Crave (Harlequin Teen)

the jam box I was checking the batteries on.
    He must have heard us talking about him, because he came over and squatted beside me so close our knees bumped.
    “Have fun,” Keisha murmured. I tried to ignore the now familiar pain at seeing her join the dancers instead of working with me.
    “ Miss Savannah?” he asked after she left.
    “We all call each other ‘Miss,’ then the person’s first name, except for the director. It’s a team rule to help us remember to always show each other respect.”
    “And you have to do that all the time, or…?”
    “No, just during team time. Though sometimes we forget and do it in the halls and stuff, too.” I dug through my bag for the clipboard and legal pad I used to take team notes on each day. “You’ll need to follow it, too, if you stick around.”
    He gave me a wolfish grin. “Oh, I definitely plan to stick around.”
    Yep, he was already checking out the Charmer buffet.
    “You close with a lot of the team?” He jerked his head in Keisha’s direction where she stood talking with Vicki now. They didn’t try to hide the fact that they were talking about Tristan. I just hoped they weren’t including me in the conversation, because I so had nothing to do with this.
    I shrugged. “Most treat me like a stand-in mom or something. They know they can come to me if they need something or someone to talk to. But Keisha and I are closer than most. She’s a manager, or she was till she became an alternate dancer for the season.”
    I felt him staring at me, though I tried to ignore that sensation, as well.
    “Is that hard, seeing her dancing with the team while you do all the work behind the scenes?”
    I looked at him now, wondering if he was trying to be mean. But his eyes were wide with innocence and something else…like he actually wanted to know the answer.
    “A little. But I’m really proud of her, too.” I was lying, of course. It was more than a little tough. But I was keeping my promise to the vampire council. No more dancing. And Keisha was a good dancer and worked hard as an alternate. She and Vicki both deserved to get to dance with the Charmers.
    After a long, uncomfortable minute, he said, “So, what are we doing here?”
    Grateful for the change in subject, I explained how to work the sound system, showing him the MegaVox’s two headsets with microphones, one for the jam box and one for Mrs. Daniels to wear so she could call out directions to the team from the bleachers.
    Meanwhile, Mrs. Daniels and the rest of the Charmers arrived. The director chatted with her dancers for a couple minutes then climbed into her usual spot at the top row of the metal bleachers.
    As soon as Mrs. Daniels was seated, I stood up. The director liked me to hurry and get to her for our pre-practice meetings. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Try to save the flirting for after practice, or you’ll tick off Mrs. Daniels.”
    He grinned up at me. “Good to know. I’ll try to contain myself.”
    He’d probably make a beeline for the nearest Charmer as soon as I walked away. No telling how many of them were his exs. And how many more were soon to be.
     
    The week passed smoother than I’d hoped for, though everything Tristan did seemed to have both advantages and disadvantages. He asked to be in charge of fetching the ice bags toward the end of each practice. Probably so he could play knight in shining armor for the injured dancers. But at least neither I nor my loaner managers had to deal with Dylan in the field house for a few days.
    Tristan also liked to stand close to me and watch my every move while I wrapped strained knees, ankles and shin splints at the end of each practice. Either he enjoyed how the girls blushed from his nearness, me included, or he was gunning for my job. At least he was helpful, handing me things from my trainer bag when I requested them, though his fingers managed to brush mine every single time. I was starting to get used to wearing goose bumps from head to toe now.
    Unfortunately, the temporary managers still hadn’t completely settled down around him, which was becoming a problem. The two freshmen giggled and whispered a lot more now, which grated on my nerves. So I had to keep finding more things for them to do. The charming smiles he occasionally sent their way didn’t help, either.
    By Thursday afternoon, I had to pull him aside. “Could you please stop smiling at my loaners?”
    “Uh, your who?”
    I jerked my head in the