The Guys Are Props Club

by Ingrid Seymour

  Losing interest, my eyes fell on the table in the corner. It held a large stereo and a stack of flyers. I sidled that way and peeked at one. At the top of the page was a logo with the silhouette of a dancing couple. Below, the message read:

  Latin Dance Lessons. Learn salsa, merengue, bachata (whatever that was), rumba and cha cha cha. Professional dancer and instructor Cristina De Leon is backed by ten years of experience. Add some fun to your semester. $200 to sign up.

  Wait. What? No way!

  I didn’t have two hundred dollars. I needed to get out of there. Slowly, I turned to face the group. They were all distracted in lively conversation. Jessica had Sebastian smiling from ear to ear. I could tell she had her charm-o-meter turned up to the highest setting, and it seemed to be working. It was the perfect opportunity to sneak out.

  Side stepping, I inched toward the door. Jessica would be upset when she discovered I had left, but she’d get over it. I was almost to the door when the instructor noticed me.

  “Maddie, are you leaving?” she asked.

  Damn it. “Uh, yes. I really can’t stay.”

  Jessica pulled away from her conquest-to-be. “Of course you can.” She marched up to me, pulled my messenger bag over my head and threw it by the wall.

  I spoke into her ear. “Jess, the class is two-hundred dollars. I can’t afford it.”

  “You worry too much. Just stay. You can decide later.” She grabbed my wrist, but I extricated myself from her grasp.

  “I don’t have the money to pay for dance lessons. It’s not right for me to stay.”

  Cristina popped out from behind Jessica, who was taller than my five-foot-five frame and had obstructed my view.

  “It’s okay. Stay,” Cristina said. “Consider it a trial lesson. If you like it, you can come back. No obligation.” She punctuated her offer with a pretty, genuine smile.

  “You see,” Jessica said.

  I sighed, feeling the flush of embarrassment against my cheeks. I didn’t want anyone doing me any favors, but felt that turning down Cristina’s nice offer would be rather rude. I bit my tongue and forced a smile and a thank you out of my mouth, then gave Jessica a murderous glare.

  “Alright, everyone,” Cristina said, clapping her hands to capture her students’ attention. “Let’s line up. Girls on the left, guys on the right.”

  Jessica pushed me into line. I so didn’t want to be there. Rhythm was something my family’s American genes would have never been able to concoct, not even through wild genetic experimentation.

  “We’re short on men,” Cristina began.

  “Oh no, we’re not,” Jessica murmured, leaning into me and drilling her mischievous blue eyes into Sebastian.

  “But that’s okay,” Cristina continued. “Others may sign up later and, even if they don’t, I can usually enlist a few gentlemen to help me. Like Sebastian here. He’s a volunteer.” She waved at Sebastian, who inclined his head in a gallant gesture and winked.

  It looked like his charm-o-meter was set to the max, too. From what I could tell about him so far, he was the kind who thoroughly deserved what was coming to him, namely Jessica Norton, blonde extraordinaire.

  Cristina sashayed to the large stereo and popped in a CD. “I like jumping right into the lessons. We’re here to dance, not to go over a boring list of dance steps. Sebastian and I will demonstrate the basics really quick, then it’s your turn. We’ll start with merengue.”

  A song with a crazy, fast beat started to play. Spanish voices sang as horns and drums blared, resonating through the room. Cristina walked back, and Sebastian put his hand out to her, standing erect and looking very much like a dancer. His tight, black pants hugged a butt far too shapely for a guy. His gray, button-up shirt was rolled up to the elbows.

  “Ooh, he certainly has poise,” Jessica commented, bumping me with her hip.

  Cristina took his hand, and they glided into position.

  “Has anyone done merengue before?” she asked.

  We all shook our heads.

  “No problem,” Cristina continued. “It’s a very simple dance, which is why we’re starting with it. People say that if you can walk, then you can do the merengue.”

  The instructor explained how to stand and where to place our hands. I drummed my fingers on my arm and started thinking of the much-needed conversation I’d have with Jessica later. She had to stop dragging me to this sort of thing without pausing to ask me first. Sure, we always had fun together, but lately I’d been feeling like we were on completely different wavelengths. She didn’t care about school, partied too much, and was obsessed with pulling Plays. And she never remembered that we didn’t have the same resources. I didn’t have a daddy who catered to my every need and refilled my bank account when it ran low. Hell, I never even met my father, and I didn’t really have a mother anymore—not really.

  I also didn’t want Jessica’s handouts. I knew she didn’t mind financing me—how could she when it wasn’t her money and she wasted it?—but I still wasn’t comfortable accepting it. I needed to concentrate on my classes. My entire future depended on that.

  “Alright, let’s start with Maddie,” Cristina said.

  The what . . . ?

  When I looked up, Sebastian was standing in front of me, flashing that radiant smile and offering me his hand. I froze, my chest flooding with the panic of pure stage fright.

  Chapter 3

  Someone pinched me on the side. “Earth to Maddie.” Jessica laughed.

  On reflex, I put my hand on Sebastian’s, like a puppy that could not resist an invite to shake on it. His warm fingers wrapped around mine, and he pulled me close. The conference room seemed to shrink. I had absolutely no idea what to do. I had missed the entire merengue explanation.

  Noticing how clueless I was, Cristina walked up to us and placed my free hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Now, step from side to side along this line.” Cristina pointed at a strip of masking tape attached to the carpet which I hadn’t noticed before. After explaining, she stepped aside to give us room to move.

  “Right, left, right, left,” she said to the beat of the music, while all I could do was stand there, feeling like a total fool.

  “It’s okay,” Sebastian said. His voice was a deep baritone that, at this close distance, had a rumbling quality. It made me all prickly. I wanted to rub the back of my arms as my hairs stood on end, but all I could do was swallow. “It’s like marching.” He moved his hands and placed them on my waist. I felt terribly self-conscious and was suddenly grateful for the abdominal and oblique exercises I did every morning. With a gentle push, he coaxed my hips to the right, then to the left in time with the music. I stared at his feet, trying to mimic him.

  Letting go of one side of my waist, he took a hand to my chin and lifted it.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  My breath caught in my throat as our gazes locked. His eyes were spellbinding. Soon I found myself thinking that I’d never seen irises of such clear green. The effect their crystalline color had on his pupils was startling. It made them look so dark. So black.

  Suddenly, I felt disconnected from everything. The room, which had already shrunk when his arms engulfed me, now became a tiny pinprick of light in the distance. I had the sensation that I was falling away from it, as if I had stumbled down a bottomless well.

  “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” someone asked. “You must be a natural.”

  Sebastian’s pupils stretched away from me, and I snapped back into the room, feeling breathless. He took a step away and, holding my right hand, gave a small bow and nodded once. Mechanically, I took a few steps back and retreated into line with the other girls.

  “You never told me you could dance like that,” Jessica reproached.

  “I—I can’t. I just . . . followed his lead, I guess.” I rubbed the back of arms and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

  “Would you do me the honor?” Sebastian asked, bowing slightly toward Jessica.
>
  “My pleasure.” Jessica stepped in front to Sebastian, boldly placing a hand on his shoulder and smoothing his shirt in a provocative manner. “Be gentle with me, okay? I’m a klutz.”

  “Alright,” Cristina said. “You’ve seen how it’s done. Partner up.” She circled the room, pairing partners. When two girls ended up together, she instructed them to take turns leading. “We’ll switch couples every few minutes.” Since there wasn’t anyone else, I ended up alone.

  As Cristina made her rounds correcting postures and telling people to stop looking at their feet, I stood aside. I felt flushed. My heartbeat pounded noticeably. The music’s catchy rhythm flowed from one song to the next. Jessica laughed, throwing her head back. Sebastian held her, slightly dipping her backward. He smiled, too. That was until she stepped on him.

  “I told you I was horrible,” Jessica said, correcting her position.

  Sebastian started counting the beats and after only three steps, Jessica stepped on him again.

  He winced. “I think you have to be gentle with me,” he joked.

  They seemed to be having fun, and even as horrible and uncoordinated as Jessica was, they looked good together. While I stared, I wondered how I had looked in his arms. Apparently I’d done well, but I couldn’t remember any of it, only those bottomless eyes that had trapped me in their depths.

  At this safe distance and against my better judgment, I took the chance to examine Sebastian better. I had dismissed him before, the way I had learned to dismiss all guys with handsome faces. But looking at him with more care now, I realized that he was beyond handsome. The word that described him better was gorgeous. He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He stood and moved with the grace of a dancer, while still managing to convey a masculine and commanding air. In all that bodily perfection, however, it was his face that propelled him from the handsome bracket into the gorgeous one. His jaw was strong and chiseled, his cheekbones high, and his straight nose perfectly proportioned. He wore his black hair a little long, and silky strands tickled his forehead when he turned his head. Add to all of that those impossible green eyes, and voíla: A lethal combination.

  I stopped short. What was I doing?

  Good God. I really, really had to get out of there. Quickly! I looked around for the exit, but just as I made toward my messenger bag, Cristina stopped me again.

  “Now that everyone’s got the hang of it, I’ll be your partner,” she said, grabbing me and setting my hands in the right places. She started to move in place, expecting me to do the same, but my mind was on Sebastian, or more accurately, struggling not to be on Sebastian.

  Since David had inoculated me against the charms of good-looking guys, I hadn’t had these types of thoughts. I felt embarrassed, ashamed of myself. This was a betrayal of the promise I’d made over a year ago. I couldn’t indulge in frivolous ideas and risk tumbling down that same slippery slope again. This was how it had started, how I ended up thinking that going out with David was a good idea. First, my hormones took over. Then my eyes started drifting toward random, cute guys. Soon my mind was idealizing their few positive qualities, and my heart and body were harboring secret desires. Then David came along—the first attractive guy to show interest in me—and the next thing I knew, I had a boyfriend who didn’t love me, one I wished I’d never met.

  Now, here I was admiring Sebastian, my traitorous eyes indulging in his few positive qualities. Okay, not few, actually many, but still. I couldn’t let that happen. If I wasn’t careful, soon I’d be trying to convince myself that dating was a good idea, natural, and that I had needs. My stomach churned, repulsed at the thought.

  Needs?! I shook my head. Animals had needs. I had priorities.

  “Ouch,” Cristina said, pulling her foot from under mine.

  “Sorry,” I murmured.

  True, my hormones were darn difficult to deal with. They did things to my body that I couldn’t control, but my rational brain had to prevail over those primal desires. I had done it so far, all by following a simple rule: Don’t look at cute guys.

  Sebastian winked at me from over Jessica’s shoulder. I tore my eyes away. Damn!

  “Ouch,” Cristina complained again.

  I apologized once more.

  She pulled away, smiling. “No worries,” she said, turning to the class. “Okay gang, time to change partners.”

  I ended up with Jessica. “You lead,” she said. “No way am I playing a guy’s part.” She smiled wickedly.

  The irony of her joke should have made me laugh, since she was always saying, “to Play a guy, a girl has to play his part.” This basically consisted of treating men like cheap, well, props, then discarding them—the same way a girl discards a tampon. For me, that analogy went too far, but that was Jessica. She liked imagery.

  But I didn’t find her comment funny. I was too busy trying to regain control of my eyes, which Sebastian seemed to have magnetized.

  “Isn’t he an absolute caramel?” Jessica asked, following my gaze.

  “Who?” I pretended to be looking at Cristina as she instructed Sebastian’s new partner.

  “Sebastian, who else?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s . . . good looking.”

  “Good looking?” Jessica looked appalled. “That would be like calling the sky blue when it is clearly celestial.”

  “That doesn’t even make much sense.”

  “It absolutely does.”

  I skipped to avoid Jessica’s checkered stiletto, which would have come crushing down on my TOMS.

  She held her thumb and index finger up. “I’m this close to getting him to ask me out.”

  “Really? After a five-minute conversation?”

  She always got guys to ask her out pretty quickly, but this had to be some kind of record. Still, I shouldn’t have been surprised. It was a known fact to all G.A.P. members and also stated in Rule No.14 of the G.A.P. Playbook that a guy’s sluttiness is directly proportional to the level of his egotistical good looks. And in most cases, inversely proportional to the size of his . . .

  After a moment, I became aware of a strange prickly feeling inside my chest. It was vaguely familiar, something I hadn’t felt in a while. It took me aback when I realized what it was.

  Jealousy.

  “Is everything okay?” Jessica asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I blinked.

  “I think I have,” I said, more to myself than to Jessica.

  She raised an eyebrow and was about to say something when Cristina announced, “Change partners again.”

  It was our turn to end up with one of the other girls or the other guy, so I was surprised when Sebastian walked up. Jessica puffed her chest out, her mouth going up in a sultry, lopsided smile. Yep, she was setting a record.

  I froze when Sebastian extended a hand my way. “You’re next, Maddie.”

  Jessica’s smile died a slow-motion death.

  Chapter 4

  Sebastian’s extended hand was like a snare set by a skilled hunter, ready to capture helpless bunnies. I refused to take it.

  When I didn’t accept the offer, he was undeterred. Stepping in front of me, he took my hand and gently coaxed my body to follow the rhythm of the music. I gave in, hypnotized by those eyes.

  “I was tired of getting my toes stepped on,” he joked, a wry smile on one side of his mouth.

  I made a semi-amused noise in the back of my throat, thinking of how to get away. He lifted my hand above my head and twirled me. I felt my body spin in a tight circle, then I was back in the cradle of his arms, dazed, escape plans evaporated.

  “So admit it, you’ve taken lessons before,” he said.

  I shook my head.

  “You really are a natural then?”

  I shrugged.

  Sebastian frowned and looked at me as if he was reevaluating me. He was probably starting to think I was a Neanderthal who could only communicate in shrugs and grunts. Damn if I was going to let a guy render m
e mute. I am not one of those airheads struck smitten at hello. I wouldn’t lose my immunity to some devilish jerk, no matter how bewitching the shade of his eyes.

  I cleared my throat. “I’ve never taken lessons, but I doubt I’m a natural. Your toes are in mortal danger.” At first, there was a small squeak in my voice, but with every word my I.Q. seemed to get closer to normal.

  Sebastian laughed, a clear and unaffected sound that was infectious. He seemed to have liked the banter. I guess I should have kept my mouth shut.

  “So Maddie, tell me about yourself. What are you majoring in?”

  “Nursing,” I said, taking a peek at his face. I forced myself to look at him objectively, rationally. He was gorgeous, put together with an attention to detail that seemed purposeful, not the result of random gene coupling. But beauty, in my experience, is only skin deep. Inside, he was probably the equivalent of a rotten egg, and when his insides spilled out in the open, which was only a matter of time, they would be unsightly and foul. That imagery made my brain click back to normal, putting Sebastian Capello and his charms in their proper, irrelevant place.

  “Nursing, huh? Interesting. You must be the good-hearted kind,” he said without mockery. In truth, I sensed some admiration in his voice, which admittedly took me by surprise.

  Whatever opinions of me he was building, I needed to debunk them. “I don’t know about that. The real plan is to become a doctor. I’m taking all the pre-med requisites. Nursing is a back-up plan, in case that doesn’t work out,” I hastily explained, hoping he would dismiss me as a greedy doctor-wannabe.

  “And the list keeps growing,” he said.

  I looked at him questioningly, trying to catch his meaning.

  As we danced across the floor, Sebastian started counting by tapping his fingers against the back of my hand, which he was holding upward as required by the merengue pose.

  “Good-hearted.” He tapped his index finger. “Modest.” He tapped his middle finger. “A good head on your shoulders.” Ring finger. “And last, but not least,” he tapped his pinky, “a good dancer.”