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xp_logsMiles enlists Jennie for help to woo his new lady love.
Literary magazine, Angel's secret newspaper, Warren's social media, driver's ed, Generation X, Scott's "enhanced" training, and Spider-Man, all on top of a magnet school's curriculum, including four AP classes. How Miles managed to stay afloat, he wasn't quite sure himself. And now he wanted to add a girlfriend. Well, Becky wasn't officially his girlfriend yet. They'd made out a few times and he was pretty sure that the last time they'd kissed, she'd briefly grabbed his ass. So that was pretty much a girlfriend.
In any case, after two dates, he was running out of ideas for more. He was sure that dinner and a movie would not thrill her for much longer. But then he'd overheard (eavesdropped, if he were being honest) Becky talking about her upcoming tap lessons and got a great idea. Dance! He probably couldn't learn to tap in a week, but that must have meant she liked to dance, and how hard could it actually be to learn salsa or the waltz? It was perfect. He'd take her out dancing and then she'd agree to be his girlfriend for real and also go to next base. It was a great plan.
Miles had seen the flyers hanging at the mansion for At the Barre, and though he didn't actually know Jennie Stavros personally, he had at least seen her name many times in the reading material Scott had assigned him, so she must surely be a good teacher. He opened the door to the studio and glanced around, trying to recognize her from the photos he'd seen.
Classes were out, and Jennie was perched in the corner on a stool, talking to Marnie, her friend and co-owner about mutual students and how best to work with them. A familiar face flashed in the corner of her eye and she started.
But it wasn't who she thought. She shook her head, and offered him a smile. "Miles, right? Come in, take your shoes off, what can we do you for?" she waved him in.
Miles kicked off his sneakers without bothering to untie them and stepped further inside, looking around. He'd never been to a dance studio before so he no idea what to imagine. It seemed so empty. Just lots of open floor space and mirrored walls.
"Uh yeah, that's right. You're Jennie, right? From the . . ." He glanced at the woman beside her and stopped himself, not knowing if she knew how Miles and Jennie recognized each other. "Um, I was wondering about the classes you have here."
"S'all good, sport," the other woman winked at him. "I'll go send out those emails," Marnie had not missed the look on Jennie's face, and wisely decided to let her handle the kid.
"Thanks Marn," said Jennie, and then turned to Miles as Marnie disappeared into the office. "Marnie knows about us, so you don't have to worry about that. She's been my best friend since I was 18, and she's kept our secret for that long. So," she clapped her hands together. "Classes. Yes. I've read up on you, is there anything in particular that you are interested in?"
"Oh." Miles visibly relaxed. He was going to need a spreadsheet of who knew what secrets in order to keep track. "Uh, I guess, like, salsa and tango? Partner stuff. But, like, that looks good on the floor."
Jennie tapped her chin. "We do Modern, Hip-hop, Tap, Jazz, Ballet and Ballroom, and we have a Swing class on Thursdays. Our ballroom classes would be the closest you'd come to those styles, but the people in those classes have a good twenty years on you." Jennie leaned in conspiratorially, "There's a girl, isn't there?"
Miles nearly faded out of sight right here. "Uh. Hypothetically, if I was coming here for a girl, what kind of dance would you suggest?"
"Well," Jennie said, leaning back. "It depends on the girl. Are looking to impress her with your skills, or are you looking at... romance?" she pronounced the last word in French.
"Ohmygod," Miles muttered with all the embarrassment a teenager could possibly muster. "Both, I guess? One kinda leads to the other, right? I mean . . . I just don't want to look like a complete idiot."
Jennie laughed and eased up on her torture of the poor boy. She had to remind herself that this wasn't Winston, and teasing him when he barely knew her was not the proper thing to do. "Has she spoken to you about what she likes? Anything that she's interested in? One way to impress a girl is to show that you care and are paying attention to her likes and dislikes."
"I dunno. She has pictures of Joseph-Gordon Levitt and Zayne Malik in her locker. She does tap. We have AP Physics together. She loves Taylor Swift and hates Katy Perry." Something she had made abundantly clear at homecoming.
"Hmmm," Jennie stood up, and crossed over to the display rack by the shoe cubbies. She picked up a brochure and brought it to Miles to look over. "We do have a Tap class, which is on Saturdays and Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, what is your schedule like?"
"Tap's not sexy, though," Miles said before he even knew those words had left his brain and formed on his lips. "Uh, I just mean . . . I'm thinking something more partner- and contact-oriented. Maybe swing? Or even hip-hop. I mean, it's not really partners but I know I'd be good at that."
Jennie leaned back and looked at Miles through slitted blue eyes. "Lookup Savion Glover on the youtubes, and then come back to me about Tap. But enough about that," she gave an airy wave. "We can maybe fit you in with our swing, and hip hop is Wednesday and Fridays, but something tells me you have other extracurriculars that might get in your way."
Miles was at least sure that Jennie was an X-Man, so he wasn't going to make a dumb mistake with her like he had with Rachel. "Maybe just start with hip hop first, so I don't have too much on top of my 'extracurriculars.' I can't come here every night."
"I mean, yes, that. But what else do you have going on? I have a policy of kids not doing more than 10 hours of work a day, seven hours of schooling, leaving them three hours to do homework and extracurriculars, that way I don't have exhausted kids dragging their way through routines, and I have kids in here that are here and present because they want to be here, not because Dance Mom has dreams of tv and Broadway," Jennie rolled her eyes. She'd also caught snatches of gossip about the kid's schedules at the mansion. A lot of admiration for Miles's ambition, but all kids had a limit.
"Definitely not my mother." She had made it plenty clear as long as he could remember that his career would be a stable, intellectual one. Even if he had any interest in performing, it would have been in a court room to a jury box and not on a stage. "Uh, lit mag is every Monday for a couple of hours after school. Gen X stuff whenever, and some extra training with Scott in the mornings. Everything else is flexible. And I've got an A- average right now, so. Two nights a week here? Ain't no thing."
"Ok," Jennie tossed her hair out of her eyes, and went into the back room. She motioned for Miles to follow. Marnie was in there, tapping away at a laptop, and Jennie hip-checked her in affection. "Scootch darlin," she said.
"Eat my Mom, bony," Marnie replied, and then winked at Miles. "Did you find something you liked, hon?"
Miles nodded. "Yeah, I think the hip hop . . . sorry, one sec." His phone dinged loudly with the Mario coin grab sound, a text message from Becky. He laughed softly as he read it, and quickly tapped out a reply. Not thirty seconds went by before his phone dinged again, followed by another rapidly written reply. This went on for a couple of minutes before Miles remembered that there were other people in the room. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.
"Oh no, do go on," Jennie waved a hand. She and Marine were perched side by side on the desk, chins cupped in hands.
"We wouldn't want to waste any of your valuable time," the grin Marine gave him could be best described as "shit-eating." If this was a path he was choosing to go down, he could bet dollars to donuts they would be merciless with him every step of the way.
Literary magazine, Angel's secret newspaper, Warren's social media, driver's ed, Generation X, Scott's "enhanced" training, and Spider-Man, all on top of a magnet school's curriculum, including four AP classes. How Miles managed to stay afloat, he wasn't quite sure himself. And now he wanted to add a girlfriend. Well, Becky wasn't officially his girlfriend yet. They'd made out a few times and he was pretty sure that the last time they'd kissed, she'd briefly grabbed his ass. So that was pretty much a girlfriend.
In any case, after two dates, he was running out of ideas for more. He was sure that dinner and a movie would not thrill her for much longer. But then he'd overheard (eavesdropped, if he were being honest) Becky talking about her upcoming tap lessons and got a great idea. Dance! He probably couldn't learn to tap in a week, but that must have meant she liked to dance, and how hard could it actually be to learn salsa or the waltz? It was perfect. He'd take her out dancing and then she'd agree to be his girlfriend for real and also go to next base. It was a great plan.
Miles had seen the flyers hanging at the mansion for At the Barre, and though he didn't actually know Jennie Stavros personally, he had at least seen her name many times in the reading material Scott had assigned him, so she must surely be a good teacher. He opened the door to the studio and glanced around, trying to recognize her from the photos he'd seen.
Classes were out, and Jennie was perched in the corner on a stool, talking to Marnie, her friend and co-owner about mutual students and how best to work with them. A familiar face flashed in the corner of her eye and she started.
But it wasn't who she thought. She shook her head, and offered him a smile. "Miles, right? Come in, take your shoes off, what can we do you for?" she waved him in.
Miles kicked off his sneakers without bothering to untie them and stepped further inside, looking around. He'd never been to a dance studio before so he no idea what to imagine. It seemed so empty. Just lots of open floor space and mirrored walls.
"Uh yeah, that's right. You're Jennie, right? From the . . ." He glanced at the woman beside her and stopped himself, not knowing if she knew how Miles and Jennie recognized each other. "Um, I was wondering about the classes you have here."
"S'all good, sport," the other woman winked at him. "I'll go send out those emails," Marnie had not missed the look on Jennie's face, and wisely decided to let her handle the kid.
"Thanks Marn," said Jennie, and then turned to Miles as Marnie disappeared into the office. "Marnie knows about us, so you don't have to worry about that. She's been my best friend since I was 18, and she's kept our secret for that long. So," she clapped her hands together. "Classes. Yes. I've read up on you, is there anything in particular that you are interested in?"
"Oh." Miles visibly relaxed. He was going to need a spreadsheet of who knew what secrets in order to keep track. "Uh, I guess, like, salsa and tango? Partner stuff. But, like, that looks good on the floor."
Jennie tapped her chin. "We do Modern, Hip-hop, Tap, Jazz, Ballet and Ballroom, and we have a Swing class on Thursdays. Our ballroom classes would be the closest you'd come to those styles, but the people in those classes have a good twenty years on you." Jennie leaned in conspiratorially, "There's a girl, isn't there?"
Miles nearly faded out of sight right here. "Uh. Hypothetically, if I was coming here for a girl, what kind of dance would you suggest?"
"Well," Jennie said, leaning back. "It depends on the girl. Are looking to impress her with your skills, or are you looking at... romance?" she pronounced the last word in French.
"Ohmygod," Miles muttered with all the embarrassment a teenager could possibly muster. "Both, I guess? One kinda leads to the other, right? I mean . . . I just don't want to look like a complete idiot."
Jennie laughed and eased up on her torture of the poor boy. She had to remind herself that this wasn't Winston, and teasing him when he barely knew her was not the proper thing to do. "Has she spoken to you about what she likes? Anything that she's interested in? One way to impress a girl is to show that you care and are paying attention to her likes and dislikes."
"I dunno. She has pictures of Joseph-Gordon Levitt and Zayne Malik in her locker. She does tap. We have AP Physics together. She loves Taylor Swift and hates Katy Perry." Something she had made abundantly clear at homecoming.
"Hmmm," Jennie stood up, and crossed over to the display rack by the shoe cubbies. She picked up a brochure and brought it to Miles to look over. "We do have a Tap class, which is on Saturdays and Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, what is your schedule like?"
"Tap's not sexy, though," Miles said before he even knew those words had left his brain and formed on his lips. "Uh, I just mean . . . I'm thinking something more partner- and contact-oriented. Maybe swing? Or even hip-hop. I mean, it's not really partners but I know I'd be good at that."
Jennie leaned back and looked at Miles through slitted blue eyes. "Lookup Savion Glover on the youtubes, and then come back to me about Tap. But enough about that," she gave an airy wave. "We can maybe fit you in with our swing, and hip hop is Wednesday and Fridays, but something tells me you have other extracurriculars that might get in your way."
Miles was at least sure that Jennie was an X-Man, so he wasn't going to make a dumb mistake with her like he had with Rachel. "Maybe just start with hip hop first, so I don't have too much on top of my 'extracurriculars.' I can't come here every night."
"I mean, yes, that. But what else do you have going on? I have a policy of kids not doing more than 10 hours of work a day, seven hours of schooling, leaving them three hours to do homework and extracurriculars, that way I don't have exhausted kids dragging their way through routines, and I have kids in here that are here and present because they want to be here, not because Dance Mom has dreams of tv and Broadway," Jennie rolled her eyes. She'd also caught snatches of gossip about the kid's schedules at the mansion. A lot of admiration for Miles's ambition, but all kids had a limit.
"Definitely not my mother." She had made it plenty clear as long as he could remember that his career would be a stable, intellectual one. Even if he had any interest in performing, it would have been in a court room to a jury box and not on a stage. "Uh, lit mag is every Monday for a couple of hours after school. Gen X stuff whenever, and some extra training with Scott in the mornings. Everything else is flexible. And I've got an A- average right now, so. Two nights a week here? Ain't no thing."
"Ok," Jennie tossed her hair out of her eyes, and went into the back room. She motioned for Miles to follow. Marnie was in there, tapping away at a laptop, and Jennie hip-checked her in affection. "Scootch darlin," she said.
"Eat my Mom, bony," Marnie replied, and then winked at Miles. "Did you find something you liked, hon?"
Miles nodded. "Yeah, I think the hip hop . . . sorry, one sec." His phone dinged loudly with the Mario coin grab sound, a text message from Becky. He laughed softly as he read it, and quickly tapped out a reply. Not thirty seconds went by before his phone dinged again, followed by another rapidly written reply. This went on for a couple of minutes before Miles remembered that there were other people in the room. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.
"Oh no, do go on," Jennie waved a hand. She and Marine were perched side by side on the desk, chins cupped in hands.
"We wouldn't want to waste any of your valuable time," the grin Marine gave him could be best described as "shit-eating." If this was a path he was choosing to go down, he could bet dollars to donuts they would be merciless with him every step of the way.
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