See Her (Turn it Up Book 1)

by Natalie Parker

  "Hi girl," she greets me. "Whatcha going to do tonight? Work on some choreography?"

  "Just need to move,” I say, handing my card over so she can process my payment.

  "I hear ya,” she says, after handing it back to me. "Listen, can I give you the keys? It's dead here and I thought I'd duck out early. I'm going to hang around a little while longer, maybe an hour, but can you lock up?"

  "Yeah. No problem,” I say, retrieving the keys from her.

  "Have fun,” she says, as I head off down the hall. Once I'm in the studio, I set everything down and grab my dance shorts out of my bag and duck into the bathroom to change. When I come out, I take a drink of water and sync the Bluetooth on my phone to the sound system. I sit down and do some stretches, while I scroll through my music app. I know what I'm looking for. When we do classes, it's generally to some pop songs. That’s just how it is; they always have the right beats and they're crowd pleasers. But I like to go off book sometimes, like tonight. I need something hard hitting and high energy. That calls for my rock favorites playlist. It has a decent variety, if I do say so myself. Everything from ‘Thunderstruck’ to ‘Radioactive’ and some old “hair band" classics. It's amazing, the moves and choreography you can put to this stuff, making for a powerful dance piece. More importantly, in my case, it's awesome for working out some aggression and negative emotions. I find it and put it on shuffle as I get up to set my phone out of the way. I do a few more bends and stretches to loosen up my back, shoulders, and hamstrings the best I can. As I let the adrenalizing music set in, I step around the studio, sort of like a tiger pacing. I usually start this way, soaking in the music and letting it take effect first. And then, when I'm ready, I start to move.

  Jack

  Twenty minutes later, I pull up in front of the dance studio and see Mayzie’s car parked just a few spots up on the street. I hope what I’m doing won’t piss her off, but I feel the need to take this chance. I need to see her, let her know how I really feel, and try my hardest to make this better. I get out of the truck and head up to the studio. I open the glass door, which has the ‘Dance It Out’ logo etched on it, and walk up to the front desk. Behind it, there’s someone who appears to be another dancer by the way she is dressed, shutting down the computer and gathering her bags like she’s making to leave.

  “Excuse me,” I say, and she looks up. “Is Mayzie Walker here?”

  “She is,” she responds. “But I wouldn’t interrupt her. She seems a bit amped up tonight. She’s really in the zone.”

  “Oh…okay. Thanks,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets and turning to leave. It’s clear this woman is being Mayzie’s bodyguard right now. I hear a sigh before she says, “Studio One.” I turn and look up just in time to see her walking past me toward the door with a faint smile on her face.

  “Thank you!” I call after her, as the door closes behind her. I turn and head down the hallway that I assume leads to the dance studios. The first one I come to on the left has the number “1” posted to the side of the door, which has a long, narrow window in it, giving me a look into the studio. And there she is. She’s wearing a grey t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, a navy sports bra evident underneath, tiny black shorts and black socks that I assume are for helping her to glide across the hardwood floor. And she’s moving in a way I’ve never seen her move before. Not just that, she’s taken on a completely different persona. She’s not doing any delicate, whimsical number either. Her moves are hardcore. The music that is playing in the studio is high energy, a Pop Evil song, if I’m not mistaken.

  All of a sudden, time slows down and all other noises fade away. It’s like I’m watching her move through water, with the sound of the music barely audible. Her hair is up, but some strands have come loose, falling around her face. She’s hitting her moves hard, with total force and precision in time with the beat of the music. I realize now, my girl’s a force to be reckoned with. She’s sweet and playful, but when her feelings are hurt, she’s going to express herself it seems. She just wants to do it alone. Maybe to protect the person she’s upset with - in this case, me, or maybe to protect herself by not putting her feelings on display for anyone. As I take in the fixed expression of frustration and determination on her face, I’m in awe of her and scared of her at the same time. And suddenly, a song is writing itself in my head. Lyrics are materializing out of nowhere. I continue to watch her intricate yet vast movements. She’s throwing her hands down hard. She’s bending her knee, spinning around and kicking her leg out. She’s turning gracefully several times down a long stretch of mirrors, before turning back and taking three long, fast strides and then I see her leap with one leg bent behind her, the other extended out in front of her. Oh my God. I knew she could dance; I knew she was good. I assumed she could execute some difficult moves, but damn. Seeing it with my own eyes is like a punch to the chest. Now she’s on her knees, throwing her head and arms all the way back so that she almost makes contact with the floor, and throwing her pelvis out. Sweet Jesus I’m going to die. And then she’s up again, doing a few more graceful turns, followed by another kick here and there, and some arm movements that have some serious punch behind them. I thought I was done for the moment I met this creature but now… I’m hopelessly in…

  I love her.

  The music switches over to an old Def Leppard ballad and her movements slow down and soften some, but her face is still in a hard expression with a small hint of sadness. With the music change, I snap back to the present, and suddenly feel as though I’m invading her privacy, and not respecting the space she obviously feels she needs right now. Not to mention, I’m a total hypocrite right now. I didn’t invite her to my shows, but I’ve invited myself to watch her dancing. Of course, that wasn’t in the plan. I came here to talk to her, but still… it’s not fair.

  The lyrics that have been forming in my head since I first started watching her are swirling in my mind, almost mocking me. It’s like they’re threatening to leave if I don’t get them written down. I turn and head down the hall and walk out the door, heading for my truck. After I let myself in, I reach over and grab my notebook off the passenger seat, scribbling down several lines that were inspired by the beauty I just saw dancing in that studio. When I’m satisfied that I got it all down, I close the notebook and toss it back on the seat. I stay there a moment, scrubbing my hand over my face. I’m torn between doing several things: going back in there to confess that I saw her and trying to work things out, texting her to ask her to please call me or going home and rubbing one off to thoughts of what I just saw her doing in there. Oh Jack, you bastard. I try to shake that last thought out of my mind.

  Before I can make up my mind, I see the studio door open and Mayzie walk out, her bag slung over her shoulder and her water bottle in her hand as she turns to lock the place up. She turns and starts walking up the street to her car, and once again, I stop thinking and just act.

  Mayzie

  I look at the clock when there is a break between songs and realize I’ve been at it for almost an hour and a half. I’m going to hurt tomorrow, but it was worth it. I throw my arms out and shout, “Thank you! I’ll be here all week!” to the empty room and shut down the music app on my phone. I grab my water bottle, and take a long drink before setting it down to pull my yoga pants on and slip on my sneakers. I grab my bag, turn out the lights and leave the room, heading down the hall and out the door. After locking up, I make it a few steps before I hear a familiar voice.

  “Mayzie!”

  What the fuck? I turn back to see Jack getting out of his truck and jogging towards me. What on earth is he doing here? He’s in his bar uniform, with his shirt open over a white tank. The sight of him reminds me of my hurt feelings, which stokes the fire deep in my belly that I had just gotten down to a dull ember. But a tiny part of me, deep inside, is happy to see him… and that pisses me off. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work,” I say.

  “I got someone to cover me at the bar
. I was going nuts knowing things aren’t ok with you and me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I just wanted to see if I could try to make it right…” Oh my gosh is he rambling? This is going to be good. “I’m sorry to show up like this, I really am,” he continues, “I tried calling, but you said you were here, so I took a chance.”

  I let out a long, hard sigh. “I really don’t know what to say right now, Jack.”

  “Maybe you can just listen then?” The look on his face is pleading.

  I let out another breath. “Okay,” I say after a few beats.

  He steels himself with a deep breath before he starts in. “These last few weeks, you’ve become so important to me. So much so, that I feel like you’re a part of me now. And then there’s my music, which has been a part of me for so long. What you think of my playing could either complete my life or break my heart, and I’ve been trying to decide if I’m ready to find out which. I’ve been scared to show you that part of me. I care so much about what it would make you think, and how it would make you feel. The people that have seen us play, they can like us or not like us, I don’t care. But with you, I care so much, and bringing these two parts of my life together… would be huge. It’s a big deal. And I guess, I just wanted that moment to be perfect, and feel just right. And that’s… stupid. I see that now.”

  I stare down at the sidewalk, afraid to meet his gaze. I have no strength at this point to handle the emotion I know I would see in his eyes if I looked at him. As I take in his words, the flames of hurt and anger inside me start to dwindle down again. This is important to him. He wants the first time he introduces me to his passion for music to be special. I’m still annoyed, but I can appreciate this. And apparently, he’s not done.

  “And as for what you and I are, I know what I want us to be. I want us to be together, you and me. I don’t want us to see other people. I want to know what you want, though I hope it’s the same thing.”

  I have to take a minute to process all this before responding, but I know that’s what I want with him too. More than anything.

  “I want to be with you too,” I finally choke out.

  “Thank God,” he says with a sigh of relief. “And…” he continues, “I want to start kissing you.” My stomach does a back flip at these words. “I’ve wanted to be kissing you since the beginning. Talking to you and being around you just felt so damn good, I realized I could wait for the physical stuff. Besides, I feel like a lot of relationships that take off at top speed like that are over before they start and I couldn’t stand the thought of that. But I’ve been stupid long enough and I want to start kissing you.” Oh, hallelujah. How badly I want that too. I’ve been yearning for that to the point it’s painful.

  “I want you to kiss me,” I reply, weakly. I’m so tired of waiting.

  “Good,” he says, stepping closer and reaching for my hand, and I let him. “I just need to tell you one more thing first.” I have a feeling I’m not going to like this, but if we’re going to be together, I need to remember that means sticking together through highs and lows. It’s not going to be blissfully perfect; that’s not reality. We are going to upset each other sometimes, and if we don’t talk it out and really try to hear each other, we might as well call it right now. So, I steel myself, let him hold my hand and finally meet his eyes, ready for what he has to say.

  “I saw you dancing in there.”

  What?! The flames ignite and start roaring so high, I’m sure he can see them in my eyeballs. I can’t believe he saw that! I was in my rawest form in there. Completely unbridled. That wasn’t meant for anyone to see. I feel so imposed upon and… kind of mad. I quickly try to compose myself and tamp it down, but he sees my reaction and gives my hand a squeeze, like he’s trying to help me stay calm and remember to hear him out.

  “You’re mad, don’t try to hide it. Go ahead, be mad at me. You don’t have to save it for your dancing.” He says.

  UGGGGHHHH!

  “You know what?” I start in, “I could have very easily YouTubed you at any time, to see your band play, and lord knows I’ve been curious enough. I could’ve found out about any of the gigs that you’ve had since we’ve been seeing each other and just shown up. Since the day we met, I have wanted to see you play, hear you sing, find out what your songs are about and experience that whole part of your world, but I didn’t. You know why?” I challenge, and I’m gesturing wildly with my hands now, “Because I wanted you to want that. I wanted you to share it with me. Taking it upon myself just didn’t feel right. I wanted you to invite me into that part of your life, to let me all the way in. And I would have loved for you to see me dance, any time you wanted. Any time. But when you up and come see me in my element while you’re holding your own life’s passion away from me, that’s…” I don’t know what to say from there. But he helps me.

  “It’s not fair. I know, and I realized that immediately after. You do need to know that I didn’t come up here to be sneaky and catch a look. I just wanted to show you I was serious about talking to you. But when I saw you dancing, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.” He takes a breath before continuing. “That said, what I’ve been doing is not okay. I’m sorry. Mayzie, I’m so sorry.”

  I let that sink in as I look at him. He’s being honest. I see it and I feel it. He means what he’s saying.

  “And I’ve realized something else about how wrong I’ve been. Seeing you dance… it changed my life. It blew my mind and leveled me. I’ve never felt anything like how watching you dance made me feel.” At these words, a bucket of warm water gets dumped on the last pitiful remaining flickers of my rage. I feel a gentle elation spread through me at the thought that this part of me makes him feel this way. I’m overcome with it, and I want to throw my arms around him.

  “That made me realize what a dumbass I’ve been, being so afraid to share that part of me with you like that.”

  We stand without speaking for a few moments, absorbing what’s been said and just taking each other in. The look on his face is a combination of defeat and hope. There is so much being said in the silence, making this moment a pivotal one. It’s like we both have a new, deeper understanding of each other. We both laid so much out for one another, even if it was frustrating and uncomfortable to say some of the things we said. It’s as if both our souls reached out, joined hands, and pulled each other a little closer. Finally, I offer him a small smile.

  “What’s that smile mean?” he asks, the edges of his own lips starting to curl up. He takes a step closer to me. “Do I get to come out of the doghouse now?” He reaches out to gently tug on one of the loose strands of my hair, before cupping the side of my face. I have to say, there is something to be said for when a guy doesn’t touch you a whole lot. The times he actually does makes this amazing sense of warm excitement ripple through your body. This is what I feel right now, and I let my smile grow a little wider.

  “Yes,” I say nodding, and leaning into his hand a little. “I get it.”

  “Good,” he says, moving his thumb back and forth across my cheek. “And things are going to change, I promise. Starting right now.” And with that, he brings his other hand up to my face and lowers his face to mine. His lips brush against mine before finally connecting. It’s gentle, yet there is a small amount of pressure behind it. He holds the kiss there for a moment, and then without breaking it off, sweeps his tongue across my lips to coax them open for him. It feels like liquid ecstasy is pouring down my throat to pool in my chest. It’s so intense and beautiful. When I open my mouth, he tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, caressing my tongue with his. It’s like he’s being tender and delicate, yet taking what he wants at the same time. My hands come up to hold on to his wrists. When he gently pulls away, he takes the breath from my lungs with him. Neither of us takes our hands away, and instead let our foreheads rest against each other. Me, I’m trying to keep my breathing even so that I don’t hyperventilate.

  “You should’ve done that a long time ago,” I
say, when I can finally speak. I still can’t open my eyes yet though.

  “I should’ve,” he agrees. “But that was more than worth the wait.” After basking in the moment on the sidewalk for a while, we decide to end the night on that good note and save more for the days to come. He walks me the rest of the way to my car, opening the door for me. He stands, waiting for me to throw my bag across to the passenger seat before turning back to him. “Can I come over in the morning?” he asks, brushing a stray hair out of my face, and looking longingly in my eyes. I can’t get enough of that look. To be looked at like that by him is all I need. “I have a surprise for you,” he finishes.

  “Yeah,” I say, excited at the idea of seeing him again so soon. Like when I wake up. He gently holds my chin while kissing my cheek, then he shuts my door for me after I climb into my car.

  Jack

  I walk into the house, give the attention-demanding dog some scratches as fast as I can and immediately walk over to my acoustic, picking it up and sitting down in my chair with it. I flip my notebook open to a clean page. A song did come to me while I was transfixed by Mayzie’s dancing, but that one, I already know, is going to be to an edgier tune. There’s just no getting around it. That is just what the moment, my feelings, and her movements dictated.

  But the way she looked at me tonight, when everything was falling back into place for us, sparked something else completely. I can’t fathom how all these songs are flooding into my brain since meeting her. Despite the frustrating struggle writer’s block was, I almost don’t know what to do with all the inspiration that’s coming to me now. Almost.

  The lines I wrote down in the truck before talking to Maze, those aren’t going anywhere. I know what to do with those. It’s going to be high energy, and it’s going to blow some minds. But this feeling that overcame me while we were talking things out, specifically in that moment right before I kissed her? I need to do something with that, and it needs to be for her. I don’t care if it takes all night.