CHAPTER 1   Even a perfect boy was allowed a flaw or two. At least, that was what I tried to tell myself as I stood outside my dance studio alone, waiting for Curt to pick me up. He wasn't always late, only when he lost track of time at the gym. So I don't even know that I'd call his tardiness a flaw, really. More like a small blemish. But still, it sucked waving good-bye to all my dance friends and saying, "I'm sure he'll be here soon. You don't have to stick around for me." Especially because I wasn't actually sure when he was going to show up, since I'd spaced and left my phone in his truck when he dropped me off earlier.

But it's not like he'd actually forget about me. He did that only one time, and it was totally an accident. Craning my neck to get a look at every vehicle that pulled into the parking lot was making me into a crazy person, so I decided to keep myself busy by running through the routine I'd just spent the past hour rehearsing. It was a lyrical dance for the upcoming fall recital, and the other seniors and I each had pretty significant solos during the middle of it. I started taking myself through the moves, but the dance studio was in a shopping center with a grocery store, a nail salon, and an insurance office. Not exactly the ideal location to break it down in the parking lot. So instead of a full double pirouette as I moved through the routine, I pulled my right foot up to my opposite knee and rose on my left toe, hitting the fingers on my right hand to my left palm twice. A pointed toe hovered just above ground level for a beat to indicate a kick; a small kick with my hands out to either side for a jeté.

My muscles ached to dance full out, to kick as high as I could and leap up into the air, but the sidewalk wasn't the place for a show. If only my class wasn't the last one of the night; actually practicing in the studio would have been a much more productive use of my time. I'd run through the entire routine four times by the time Curt pulled his lifted truck into the parking lot, honking the whole way. "Finally," I mumbled, grabbing my bag from the ground and walking toward the passenger side. But I rearranged my face into a smile when I crawled up into his truck. "Sorry I'm a little late, babe," he said after kissing me on the cheek. "Today was back and shoulders, and you know how I get into those lat pulldowns." "It's cool.

" It wasn't cool, but one look at Curt Mitchell's big brown eyes and rock-solid biceps made me forget my irritation over waiting alone almost thirty minutes as the streetlights flickered on. I could never stay mad at him. What could I say? His hotness did strange things to my head. "You left your phone." He cocked his head toward the center console. "It was beeping at me the whole way over here." Huh, that wasn't normal. Usually the only person who ever blew up my cell was Curt.

However, it wouldn't have surprised me if he had texted me a bunch of times and then wondered what that beepy noise in his truck was. I grabbed my phone from the console and scrolled through my texts. "So, how was rehearsal?" he asked, turning the volume down on the playlist I'd made for him. "Learn any new moves?" "Great," I said, not looking up. "The lyrical is really coming together. I need to do some more work on my solo, though." I spared him the specifics, since I was pretty sure he cared about the details of my dancing about as much as I cared about hearing the play-by-play of his lat pulldowns. "What's so interesting over there?" He jabbed a playful elbow into my shoulder.

"You're staring at your phone like it holds all the answers to life's problems. Everything okay?" The texts waiting for me weren't interesting. They were annoying. My mom, whose only job seemed to be keeping her nose up in my business at all times, wanted me home immediately after I left the studio, but she didn't give a reason. Looked like no post-rehearsal make-out time for me and Curt today, since we were already running late. Thanks for the salt in my game, Mom. Then, one from my kinda-sorta best friend Amanda, and my ex-boyfriend Jack with another one of his ridiculous "fun facts." 1 IN 5,000 NORTH AMERICAN LOBSTERS ARE BORN BLUE.

HAPPY FRIDAY! I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Everything's fine. Just a bunch of stuff I don't want to deal with." I tossed my phone into my bag and kicked it for good measure. "But I do need to go straight home. Looks like Dance Mom's in a mood again." Curt shook his head.

"What's up with her lately? She's really cracking down on you." "Oh, it's always something with her and Dad these days. They're fighting like cats and dogs." I stuck my thumbnail into my mouth and chewed on it for a second. "Do your parents do that? Fight?" Curt and I had been a couple for almost a year now-eight months and three weeks, to be exact-and after we got home from hanging out at school, we would text and chat online and talk on the phone almost all night. For some reason, though, I couldn't bring myself to share anything serious with him. I'd try to bring up my parents or things that were bothering me, but I'd always chicken out as soon as the conversation got too real. He adjusted his rearview mirror.

"My parents? The biggest problem they have is that my dad prefers the Chinese food my mom makes, and my mom'd rather just cook hamburgers all the time." Curt's half-Chinese, half-white, all gorgeous, with a magazine-perfect family, which was why I never really brought up my own home troubles with him. He wouldn't get that my parents hadn't said anything nice to or about each other for at least two months now. Maybe three. He peeked at me from the corner of his eye. "What's bothering you, babe? You know you can talk to me if something's on your mind. That's what I'm here for. I can handle the tough stuff.

" "I know." I chewed on the tip of my thumb as I stared out the window. "Forget it. It's not a big deal." I didn't make a habit of lying to my boyfriend; it's just that I was scared that if he saw my ugly side-that I sometimes hated my parents for not keeping their fighting to themselves and I wanted to run away every now and then; that I'd once daydreamed for a good ten minutes about pushing Amber, my closest dance friend and biggest studio rival, off the stage so I could dance our duet as a solo; or even that I sort of hated water polo, the sport he dedicated as much time and passion to as I did to dance-that he'd be done with me like last night's homework. Not that I sat around comparing boyfriends, but because I'd known my ex Jack forever, I'd always been comfortable talking to him about any random thing, silly or serious. With Curt, though, I didn't know. It was exhausting trying to be the perfect girlfriend all the time, but I didn't want to give him a reason to wake up and realize he should be with someone less of a disaster.

I'd hoped that he'd reveal something scandalous about his family life to make me feel better about my situation, but it looked like the constant state of war between my parents really wasn't normal after all. "Kara." He tried to sound stern, but his voice gave away a hint of playfulness. "I can tell something's up." "I think my dad is just stressed at work," I mumbled, still looking out the window. He moved one hand from the steering wheel and rested it high up on my leg. "But the question is," he said, rubbing circles on my thigh with his thumb, "are your parents going to be cool with you coming to Rob Chang's party tonight? Am I going to have to crawl up your trellis and sneak you out? Or are you going to have to throw that long blond hair out the window for me?" It was a good thing I had tights on under my shorts, or he'd have been able to feel all the goose bumps popping up all over my leg. "Well, first of all," I said, smiling, "I don't have a trellis.

And, no, my parents are not cool with me going to the party. But they are fine with me going to the movies with some friends, which is what I told them I would be doing tonight." He eased the truck to a stop at a red light and leaned across the center console, nuzzling into my neck. "You sneaky girl," he said into my ear. "I'm such a bad influence on you." It's true that my world pretty much turned upside down when I started dating Curt. With over four thousand students, Pacific Coastal High School was way too huge to have a "popular crowd." So it's not like I was some outcast plucked from obscurity and thrust into high school stardom when my dancing captivated him at last year's studio fall recital, when he was there watching his little sister.

But as soon as the gorgeous water polo captain welcomed me into his life, I found myself invited to parties that I didn't know happened on the weekends and hanging out with people I'd only ever come into contact with when I waited behind them in the bathroom line. It was pretty unbelievable to kick off my senior year with an invi.