Imagine you're throwing a veil over your story, and everything—EVERYTHING—becomes hidden under that veil. That's what the reader will be excited to pull back, to see what's underneath.
You can do a simple exercise. Take one page of your writing and re-write it as if it were hidden under a veil.
How? By hiding each sentence underneath another, by hiding each line of dialogue underneath another.
They sat down to eat dinner.
"I'm worried about our son," she said. "He's gotten into yet another fight in school today."
"You're not the only one who's worried," he said. "I'm worried too."
What's wrong with the above? Technically, nothing. But it's boring as fuck. There is no veil for the reader to pull back. Nothing to discover.
How about this, with the veil on:
She pushed the plate away, her food untouched. (The reader wonders, "Wait, what? Is she eating something? What is it? Why is it untouched! Oh, she is upset about something! What is she upset about? Is she alone? With someone? I want to know!)
"Drama. Drama therapy," she said. (The reader wonders, "Therapy? For whom? Why drama? Who is she talking to?")
He looked up from his plate, stopped chewing. (The reader wonders, "Is this her husband? Who are they talking about?")
"I've looked at her recommendations. She's the top therapist in—" (The reader wonders, "Why is she apologetic? What is she scared of?")
"How much?" he said. (The reader wonders, "Oh, so he is the money? But who are they talking about?")
"Why should it matter? He's our son. After what happened at school today—" (The reader wonders, "What happened to their son?")
"I know what happened. I don't want to send him to a shrink. And that's final." (The reader wonders, "What did the son do?")
And so on. The reader is glued to the pages, turning them, and you continue throwing over the veil, and you continue making the reader peel it back, to see what's underneath.