Moments of Julian

by Keary Taylor

  At eight, I gather my things up into my purse and head to the lobby. The community board is in the lunchroom which I have never eaten in a day in the five years I’ve worked here. But to my relief, there is no one there and no one in general on the main floor when I get there.

  There’s everything you’d expect on the community board. Flyers for shows, fundraiser events, classifieds from employees trying to sell their unneeded possessions.

  And the flyer for ballroom dance lessons.

  Gretch didn’t quite get all the details right. It’s a nine week course and meets Tuesdays and Thursdays, starting tomorrow. The cost is $120 and they meet at one of the buildings on Fifth Avenue from seven to nine.

  People don’t insult me. I excel at everything I put my mind to.

  But apparently, not at dancing with nameless men at parties.

  I will fix this.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I’m most worried about what to wear to the class. As soon as I got home I spent two hours searching online for what was appropriate to wear. On my lunch break I went shopping. I found a place that sold ballroom shoes, which I read were supposed to fit tightly. And they certainly do. I also settled for some leggings, a loose fitting black skirt and a simple cotton shirt.

  But I still feel self-conscious as I walk through the doors Thursday at six fifty-five.

  There are five other people already here. Three women of ages that range from probably nineteen to fifty-five. Two men who look to be thirty and forty. And a woman whom I assume is the instructor since she already has her shoes on and is talking to one of the men and women.

  I go to one of the chairs and start to put my new shoes on.

  “Oh,” the instructor says and I look up at her to see she’s talking to me. “Don’t put shoes on for today. You’ll end up breaking an ankle. We usually wait until week three to put shoes on.”

  That prideful part of me wants to tell her I’m quite used to walking in heels that are two to three inches higher than these, thank you very much, but I won’t be rude. I drop the shoes back into the black bag they came in and set them and my things in a corner.

  Another couple walks in the door just as the clock turns to seven. Not wasting a second, the instructor heads for the front of the classroom and stands before the wall sized mirror.

  “All right, everyone, let’s go ahead and get started, no sense wasting any time,” she says with a smile. “My name is Elizabeth Petrov, but please just call me Beth, it saves time.”

  Most everyone in the room chuckles and we all shift so that we are standing in front of her.

  “We will be learning three dances in this class,” Beth continues. She paces before the class and I sense this is a woman who does not slow down often. “The waltz, rumba, and the cha-cha. If, when you get to the end of the class, you decide you want to continue dancing and learn more, you are invited to take my intermediate course which meets on Monday and Wednesdays. Now, to start off, I would like everyone to take their shoes off and we will go barefoot for today.”

  I want to cringe, putting my bare feet on this wooden floor isn’t something I want to do. There are germs and dirt and very, very likely, human sweat. But I go ahead and slip my black flats off and set them with my other things.

  Just as we are all heading back to stand in front of the instructor, the door opens.

  And in walks the reason I am here.

  I freeze the moment his eyes meet mine.

  Suddenly I’m in the back seat of my car again and his body is on top of mine and his lips are on my throat and I am sure I am going to spontaneously combust.

  He, however, looks surprised for just a moment, and then an amused grin starts to curl on his face.

  “Ah, excellent,” Beth says as he walks toward the front of the room. “So glad you could join us this evening! Class, this is Julian. He’s a former student of mine and when he has free evenings, he comes and helps out with my beginner classes.”

  Oh crap.

  No wonder he called me a terrible dancer. He’s a freaking substitute dance instructor.

  His eyes meet mine again and I can instantly recall the warmth of his hands on my body, the feel of his tongue on mine, the taste of his kiss. How we fogged up the windows of my car and how there was at once not near enough space to what I wanted to do to him and all too much room for him to get too far away.

  At least now I know his name.

  “Happy to be here today,” he says, never looking away from me.

  Oblivious to the awkward moment building, Beth moves on. “Okay, let’s have all the women line up behind me, and all the men line up behind Julian. We’ll start off with a waltz. This is very elementary, we can keep it slow. Let’s go over the basic step.”

  I was already hesitant to come to this class because of course there was the chance I’d make a total fool of myself. It felt weird coming to a dance class because I am an adult. But with Julian here, and his eyes flickering to me every ten seconds, I feel like a total wreck trying to do the basic box step Beth is teaching.

  “And back, side, together,” she says. My eyes dart back to her feet, trying to study the way her feet gracefully rise and fall as she does that back, side, together. “Forward, side, together. One, two, three. One, two, three.”

  She turns around to watch the five of us do the step and despite my distraction, I think I’ve got it down pretty well. She gives each of us an approving nod.

  My eyes flicker back to Julian of their own free will. His feet move effortlessly in the box step, doing the same rise and fall thing Beth does as he executes it.

  “Okay,” Beth says loudly. “Now we’re going to practice doing that with a quarter turn. With each front and back of the box, you will turn one quarter until you are back facing the way you started. This is called the box with a quarter turn, just as it is. Like this.”

  Even though it seems simple, I know I am going to screw it up. Watching Beth closely, I step back on one with a slight rotation, step side with just a bit more rotation, and step together on three to close it up. Beth shifts so she can once again be at the front and we can watch her. We repeat it, only this time I start to somehow rotate the wrong way.

  Instinctively, my eyes dart to Julian, but mercifully, he is too preoccupied with the men to notice my screw up.

  It takes a good fifteen minutes of practicing over and over, but we all seem to finally get the rotation down. I finally feel confident I won’t mess it up again.

  “Okay, looking good everyone!” Beth says, clapping her hands together. “Let’s say we try it out with a partner now!” And my stomach drops down into my knees.

  When I decided to do this dance class, I forgot to consider one fundamental thing: Ballroom is danced between two people. I am going to have to partner with someone and someone will be very close witness to my terrible dancing.

  “Now, since we have two more women than men, I will dance the male part and we will rotate so no one is on their own too long. Now, go ahead and partner up and we’ll go for five minutes and then rotate.”

  I see Julian’s eyes jump to mine, but I discretely shuffle back toward the back of the classroom at the same time the nineteen year old girl not so discretely leaps forward to dance with him. Everyone else partners up and I get the first dance shift alone.

  I’ve averted embarrassment for at least a few minutes.

  I watch everyone else’s feet carefully for the five minutes since Beth is now dancing the male part. Slowly my confidence starts to recover. I am not the worst dancer. All the other women try to rotate the wrong way at least once and every man except Julian ends up stepping on one of the women’s toes at least twice.

  It’s messy in here. And I feel like I actually fit in.

  If only Julian weren’t here.

  “Very nice! How about for this next round, we set it to some music?” Beth says excitedly as she makes her way to the stereo set in the wall. “Switch partners!”

  When I look away from
Beth, already feeling a panic attack coming on, Julian is standing right in front of me.

  “I see you took my criticism to heart,” he says as he takes my right hand and directs my left to his shoulder.

  “Who said it was an insult?” I try to banter back, but it isn’t filled with as much confidence as I’d like.

  “You’re a woman who doesn’t put up with crap and takes herself very seriously,” he says and steps forward to start the rotating box step. “You wouldn’t be here trying to fix a fault someone pointed out if you weren’t insulted by it.”

  “You consider yourself very insightful, don’t you?” I say as I step side and close.

  “On occasion,” he says, bringing his face closer and talking low. “This feels a little familiar, doesn’t it?”

  “Um,” I mutter, scrambling for anything to say.

  “But then, I guess you were a little more…aggressive that night,” he says with a coy smile.

  “You’re enjoying this very much, aren’t you?” I say with a scowl.

  “I am,” he says as we complete the first rotation and start in to the next. “I think we were both enjoying the other night too. The one where you were just using me. Whatever happened to that fantastic dress, by the way?”

  “It’s with a seamstress, getting repaired,” I say, gathering my wits and deciding not to be so affected by this situation. Sometimes all a girl needs is some willpower to make it so.

  “That’s too bad. I quite liked the modification we gave it.”

  “Trust me, it was far too expensive to leave it the way it was,” I say with a condescending smirk.

  “So you’re rich then?” he says, with a nod of his head. His eyes shift away from me, thinking things over. “Then you must be an important employee at Digit.”

  “They like me there.”

  “All right, let’s move onto the next step!” Beth suddenly shouts and with that signature smirk, Julian steps away.

  It’s now that I realize that I never once tried to rotate the wrong way and never once tripped over my feet or Julian’s.

  The man could lead apparently.

  Over the course of the next hour and a half, we learn to do a running step and an underarm turn in the waltz. We practice proper posture and hand positioning. Last we practiced rise and fall, which is much harder than it seems. I can’t seem to figure out when I am supposed to step with the ball of my foot or the heel.

  I dance with every guy in the class and get my toes stepped on no less than seven times.

  But I do every step perfectly when with Julian.

  By the end of the two hours, I am as tired as if I’d done an hour run and a half hour of weights. Dancing is going to have unexpected workout benefits.

  “You all did really well your first day,” Beth says, giving an approving smile to the class. “Next week we’ll start in on the cha-cha introduction and review the waltz. Please try to practice the steps at home. I have these ridiculous handouts with feet and arrows that will hopefully help you remember them. Julian?”

  He nods and grabs the stack of papers she hands over. One by one, he hands them out to each of us.

  “Thanks for coming and I’ll see you next Tuesday!”

  I try to act all cool and unaffected as I take my time putting my shoes back on, and gather my things. I’m prepared to give Julian a little smile and walk right by him out the door without saying anything.

  But when I turn to leave, I find I’m the last one in the room, except for Beth.

  Julian’s already gone.

  Jerk.

  I pull on my jacket and head for the door. It’s quite dark outside by this point so I hit the unlock button on my keys to turn on the headlights.

  Just as I get outside the bright beam of the headlights to get in the driver’s side, I realize Julian is leaning against the back door.

  “Do you want to go get some coffee?” he asks.

  He’s got his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans and he looks so relaxed and his eyes so alert.

  Julian has been teasing me all evening and I haven’t been particularly nice back to him. The effect I have on most men is not the effect I have on him.

  “Yeah,” I respond, surprising myself.

  Julian pushes himself off my car and grabs the handle of my door. For a second I’m sure he’s going to ask for the keys and insist on driving, but he simply stands to the side, holding the door open for me. I give him a wary look before climbing in and starting the car.

  He climbs into the passenger side and I back out and start toward my usual place on Sixth Avenue.

  “You have no idea how much grief I’ve gotten over the fact that I never even got your name Friday,” I say. “And you still haven’t asked mine.” I look over and raise an eyebrow at him.

  “I didn’t need to, Sage,” he smirks.

  “And the fact that you do already know my name isn’t the least bit creepy,” I say with my brows furrowed.

  “That night, when we were in front of the building, your assistant came out, and she used your name,” he explains calmly.

  “You don’t know that she’s my assistant.” I’m being nasty, even though I have no reason to be. For some reason I seem to just like to be around Julian.

  “The girl was obviously afraid of you,” Julian says. “And I already know you’re someone important at your company. It stands to reason that you’d have an assistant and she seems a likely candidate.”

  I turn and look at him for a moment. “Her name is Gretchen and she’s fantastic ninety-eight percent of the time.”

  “And the other two?”

  “She’s pointing out my flaws,” I say as I turn the corner onto Sixth. “She’s the one who told me about the class.”

  “Hmm,” Julian says as he looks out the window. “I’ll have to send her a thank you card.”

  “And why’s that?” I ask as I turn into the parking lot and shift into park.

  “Because I’ve been regretting not getting your number ever since you drove off at one in the morning.”

  My eyes dart to meet his glittering green ones in the dark. I bite my lower lip to try and hold in the smile that is attempting to curl on my lips. Julian smiles too.

  “Shall we grab some coffee?” he asks.

  “Actually, I have to get up early for work tomorrow,” I say, trying to calm my blood down. “If I drink coffee now I’ll be awake until two in the morning.”

  Julian nods and glances toward the coffee shop before looking back toward the street. “Well, how about something else then? You know where Chism Beach Park is?”

  I nod, but I’m not about to tell him that I live only two hundred yards from it. “Yeah.”

  “Let’s head there.”

  The last of the evening light has faded and man’s own tiny suns glitter all around us. Glaring business signs, streetlights, headlights, windows. The evening feels glittery and bright. Even the sky is clear and the stars are shining as we head west and start dropping down toward the water.

  There is a sign at the entrance to the park that says it’s open from dawn till dusk, but I feel reckless tonight. I ignore the sign, pull into a spot, and shift into park.

  “Come on,” Julian says.

  We climb out of the car and Julian sets off across the grass at a slow pace. I watch him as I trail slightly behind. He walks calm and confident. His body is relaxed, his hands in his pockets. He isn’t the biggest man but he’s lean and I’d wager if he needed to, he could handle himself.

  “Where are we going?” I ask. I keep my voice quiet, I’m not sure why, but there is an air of sneakiness about us. Maybe it’s the fact that I do know we aren’t supposed to be here at this hour.

  “This way,” Julian says. He glances over his shoulder at me and that smile is ever present on his face.

  The dew is already collecting on the grass and it isn’t long before my flats are soaked through. For once, I am glad though that I am not wearing heels. I don’t walk throug
h grass often and if I were to be wearing heels, I’d be giving the park a free aeration.

  After a few more minutes, I realize where we are going.

  A small dock extends out over the waters of Lake Washington. Julian doesn’t hesitate as he walks out onto it and I follow him.

  The glittering lights are magnified double as they reflect off the water. The evening has grown darker as the hour grows later and even though I see this same exact sight every night, somehow I notice it more now, actually being on the water. I can’t take it for granted so much when I am down this close.

  Julian reaches the end of the dock and stops, his hands still stuffed into his pockets. He looks out over the water and takes in a deep breath.

  I wish I could snap a picture of this moment. It is so simple and quiet and easy. I know it isn’t going to last because the second I open my mouth I will probably ruin it, so for just a second, I want to enjoy it.

  “You just going to lurk back there in the shadows, or are you going to come up here and join me?”

  Heat rushes to my face and I slowly cross the dock and stand beside him.

  “I love this view,” Julian says, still looking out over the water.

  It is beautiful. To the north there is the 520 floating bridge. The traffic isn’t heavy this time of night, but it remains steady as people head for Seattle. The same is exact for the I-90 bridge just to the south. And straight ahead is the Seattle skyline, Space Needle and everything.

  This feels an awful lot like a romantic date. The intimate, glittery setting feels perfect to open up and share all my secrets. But that isn’t me. Besides, I just barely learned Julian’s name, and still don’t even know his last.

  True, I know what his lips taste like, and know exactly how the inside of his palm feels against my lower back, but that doesn’t count for much of anything.

  “This might be a little too intense right now, isn’t it?” Julian’s voice makes me jump when it cuts through the crystal silence.