“Hey, Alina,” Jude called, walking over with his toothy, carefree smile, like I hadn’t flipped him off the other day. Which… all right. If he was going to give me a pass, I wasn’t going to bring it up.

“Partners, stand facing each other, two feet apart,” Ms. Langford directed. “Look into each other’s eyes. Connect.”

Extended eye contact was never not awkward, but I was used to it from partnering class. I liked being clinical about it. Eye color. Eyelash situation. That sort of thing. Jude had full, dark eyelashes that gave the impression of eyeliner. His eyes were a rich hazel. Little creases were forming in the outer corners from the slow smile spreading on his lips.

Somehow, we were doing the best out of everyone at this part.

Ethan and Diya were standing way more than two feet apart, and it sounded like they were trying to sigh and scoff each other into oblivion. Laurel kept breaking into giggles while Harrison kept saying “What?” I broke eye contact for a moment to glance at Laurel, remembering Josie’s bonkers plan for me to dazzle her and Noah with my classical dance training so they’d consider being in her piece for the student showcase.

Even if that plan made any sense, I learned that I wasn’t going to be doing any impressive classical moves at the callback. The routine Ms. Langford taught us was shockingly simple. All I had to do was slide Jude’s prop glasses off, circle around him, twirl the glasses while doing a high-kneed sexy walk, blow on the lenses, and then rub them kind of scandalously on my thigh. Ms. Langford said she was looking for style rather than technique at this point.

“Cyd Charisse contained wonderful oppositions,” Ms. Langford said, her orange curls bouncing as she gestured with her hands. “She was sensual but refined. Serene but explosive. Fred Astaire once called her ‘beautiful dynamite.’ That’s what I’m looking for today.”

As we ran through the combination, Ms. Langford shouted things like “Smolder!” and “Beautiful dynamite!” But it was hard to make adjustments to my dancing when I didn’t know what part of my body to adjust. In class, Kira used to yell specifics: “Shoulders down!” “Point your feet!” “Turn out from the hips!” Plus, it was hard to “smolder” after spending the whole day at Eagle View, sitting in uncomfortable chairs, getting a permanent crease in my forehead from trigonometry, and eating something called chicken shoestrings for lunch. Double plus, I kept almost poking Jude’s eye out with the stupid glasses.

“This isn’t a common ballet move, I assume?” he asked, rubbing his eye.