Free Girl vs. Boy Band by Harmony Jones

amazement as Aidan stormed off.
    So much for getting to know each other.

    Saturday morning dawned warm and sunny. Lark was relieved to find that the beauty of the day seemed to banish all of the tension from the night before. At breakfast, Max and Ollie made all sorts of quips about never seeing the sunshine in England.
    Even moody Aidan got in on it. “That explains why we’re all so pale and pasty looking.”
    â€œSpeak for yourself,” joked Max.
    Donna, who always slept late on weekends, arrived in the kitchen just as the boys were finishing the enormous pile of pancakes Mrs. Fitzpatrick had prepared.
    â€œBig day, boys!” she announced. “You’ll be meeting your choreographer this morning. His name is Jasper Howell and he had a hand in nearly all the dances at this year’s Video Music Awards.”
    â€œBeing he’s a choreographer, I would think he had a foot in them, too,” Ollie observed. “Maybe a couple of hips, a bum . . .” He gave his bottom a little shake.
    Lark laughed.
    â€œYou know, I was planning to have you rehearse in the garage,” said Donna, sipping from a tall glass of orange juice. “But you could use a little color in your cheeks. I think I’ll have Jasper work with you outside instead.”
    Lark stopped laughing.
    â€œOutside? You mean by the swimming pool?”
    â€œSure. There’s plenty of space for them to learn their dance moves on the patio.”
    â€œBut Mama, I’ve invited Mimi over to swim.”
    â€œNo worries,” said Ollie. “We aren’t learning water ballet. You’ll have the whole pool to yourselves.”
    Lark spun on her heel and headed for the stairs. The sense of panic was overwhelming. She was about to spend the entire day with LA’s most sought-after choreographer and three gorgeous teenage boys.
    And she was going to have to do it . . . 
in a bathing suit
!

    Mimi arrived at eleven o’clock, wearing a cute terry cloth cover-up and hot-pink flip-flops.
    â€œWhat happened?” she asked, lifting her sunglasses to glance around Lark’s bedroom. “It looks like a Lycra factory exploded in here!”
    Lark was standing in front of her full-length mirror, studying herself with a critical eye. At the moment, she was wearing a navy-blue one-piece swimsuit with a V neckline and a scoop back. On the floor at her feet were two more bathing suits—another one-piece in bright orange and a red-and-white-striped tankini.
    â€œI’m running out of options,” said Lark, ducking into her enormous walk-in closet to strip off the navy-blue suit and try on another. “None of these look right!”
    â€œPlease,” said Mimi. “How could any of them look
wrong
? You’ve got, like, the perfect figure. I’d sell my video camera to have that tiny little waist.”
    Lark popped out of the closet, this time clad in a retro-style two-piece, with a high-waisted bottom and a modest halter top. It was her last suit.
    â€œWhat do you think?” she said, looking over her shoulder to check out her backside in the mirror.
    â€œNice bloomers,” said Mimi. “Very Marilyn Monroe.”
    Lark faced the mirror, glad to see that thanks to the cut of the suit, her belly button would not be making an appearance this afternoon. There was a great deal of bare back showing, but she could just about live with that.
    â€œSince when are you so weird about bathing suits?” asked Mimi, gathering up the discarded swimsuits and dumping them into a drawer.
    â€œI’m not weird, I’m just . . . conservative.”
    Mimi gave her a look.
    â€œOkay, I’m shy.” Lark sighed. “
Very
shy. And the idea of being so . . . um . . . well,
exposed . . . 
in front of these boys—any boys, really—makes me extremely nervous.”
    Mimi laughed. “You are so