by Tonya Plank
“Sure.” He ran to the bench to get his iPod. His face, momentarily turned away from mine, gave me a little time to recover. What was happening? Why did I see Willem? Because I now remembered we’d had this same fight before. Clear as day. I mean, not fight. We never fought. But we did. But it didn’t seem like a fight. He was always the one to want to do crazy things. But I trusted him. I trusted him with my life. And he would never ever let me get hurt. Never. If I would have been with him on his motorcycle that day, he’d still be alive, because he always looked out for me.
“Okay, here we go.” Jett clicked on the music. “Whoa, you okay?” he said, seeing my face, which must have been ghost white. He clicked the music off.
I nodded. “Perfectly. Let’s go on.” I shouldn’t have let my thoughts veer there. There was no point in thinking like that. Willem was gone. I hadn’t thought of anything negative in a very long time. Jett gave me a double take, but my expression made clear not to push it.
“Okay, cool,” he said, and the music resumed. “Okay, this is where the long lift ends. So, I’d be bringing you down here, and we’d go into the fish…here.”
I had a hard time returning to the present after having seen Willem’s face on Jett. I tried not to look into his eyes so as not to see it again. I don’t even know what happened during the rest of our practice. I just did what he said in an effort to keep focused on him. I let myself be carried away by the movement, let the dance overtake my brain.
At one point I did feel the tremor. But only slightly. He began leading me into a move Willem and I had done, and no one else. I reminded myself he’d seen the tapes. He was probably stealing without even knowing it. Though it was my choreography anyway, so if I was doing it, I wasn’t stealing.
“What? Come on, that looks so good—”
Without realizing it, I’d stopped. Jitters had overtaken my body. Jett looked right at my hand. “Okay.” He nodded, not sounding angry at all. But his tone was loaded with disappointment.
He was right to be disappointed. It was a beautiful lift. It was perfect for the dance. I imagined Belinda doing the same lift with him, and doing it perfectly. Should she take over? At this point, she was more able than I was. It would be the same as me giving him over to a better partner, like I had with Drew.
No, I belonged in this dance. I was going to do this.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Let’s try it again.” Then I got another idea. “Instead of me just running toward you and you taking me into the overhead lift right from there, why don’t you first lay me over your back. I’ll lift my leg and arch my back over yours. You can then swing me down, I’ll do a couple turns in front of you, and then we can go into the lift. We’ll build momentum from the spins.”
His eyes widened, and a grin slowly began to encompass his face. Yes, I’d just suggested something more complicated, and thus flashier. And, yet, it wasn’t the same exact lift I’d done with Willem. It was different. And it actually worked better for this routine. It had fluidity. And it had more air, so it would look more romantic—not that I was thinking of such a thing with him.
“That sounds gorgeous, Belle,” he said. “Are you sure? We have to have a stable—I meant Arabelle. Arabelle! Sorry.”
I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t even noticed, honestly. A lot of people called me Belle now. I was just being difficult earlier. “It’s okay for you to call me Belle,” I said with a smile.
His dimpled grin returned. “Awesome.” But then his gaze went to my wrist. I wasn’t shaking now. I’d calmed down. He noticed and nodded.
We tried the lift as I suggested and it felt as gorgeous as it sounded.
“Of course we’ll simplify things for the students,” Jett said.
Holy crap. I’d totally forgotten about them. I was mentally concentrating on us, choreographing for Blackpool, which I hadn’t mentioned to him yet. I couldn’t believe my subconscious was so active.
“Yes, of course.” I nodded. I couldn’t bring up Blackpool right now. I wasn’t ready to. If we didn’t compete, we’d still use all this in our team routine, simplifying it down.
“You look confused,” Jett said.
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
We ended up working late into the night, choreographing the whole way through. It was amazing. It just flowed out of us. And everything looked and felt so perfect, so natural, and so original. Every time something got too close to something Willem and I had done, I altered it slightly so that it wouldn’t feel the same. So that it wouldn’t be like anyone was replacing anyone else. Unbelievably, the new lifts looked even better and fit us better—our bodies and the music and overall dance story.
“You are a pretty awesome choreographer, Belle,” he said.
I giggled. I was. Who would have known I had that talent? Willem and our coach had always done our choreography before.
Amazingly, I didn’t feel the tremor all night. Not once.
We filmed ourselves with our phones and went through the whole thing one last time. When I looked at the clock, I couldn’t believe it. It was two in the morning.
“Holy crap!”
“I know.” He chuckled. “We kind of got lost in…ourselves a little there.” I looked at his face. That wicked smile was back—which brought all the blood in my body directly to my face. I felt a little dizzy. But not in a bad way. I fanned myself.
“Okay, um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow…”
“Where do you live? In Hollywood, didn’t you tell me?”
“Yeah, it’s only a couple short blocks. It’s an easy walk from here.”
“You think I’m going to let you walk home alone at this hour?”
“Uh, yeah, well…” It would be a little secluded on my street at this time of night. And my neighborhood was safe-ish... but okay, no place in L.A. was entirely risk free.
“Well, I can take an Uber.”
“At this time of night there’s going to be a crazy surcharge. Why don’t I just drive you? It would be so much easier.”
Why didn’t I want his help? He was totally right.
“Come on,” he said, picking up my bag.
“Uh…”
“Don’t fight with me, Belle. I have an early morning lesson, and the later you make me, the more you’re depriving me of sleep.”
Putting me on the defensive now? This guy… But when he turned around and shot me that oh-so-hot loopy grin, I knew he was kidding. He turned back around, but that smile stayed with me, and I felt a bolt of lightning shoot straight up my belly. I shook it off and followed him.
He had a hot little car, of course. A red convertible BMW. Everything about this guy was expensive.
“Okay, this is my building,” I said.
“Whoa, look at that—there’s actually a spot right in front.”
“Oh no, I can make it from here.” He was actually parking?
“Nonsense. I’m here. Of course I’ll walk you to your door.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, snappishly. I wasn’t that much of a weakling. Though I had to admit it would feel good to have him walk me up to my door. I once encountered a drunk guy sleeping on my stairway. It wasn’t a big deal at all; I just stepped around him. But still, you never know.
But when we got to my apartment, something crazy happened. I didn’t want to let him go. I turned to him and leaned against my door. His eyes were so deep brown, you could get lost in them. He had a dreamy look on his face. His smile now was serene, not at all cocky. For a moment, I thought I was going to swoon. For a split second, I just wanted to let him inside, to let him hold me. I even wondered what it would be like to sleep with him. But then I caught myself. What was I thinking?
“It’s okay, Arabelle,” he whispered, as if he read every single thought in my head. And then I felt his fingers caressing my cheek. He traced my skin from the top of my cheekbone to the corner of my mouth. I closed my eyes, letting him. I felt his lips touch the place where his fingers had started, the top of my cheekbone
, near my ear. One soft kiss. I wanted more but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not now. I opened my eyes.
“You get a good night’s sleep. We’ve got a lot of work tomorrow,” he said, his hand gently receding.
I nodded, fumbled with my keys, and unlocked my door. Once inside, all I could think was, what did that kiss mean? A kiss to the cheek. A friendly kiss? Yes, I hoped. No, I hoped it meant more. I didn’t know what I hoped.
Chapter 21
Jett
I was so tired for my group class the next day. All I could think about was Belle, about how much more I wanted to do to her than that one simple kiss to the cheek. What did she think of it? She seemed receptive, but hesitant. Was it still too early? I know it’s been almost two years since Willem died. I’ve never had anyone close to me die before, knock on wood. So, I had no idea how hard that could possibly be. Mandi had told me Lucia thought it was more than time Belle start to live again. So, at least her close friends thought it wasn’t too early.
When I walked into the practice room, something was very off. Belle was practicing her part solo. But she wasn’t doing the moves full-out. She looked shaky. Another flare-up?
I met Drew’s eyes across the room. He was practicing with another woman, maybe a new partner? He seemed to be making a point of getting my attention. He nodded his chin in the direction of another couple, whom I’d never seen before. They were very smooth, and pretty good. The guy whizzed the girl all around him. She could turn. Very flashy. They ended a series of high-speed turns with him hoisting her up high above his head and turning with frigging lightning speed. That was not any kind of ballroom I knew. That was showdance. Who were these people?
I looked back at Drew. Though I wasn’t a natural lip reader I could very clearly read his. “Your competitors,” he mouthed. I turned my attention to Belle. She concentrated on herself in the mirror, practicing simple rumba walks. She seemed to be paying them no mind; at least, that’s how she wanted it to appear.
The guy and girl glanced at me, whispered to each other, and then gave me a glare. She had long, cinnamon-colored hair and bright green eyes that felt like they were burning a hole through me. He was a stocky dark-haired guy with a lot of muscle in his arms and legs. His nasty look echoed hers. What the hell? How did they even know who I was? What the hell were they even doing here? Initially I just shrugged, pretending not to care. But then I remembered Belle saying how competitive they’d been, how they seemed happy when Willem died. Bastards. Just as I was about to go over and ask them what their deal was, Belle walked toward me.
“Not now,” she whispered when she got close enough. “I don’t want to go over our routine and show them what we have. Let’s just practice basics.”
As much as I wanted to show these a-holes what we were about, she was right. We didn’t want to be showing our competition what we had.
“What are they even doing here?” I asked.
“Trying to intimidate us,” Arabelle said.
“But Alessia let them in?”
“Alessia probably doesn’t know. She doesn’t keep track of everyone who rents out lesson space.”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t we tell her?”
Arabelle nodded. “I’ll mention it later. I wasn’t going to create a scene now by marching down to her office and letting them know they’re getting to me. I’m just pretending they’re not here.”
I nodded. “Okay.” I didn’t like it but I understood. I looked around. Several rolls of the eyes and shakes of the head made me realize I wasn’t alone in being pissed. Kendra even shook her fist at them.
Arabelle took my hand. Her skin was silky smooth. “Come on. I don’t want to get worked up. Let’s just practice.” I took in her beautiful scent, her quiet energy. I stood behind her, in shadow position, and did a rumba basic, our bodies touching lightly. I placed my hand on her abdomen. It was warm. I reached out with the other arm, and shadowed hers, reaching her hand, where I laced my fingers with hers. She closed her eyes and breathed heavily. I caressed her center and breathed in her sugary scent. Our bodies moved in unison, and, though it was just a basic move, I don’t know if I’d ever felt anything so beautiful.
Suddenly the door slammed shut, knocking me out of my reverie. I looked around. The competition had left, apparently pissed about something. The room was suddenly quiet, everyone looked around wide-eyed.
“What the flaming fuck?” Kendra yelled. Good ol’ Kendra.
Alessia opened the door. “I’m sorry. Debbie was taking a break and I didn’t have anyone to replace her, so they just walked right in.”
“Thank God!” Kendra sighed dramatically. “I thought they were teaching here now.”
“I can’t imagine anyone here would take lessons with them.” Alessia laughed. But her smile soon receded. “I guess we can’t let our guard down anymore.” She looked weary. She was worried. They were good, I had to admit. But we were better.
For team practice, I took out my iPhone and we showed everyone the routine we’d recorded last night.
“Oh man, it’s gorgeous—but we have so much to learn,” Josie said with a sigh.
Judy nodded.
“Nonsense. We’ll master it all in no time,” Kendra shouted. The more I got to know her, the more grateful I was for this girl. We started teaching everyone the new stuff, from where we left off. I knew it would be a lot, but I knew the team was up for it. We ended up getting almost all the way through, which meant we were ahead of target. It would give us plenty of time for going over things and polishing them. At the end of class, I gave everyone a thumb drive of the routine and told them to watch it at least three times every night before going to bed.
“It’s only three minutes long, so it’s not like reading a novel. It should be easy to do. This way it will be in your brain memory, so we can more easily convert it to muscle memory.”
“Totes do-able, sir,” Kendra said. That girl would always crack me up.
Afterward, Belle and I practiced. This time we went over the actual routine. When we started I could tell she was still a bit shaken, but not anywhere near as badly as before the team practice. We went through the routine once, slowly. There were several places I wanted to put in more oomph, but I wasn’t going to force it right now. Seeing those a-holes again was a lot for her. She was trying to control her trembling. I wasn’t about to sabotage anything now. So I forced myself to hold back, to not overdo it. It actually wasn’t hard to do at all. It was nice to feel her body, to touch her soft skin as I held her in a close hold, to focus on the romance of the choreography. And it was very romantic. As we went through the moves, I felt her energy return to me, maybe even her desire. Maybe. Desire was part of the storyline of the dance, after all. But was it just in the dance?
She totally caught me off guard when, before we began the second go-through; she suggested we amp it up. Well, kind of. She looked me in the eye, her pupils large and wanting, the blue of her irises fierce, and with a squeeze of my hand, said, “Let’s do it to the max.”
And we did exactly that. When we started I felt for her tremor. Totally absent. So I amped up the music, did everything full-out. No holds barred. I lifted her high, dropped her low, spun her fast. Of course I wasn’t reckless. I’d never ever allow her to get hurt. I trusted myself. And from our rock solid hold on each other, I knew she trusted me too. Everything was so perfect. She flew on those lifts, whizzed on those spins. We were so on, so together. The students who’d stayed around to watch, along with the other teachers in the room, broke into full out applause when we finished. There were standing ovations with loud cheers all around. As usual, it was hard for me not to suck up all the applause. That’s just me. But Arabelle did too. The genuine full-out smile on her face was unforgettable. And, did I say she never once flinched? No tremor whatsoever.
Chapter 22
Arabelle
I nailed it. I knew I could. Actually, I hadn’t. I hadn’t known until I saw Duke and Natalia in the studio. I knew what they wer
e doing. I knew Alessia didn’t let them in. She would never. But I didn’t dare let on to them that they were getting to me. I was so above their simpleton bullshit. Sorry.
I’ll just never forget the look in her eyes when she saw me dancing Latin at Blackpool last year, when she won the showdance crown. There was more to our story than onlookers knew. Natalia had been on the ballroom circuit for many years. And she’d lusted after Willem from the first time she met him. She wanted him as both a partner and lover. But he chose me over her. So when she won, those green eyes that had been the eyes of envy were now the eyes of gloating, of angry triumph. If she couldn’t have Willem, she was happy I didn’t either.
She’d made a faux sad face at me after I performed my homage to Willem at Blackpool. But immediately after that, she’d smirked. She was happy he was dead—both because he’d rejected her, and because we’d left the championship wide open for her and Duke. It almost made me wonder if she had something to do with Willem’s accident. I knew she didn’t. But I’d never forgive her for gloating over my pain, my grief.
When I first saw her, of course I felt my stomach drop. Connecting with those horrible green eyes brought back the last Blackpool, then the other Blackpools before. But as soon as Jett strode in, it all went away. I felt warmth. I felt power—even though he had no idea who they were. I now knew what I had to do. I had to write back to the Blackpool organizers and tell them I had a new partner. Jett and I would compete in showdance together.
The routine felt so good, first when we took it gently and slowly, then when we ramped it up and did it full-out. We were both on the same page when we decided which parts to keep soft and lyrical and romantic, and when to unleash our athletic power.
We practiced many times, and I hadn’t felt the tremor once. Not once. Nothing felt so good. Well, not since I’d danced with Willem.
