundaries could be moved or broken altogether. It was part of who she was. 

“Again,” she muttered to herself. 

This time, she didn’t get the height, but she tried to turn as she jumped and stumbled backward on the landing before falling on her butt. 

She could hear her mom’s voice in her head. If you can’t be extraordinary, it isn’t worth doing. 

And what was Lillian? Ordinary? Average? 

She knew that wasn’t true. Every girl in her class wished they could dance like her, but it still wasn’t enough for her mom. It never was. So she pushed, harder and harder, hoping it wouldn’t break her. 

She kept trying until her legs burned and her lungs cried out for air. 

You’ll never be the dancer I was. 

Yes, her mom had said that to her too. More than once. That was what happened when one was raised by a dance prodigy. Daria Preston was revered once, now she was part of ballet history. 

And she’d never forgiven the world for moving on without her. 

You’ll never live up to the Preston name. 

Those words kept Lillian out of competition after competition. She’d never tried, never let herself fail. If she didn’t try to win, she couldn’t lose, and maybe her mom wouldn’t be disappointed in her. 

Then why this competition? Why now?

She pumped her arms before using all her remaining strength to jump once more. This time, when she landed, her ankle rolled, and she cried out as her leg collapsed beneath her.

There was her answer. All of this could end at any moment. Just ask her mother who’d had to stop dancing after an injury. For once, Lillian wanted to know if she had what it took. 

“Are you okay?” 

At the voice, Lillian jerked her head up, her eyes clashing with those of a boy who looked about her age. He wore tight jeans with a rip in one knee and a black t-shirt. Shaggy brown hair flopped into his eyes. He pushed a steam mop in front of him. 

“Fine.” She scrambled to her feet, testing her ankle. It didn’t hurt when she put weight on it, and she released a breath. 

The boy pushed hair out of his face. “You’re trying too hard.” 

“What?” 

“The jump. I’ve been watching you. You’re trying so hard to make every element perfect that when one small thing is off, it throws the entire jump out of control.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “Sure, and I’m supposed to take dance advice from a janitor?”

He shook his head and pushed the steam cleaner farther into the room. “I need to clean this room. I am just the janitor after all. Are you done here?” 

She crossed her arms. “No.”

“That’s not really my problem then, Princess. Feel free to go finish messing up your dance in one of the practice rooms in the back.” He turned on the cleaner, and the whir filled the room, clashing against the music. 

The noise pounded in Lillian’s skull, and she couldn’t take it. Retrieving her phone, she turned off the music and faced the boy once more. He ignored her as he started cleaning the floors. 

She walked up beside him and yelled over the noise. “How did you know?”

“What?” He looked sideways at her.

“That was I messing up little parts before the landing. How did you know? You’re the janitor.”

He shook his head and ignored the question. 

“My jumps were fine.” She refused to let him tell her they weren’t. Only the landings needed work. “If you knew anything about dance, you’d know that.”

He turned off the steam cleaner and faced her. “You know what, you’re right. I don’t know anything, so ignore my advice. But this janitor has too much cleaning to do before he leaves for the night. You need to leave.”

“Wait… you’re kicking me out?”

“Yes, Princess. I don’t know how they cater to you at that fancy academy of yours, but here in Twin Rivers, you don’t get special treatment just because your mom was a dancer once upon a time.”

“You know who I am?” How? Did everyone know who her mom was? 

He shrugged. “Some of us turn into pumpkins if we’re late getting home, and I really like being human, so can I get back to work?”

“Cinderella doesn’t turn into a pumpkin, she… wait, you’re calling yourself Cinderella? That’s a little strange.”

To her surprise, he laughed. “It was a joke. You know, something us normal people do.” He gestured to the steam cleaner. “May I?”

She studied him for a moment. How did a guy who looked like he belonged on a surfboard or on a couch playing video games in someone’s basement end up working in a dance studio? It wasn’t her business. She walked to her bag, very aware of his eyes on her. Slipping her coat on, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked past him without another word. 

Ordering an Uber on her phone, she lowered herself to the curb to wait, her mind going back to the jumps she’d failed to land. They weren’t complex, but as she’d sailed through the air, her mind never stopped working. Maybe the janitor was right. Maybe she’d tried too hard. 

Or maybe she didn’t have it in her to win this competition after all.