Miss Match

by Fiona Riley

  “You have a dance studio?”

  “I do. I like to keep active and it helps me clear my head. We host classes most nights of the week and have free dance training for neighborhood children on the weekend and in the summer. So, like I said, only at my studio and when I have time in my schedule, okay?”

  “Okay, done. What else?”

  “If at any point I feel uncomfortable or she is no longer making progress, I can terminate my involvement and recommend a different, less amazing, but completely competent instructor.”

  Samantha laughed at her lack of modesty, appreciating that she was being a good sport about this. “Those terms are perfectly agreeable.”

  “And one last thing.” Lucinda flashed her that same wicked grin from the wedding a few weeks ago.

  Samantha leaned back and crossed her arms, a smile on her face as she drawled, “Yes?”

  “You have to come with me to a fundraiser event next weekend and act like you’re enjoying yourself.” Lucinda sipped her tea, keeping her eyes on Samantha, watching her mull over the request.

  The idea of spending one-on-one time with Lucinda was exciting. This could be very fun. What did she have to lose?

  “All right”—Samantha reached her hand out to Lucinda—“deal.”

  Lucinda shook her hand firmly, leaning back and recrossing her legs.

  The food arrived shortly after and they fell into easy conversation about nothing, laughing and joking as they traded food and poked at the decorative radish flowers on the plates.

  “So, are you seeing anyone these days?” Samantha asked quietly, letting her gaze settle on the surprised face in front of her.

  “No. Actually, I’m not.” She chose a salmon roll from the sushi and countered, “Are you?”

  Samantha resisted the urge to roll her eyes—the idea of dating was horrifying. But for some reason, she didn’t mind Lucinda asking. In fact, she liked being able to announce her single status to her newfound friend. Talking to her was easy.

  “No. For the time being I’m avoiding all romantic interactions that are not work related.”

  Lucinda nodded and looked toward the window of the restaurant. “I can appreciate that.”

  “Speaking of which…you know, I’d be more than happy to put you in the system and see what turns up if you wanted.”

  “Ha! You’re going to find me a perfect match, huh, Ms. Monteiro?”

  “Well, I can always try.” Samantha pointed her chopstick at Lucinda before gambling on her next statement. “We have an extensive portfolio of lovely ladies looking for their mates.”

  Lucinda choked on her tea, coughing into her hand while trying to gain composure. “Huh. People sometimes assume I’m straight. What gave me away?”

  Samantha covered her giggle with her hand before adding, “I told you, I have an eye for detail. The way you always hold the door for me, the tone you use when speaking with women versus men. Also, I saw you checking out my ass in the reflection in the glass at your office.”

  Now it was Lucinda’s turn to blush. She shrugged and looked up at chocolate eyes, “I told you it was a beautiful view.”

  *

  Samantha was still smiling when she returned to her office twenty minutes later. Lucinda Moss was charming and funny and beautiful, and Samantha thoroughly enjoyed her conversation style.

  “You’re awfully chipper. How was lunch?” Andrew leaned into her doorway, watching her hum to herself lightly as she moved things around her desk.

  “God! Andrew! You scared me.” She brought her hand to her chest and sat heavily in her seat.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “How. Was. Lunch?”

  “Umm, fine,” Samantha answered as she flipped open the laptop. “Why?”

  “You were smiling like a buffoon when I got here and humming quietly to yourself, so did you have a date or something?” He slinked into the room and sat at the edge of her couch, leaning forward excitedly.

  “A date? No.”

  “Omigod.” He pointed his finger at her, his eyebrows lifting to his hairline. “You got laid.”

  “Andrew, please.” She frowned. “I’m happy because I think I figured out a solution for our friend Sheldyn White.”

  “Oh.” Andrew sat down properly on the couch, clearly disappointed. “Well, what did you figure out?”

  “We just need to focus some of that nervous energy into something Sheldyn will enjoy and find useful at the same time. I had lunch with Lucinda Moss and—”

  “Aha!” Andrew exclaimed, jumping off the couch and pumping his arms in triumph. “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?” Samantha glared back at him.

  “You like her. I knew it.” He did his impression of an end-zone dance in his pristine Tom Ford pants.

  “Andrew, focus,” she chastised. “I’m trying to tell you I think I can fix our problem.”

  “And just how is Lucinda Moss going to fix our problem with Ms. Afraid of Her Own Shadow?” Andrew challenged, crossing his arms and flopping back onto the couch like a disciplined child.

  “She is going to give her private dance lessons.”

  Andrew crossed one leg over the other. “Is she giving you private dance lessons too?”

  “Huh, what? No. Why do I need dance lessons?”

  “Because”—he smiled smugly—“I have a feeling you would take anything she had to offer.”

  “Andrew.” Her tone was a warning, but she couldn’t stifle the flush she felt rising to her cheeks.

  “Oh please, Sam. You two spent the whole night of the wedding making eyes at each other.”

  “First off, you are completely delusional. Secondly, I like men, remember? And thirdly, this is strictly for the betterment of our business.”

  “Uh-huh.” Andrew rested his chin in his hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time you dabbled, remember Adriana and cheer camp? How about the first three years of college?”

  Samantha swallowed hard and averted her eyes.

  “Yeah, I thought so.” Andrew stood to leave. “You think she’s hot. Because she is. So good for you,” he called over his shoulder, closing the door behind him as he left.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Great class ladies!” Lucinda encouraged her students. “Next week we try something different.”

  The women filed out slowly and Lucinda ran a quick broom over the floor, smoothing out the surface and picking up any loose debris. This night had been more fun than usual; she had a good group of ladies that really challenged her to choreograph fun exercises. They spent most of today polishing their routine, so it had been a relatively easy night for her. She patted dry her forehead and checked her makeup again in the mirror. Tonight she was meeting Sheldyn White and seeing Samantha again. She was seeing Samantha again. The thought made her smile.

  They had talked twice over the phone since their lunch, coordinating their schedules and making sure the studio would be available. Tonight she would assess the situation and determine if dance could indeed help this poor soul. Lucinda rolled her neck and stretched her arms over her head before reaching to the side, stretching her obliques and loosening her lats. She took a quiet moment to lean forward on the barre before getting en pointe and slowly winding herself into a controlled spin. She let her mind wander as her body went through the familiar motions. Dancing had been her escape from the harsh reality of her life growing up. It soothed her. Even though she eventually got into the professional competition circuit with Dominic, her stance remained the same: she danced for herself, she danced for the feeling. She did not dance for some dollar-store plastic trophy and bad lighting.

  Her ankle clicked painlessly as she shifted position into another slow stretch. Years ago, she had taken a bad spill after a particularly arduous workout in prep for a competition. She had partially torn a few ligaments in her ankle and foot that required her to be immobilized in a boot. The follow-up with the doctor had been positive, but he warned her there was bone b
ruising that needed to be watched closely; although the ligaments eventually healed, her ankle still clicked from time to time.

  She often wondered how some wounds could heal so seemingly completely. The click was a reminder, like a scar—it was a reminder of her mortality, a reminder that there had once been pain and loss, but she had moved on. Lucinda often considered that when she had to overcome other obstacles. Losses. Pain. The body healed, that’s what it was made to do—bend, break, rebuild. She wasn’t so sure about the heart though. The heart was so much more fragile than the bones she danced on. Bones were strong and protected all the organs they enclosed, bones were walls. But what protected the wounded heart? Would the heart ever heal from all the pain life inflicted? Did that feeling of loss ever go away? Or would she scar over, her heart clicking like her ankle, reminding her that it had been rebuilt but was forever changed? She considered whether this scarred, changed heart would ever beat as vibrantly as it had before she had known such pain. But then again, she wasn’t sure she knew a life without it.

  “Where did you go, just then?” Samantha Monteiro’s voice played like music to Lucinda’s ears as she opened her eyes from her stretch. The smile was automatic.

  “Just enjoying the moment…stretching is very relaxing for me,” she replied quietly, turning and leaning against the barre to face her guest. “You look nice.”

  “Oh, thanks.” Samantha blushed.

  “Where’s your client?”

  “She’s on her way, I’m early. I just wanted to make sure you had everything all set.”

  Lucinda stepped forward and spread her arms out wide. “Just me, the barre, and the floor, ready and waiting.”

  “Well, let me tell you a little about our friend.” Samantha crossed the floor, dropping her purse by the bench in the back before walking slowly back to Lucinda in the middle of the room, her heels clicking with a loud echo on the perfect hardwood floors.

  “No, thank you. No preconceptions. The less I know the better, because then I can hone in on her physical responses to movement. I don’t need to know what makes her tick beyond that.” Lucinda saw that the quiet confidence of her words halted Samantha a few feet away. She watched Samantha’s face, choosing her next words carefully.

  “Let me show you,” Lucinda said. “Let me show you what I mean.” She took Samantha’s left hand in her right, stepping closer and guiding Samantha’s other hand to her waist, holding her hand in place with her own.

  “Just relax. Move with me. Let me lead.”

  She spoke quietly, letting her gaze meet Samantha’s. She had such beautiful brown eyes; Lucinda let herself get lost in them as she moved in a gentle circle on the floor. She felt Samantha’s tense stance start to loosen as she slowly turned them, melting even more as she slid her hand off Samantha’s and pressed it hesitantly to her lower back.

  Samantha broke eye contact and blushed, looking over Lucinda’s shoulder and tucking her chin as Lucinda pressed her palm flat against her back, repositioning the gentle grip she had with her right hand. She smiled as she felt Samantha take a short, almost inaudible breath. She held them close like this, moving slowly as she listened to Samantha’s breathing, occasionally feeling the ghost of that breath across her collarbone. Lucinda liked the feeling of having Samantha this close. She fit perfectly in her arms, moved so well with her.

  Lucinda stepped to the side, hooking her arm behind Samantha’s back and pressing her weight into her hands, turning her slowly and dipping her backward. Time slowed to a stop as she held Samantha in extension, letting her eyes trace the contours of Samantha’s jaw and perfectly tanned neck. She didn’t realize at what point she’d started humming but when Samantha looked into her eyes, she stuttered the tune to a halt. She smiled at the embarrassed dimple Samantha was flashing and pulled her back up, easing her close again before twirling her gently on the spot. She let her hands slide slowly down Samantha’s arms before lightly clasping their hands together, keeping her gaze intently locked with her dance partner’s. She was reading her, feeling her, seeing her up close.

  “That moment, when you feel free,” Lucinda said softly, “when you don’t think, you just move and react…that’s the moment I wait for, that’s the moment I need to see, to feel. That moment tells you everything.”

  Samantha nodded subtly, her fingers curling gently in Lucinda’s palms as she dropped her gaze to their hands.

  “I think your client is here,” Lucinda whispered, threading her fingers between Samantha’s for a moment before squeezing gently, releasing their hands, and stepping back, increasing the space between them and nodding toward the door.

  *

  When Lucinda had calmly told her that she didn’t want any background information on Shelly, her first instinct was to object—after all, she knew Shelly the best of the two of them. But the self-assurance of her statement stopped Samantha in her tracks. It was oddly refreshing to be gently commanded. She found herself watching Lucinda’s movements as though she was some fragile piece of art, paying close attention to the details of her breathing, the way her collarbone moved as she spoke. She was drawn to her. It seemed like a perfectly normal occurrence for Lucinda to reach out and touch her, pull her into such an intimate position, and lead.

  She found herself hanging on Lucinda’s every word. Lucinda spoke softly, with clear meaning. She did not wax poetic about dance; she just lived it. When her hand settled comfortably on Samantha’s hip, it felt like a natural extension of herself, like it was made to rest there, to guide her. And when Lucinda shifted her weight into their joined hands and dipped Samantha back, her heart raced. The closeness of their position, Lucinda’s eyes intently tracing her face—it was exciting to be so closely admired. The look in Lucinda’s eye was one that she was familiar with, one that she looked for when matching her clients. She was sure of it: Lucinda was attracted to her. What surprised her was she felt the same thing for Lucinda.

  When Lucinda started to hum, seemingly absentmindedly, Samantha thought she might faint. Lucinda cradled her in position, a firm and confident hand at her lower back, controlling every tiny movement. It was intoxicating. She had seen the small smile on Lucinda’s perfect mouth when she had involuntarily gasped as they first started dancing—she knew she was staring at those same lips while Lucinda hummed. It was reflexive; she couldn’t help herself if she tried.

  When Lucinda noticed her gaze and stopped humming, a part of Samantha mourned the loss of the melodious sound. After a brief pause, she was brought upright. Thankfully though, she was held close. A little more time this close wasn’t so bad, right?

  When Lucinda spoke, Samantha was frozen in her spot, her hands lightly clasped with Lucinda’s, feeling far too out of breath for the amount of activity they had just done. She understood what Lucinda meant before, she could feel it. She was listening to her body, feeling the way she moved with her hands and hips. Lucinda was reading her body language as fluently as if it were the only tongue she knew.

  And just like that, it was over. Lucinda gently squeezed her hands and stepped away as Shelly came into the studio and broke their trance. Samantha had never been so disappointed about someone’s punctuality than she was in that moment.

  *

  Lucinda Moss could tell from across the room that Sheldyn White was a heartbreaker in the rough. She was a petite five foot four and thin, with soft, wavy brown hair. She wore dark-rimmed glasses and fidgeted nervously by the door, waiting for her arrival to be noticed. Her clothes fit well but were wrinkled, and she scuffed her shoe nervously on the floor as Samantha introduced them. Lucinda was going to like this woman, she could tell, but she could also tell she would be a little work.

  “Hello, Ms. Moss, it’s nice to meet you.” Her eyes darted frantically across Lucinda’s face as she extended her hand.

  “Ms. White, may I call you Sheldyn?” she asked quietly, using her tone to sooth her nerves.

  Sheldyn’s beautiful green eyes stopped their nervous movement and she looked a
t Lucinda fully. She nodded. “Shelly. I prefer Shelly.”

  “Good, well, let’s start by you calling me Lucinda.”

  “Hi, Lucinda, nice to meet you.” She glanced over at Samantha for approval. She nodded and smiled, and Shelly appeared to relax infinitesimally.

  “So, Shelly, I hear we have some work ahead of us. Have you ever danced before?”

  “Um, like in a class? No.”

  “Okay. Well, let’s get you out of that heavy coat and see what we can do. Ready?”

  She looked over at Samantha again, like a child waiting for approval from her parent. Lucinda walked toward the surround sound system in the corner and watched their interaction in the glass. Samantha smiled warmly and whispered something quietly to Shelly that made her smile. Lucinda selected basic ballroom music, turned the volume up so it was a little more than background noise, and walked back to her clients, nodding to Samantha as she passed her.

  Samantha leaned against the wall and observed. She couldn’t help the smile that felt like it was permanently etched on her face. Her cheeks were beginning to actually hurt. Lucinda had weaseled her way under Shelly’s defenses and around her anxiety. They were facing each other, hands in position, and moving slowly, a few steps left then right, forward then back. Lucinda was actually getting Shelly to laugh and make eye contact. She hadn’t stuttered in fifteen minutes. She only stepped on Lucinda’s foot twice, and from what Samantha could see, she was beaming. Her favorite part was definitely when Lucinda taught Shelly how to twirl her.

  She would demonstrate herself first, then tentatively take Shelly’s hand and guide her through it. After a few tries Lucinda coached Shelly on where to put her other hand, to lightly graze Lucinda’s body: back to abdomen to back. Shelly was obviously nervous at first. She started to move with a blocky, uncoordinated movement and pulled her eyes from Lucinda’s. She finished the spin herself and stepped back into position with her, saying something quietly that snapped her eyes up to Lucinda’s again. Lucinda nodded slowly, cleared her throat, and started to hum.