“Ew,” I respond.

“You have no idea. And hopefully you never will.”

Dinner that night is pretty good: roast veggies and chicken, a big pasta bake, lots of fresh bread and salads and sides, and even a huge sheet cake with the words WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS written in purple frosting. I help myself to a little bit of everything; I don’t think I’ve had so many options in my life.

I’m so engrossed in talking to Tyler as we leave the line that I don’t even realize where Riley has guided us until it’s too late: right next to Branden. He’s sitting at a table with a few other guys, all of them talking about some show they’ve just seen and the cool tricks they want to learn. I nearly drop my tray when I see him. I glare at Riley instead.

“Hey, guys,” she says brightly, ignoring my furious stare. “Mind if we sit here?”

And even though I’m purposely avoiding his eyes, I can feel Branden watching me. “Sure,” he says, and I’m trapped.

We sit down, and the guys all introduce themselves. I’m too busy trying not to shake or drop my tray to catch any of their names, and I’m so absorbed in the task that I don’t even realize when the introductions roll around to me.

“And this is Jennifer,” Riley says, coming to my rescue before I can blab out an apology. “She’s actually a local, and what she lacks in eloquence she makes up for in raw talent.”

I try to grin.

“What she said,” I say.

It’s impossible to actually pay attention to the conversation. My hands won’t stop shaking as I try to eat my chicken, and taking a drink of water is embarrassing at best. Riley notices, I know—her nudge under the table is sign enough. But everyone else is either oblivious or too polite to say anything.

Until Branden stops taking part in the group’s talk of who makes the best shoes for floor work and leans across the table toward me.

“So, what are you auditioning for?”

I nearly choke on my food.

“Flying trapeze,” I say, and I pray it doesn’t sound like the question I feel it is.

“That’s awesome,” he replies. “I live, like, half an hour away. Maybe we could start doing lessons together.”

I glance up at him then, and his brown eyes are so intent on me I could melt under them. But maybe he’s just like Tyler was when I first met him—quick to warm up, easy to show interest. There’s no way this guy is interested in me. I’m definitely not impressive enough for someone like him.

“That would be cool,” I say after too long a pause. I managed to forget that he was probably expecting an answer. In spite of my awkwardness, he smiles.

“How long have you been flying?” he asks.

“I haven’t,” I respond, and I feel my stomach sink into the floor below. “This will be my first time.”

“Exciting,” he says. “Everyone has a first time. And you’ll remember it for as long as you live.”

“What was your first time like?” I ask.

“Magical,” he says. Then he laughs to himself. “And terrifying. I think I nearly passed out.”

I let myself grin, but the knots in my gut just won’t relax. If he was scared of his first leap, how in the world will I be able to manage?

“Well then, I guess you’ll be in for a show tomorrow morning.”

And he smiles, so maybe I’m not as hopeless as I fear I am.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Riley says to my left. “We’ll all be there cheering you on.”

I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.

Chapter

Four

Olga makes an announcement halfway through dinner, saying that we’ll have half an hour after dinner to relax, and then it’s off to team-­building games. She speaks a lot about the importance of building a community in a show this size, how everyone has to be able to depend on everyone else. So she asks us to wear our name tags to the games and introduce ourselves to at least ten different people before sign-in. Then she leaves us to our dessert and goes off to drink coffee with the rest of the coaches.

“Any idea what the games are?” Branden asks us. The other guys have gone from the table, leaving just him and Tyler and Riley and me.

“No clue,” Riley says, “but if it involves teams, I pick you guys.”

“Deal,” Branden says, and Tyler nods in agreement.

Riley opens her mouth to say something, then closes it when our table is breached by the Triplets.

The three blond girls sit down on the side with Branden, making themselves at home. None of them are carrying trays—maybe they ate already—but they each have a mug that I first think is tea, then realize is just hot water and lemon.

“Hi, there,” the oldest girl says, looking straight at Branden when she says it. “I’m Megan.” She holds out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He raises an eyebrow but shakes her hand. “Branden,” he replies.

“I know,” she says. Then she winks at him.

Her sisters introduce themselves as Sara and Olivia, but none of them look at us when they speak. All eyes are on Branden. In fact, they don’t seem to know we exist until Tyler clears his throat and introduces himself.

They practically sneer at him, but he doesn’t back down, and he doesn’t pull back his hand until they shake it. Then he introduces Riley and me.

“Where are you from?” Tyler asks, and I have to commend him for being civil. I kind of want to slap all of them for being so rude.

“Little Rock,” Megan says.

“That’s a really long way to come for just a week,” I say.

Megan looks at me like I’m an idiot, and the urge to slap her comes back with a vengeance.

“No distance is too great to achieve perfection,” she sneers.

Riley coughs, but I know it’s to hide a laugh. It sounds like Megan’s quoting something from an inspirational poster.

Megan turns her glare to Riley, but she gets the hint. She pushes herself from the table and nods to her sisters.

“We’ll see you at the games,” Megan says to Branden, her sweet little smile returning in an instant. Then one more glare at us, and the Triplets leave.

“Wow,” Tyler says when they’re out of earshot. “They really are cyborgs.”

I can’t help it—I snort with laughter. Those three had me so stressed, so insecure with their good looks and confidence, that his joke is like a puncture to a balloon.

Branden chuckles as well, and soon all of us are doubled over with laughter.

When it’s time to leave the cafeteria and head toward the gym for the games, Branden stays by our side. Well, by my side. I can’t help but continually glance over at him while we walk. And I can’t help but notice that he’s doing the same.

•  •  •

Everyone’s assembled in the gym by the time we get there. The mats have all been pushed to the sides, and the aerial equipment is pulled up into the rafters. The local radio station is playing on the sound system—one of the few stations that isn’t country, thankfully—but it’s hard to hear it over the sound of everyone talking. I don’t know if it’s intentional or not, but I find myself standing a little closer to Branden. It’s like there’s a static between us, a pulse pulling me closer into his orbit. We huddle in beside some of the guys from dinner—I’m pretty certain they’re the acrobats, judging from how they were doing flips off one another when we walked in. I don’t miss the way Tyler smiles at one of them, a short, muscular guy with red hair who introduced himself as Kevin earlier on.

“What do you think they’re going to do to us?” Branden asks me through a grin.

“No clue,” I respond, and Olga Karamazov steps forward before I can finish the train of thought.

“Welcome, troupers,” she calls out. Her voice carries to every corner of the room, confident and strong, and the camp quiets down immediately.