Dance With Me

by Heidi Cullinan

  He was too tired and too sore to jack off, though, and when the male model gave way to a female, Ed's attention drifted back to dancing and to Laurie.

  Somehow the evening had softened Ed's feelings about him, even when he'd kicked him out for no reason and then called him back to teach him Cuban motion like he wasn't going to sleep if he didn't. He still thought Laurie was a snot. A rich, spoiled snot who was mostly in his way. Except...well, outside of being snippy, he hadn't been a snot tonight. He was just different, that was all. He was a neurotic mess, but he wasn't as arrogant as Ed had been thinking he was. It had been nice of him to give Ed lessons. And once he let go, once he got the corncob out of his ass, he was actually pretty fun. Cute too.

  Not Ed's type, though. Not even close.

  But Laurie changed when he was teaching. He'd been good with the couples—weirdly nervous but good. And he'd been amazing when he'd been teaching Ed about the hip thing. He was better than any coach Ed had ever had on the field, and he'd had some damn good coaches. Laurie made you want to do well, not to please him but to get it right. Except Ed had wanted to please Laurie too. Because as they were doing that last dance, all he could think of was how he wanted to come back and do it again.

  Ed turned off the TV and the light and shuffled back to his bed, moving the ice pack from his pillow and setting it on the bedside table on top of a dirty plate resting on top of a stack of magazines. He took a second to make sure it wasn't all going to topple over, then rolled on his side and stared out across the room into the open door of his closet, where junk was spilling out randomly onto the floor. His eyes fell on a pair of cleats, and he studied them for a minute.

  The thing was, teaching the class at the center had felt good, but dancing with Laurie had felt better. It just wasn't the same to tell other people how to lift weights as it was to lose himself in something. To fight with something and achieve it. To wrestle with his own body and convince it that it could do more than it wanted to. And dancing had been fun. Really fun. Dancing with Laurie, sparring with him—all of it had been fun. And when he'd been doing the rumba with the Cuban motion done right, he'd felt a buzz like he hadn't felt since he quit playing for the Lumberjacks. Like he'd been eating cardboard pizza for five years and gotten used to it, and now somebody had waggled a Chicago-style deep dish under his nose. He had to have more.

  So why the hell hadn't that happened when he'd taken the class with his mom?

  His eyes unfocused as he remembered the way it had felt to take Laurie in his arms, to touch him, to watch him move. He was really good, that much Ed could tell. Laurie made it look so easy. But he made it beautiful too. It was different, dancing with Laurie.

  Fuck, maybe it was just that he was a guy. Ed hadn't ever done that before—danced with another man—not like he had tonight. Sure, he'd ground against a guy at a club. Who the fuck hadn't? But he'd never danced with a guy before. Never held hands and put his hand on a guy's waist as he turned him around, then met him back again for another round. Never had a guy tell Ed to move his hips, to be sexy, to listen to his body, not outside of a bedroom.

  It was like some sort of flip side to football: using his body again, not just building it. Laurie had been pushing him so hard to get that motion right, and it had been a real rush, pushing right back. And it hadn't hurt his neck at all.

  If only Laurie weren't such a sourpuss about everything. And what the fuck was that about, Laurie getting so upset when he found out Ed was gay?

  Of course, Ed was still trying to figure out why he'd told Laurie he was gay in the first place.

  Ed rolled onto his back again, wrestling the sheets into place and arranging his pillow carefully under his neck, trying to ward off further pain incidents. Well, whatever it was that drew him to dancing, he was going to get to do it again in a week. Maybe he could practice a little every night to make sure he didn't forget anything. He'd spend the next week gearing up, and on Thursday he'd even stop by Laurie's class after just to say hi, to show him he was done teasing him and being a shit. And then on Tuesday he'd get lessons again.

  He'd get to hold Laurie again.

  Ed rolled his eyes at himself. But that didn't stop the warm feeling he got when he thought about holding the other man, of moving with him, of spinning him out and catching him when he came back. And it didn't go away, not even when he closed his eyes.

  Thoughts of dancing with Laurie lingered too on Wednesday, even that night when he was out with the guys. In fact, at one point he'd been about to throw a dart when he saw somebody slow dancing with a girl across the bar, and the next thing he knew, the guys were waving hands in front of his face and laughing, asking him if somebody hit his head again. Ed had laughed too, but he'd been faking it.

  He'd been thinking about dancing with Laurie.

  When Thursday came around, Ed found he was excited for his weight class at the center, but he was also eager to see Laurie. Which was just weird. They weren't going to dance. It was just that shit music and Laurie screaming. What the fuck was there to look forward to in that? But Ed was. And this time, when he heard the disco pounding its way into the hall, he didn't grumble at all. He just smiled.

  Until he got into the weight room and heard the disco in there too, louder than it had ever been.

  When Laurie saw Ed come through the door at the back of the gym, he braced for another assault. But no sooner did he gird himself than he remembered dancing with him, of the way he'd charmed the dance class, and his inner fortifications crumbled under a sense of betrayal.

  And then he watched fifteen ragtag young men follow in after Ed, and Laurie faltered midstep, because he had no idea what was happening now, especially when he saw that Ed and his tribe were not approaching the stage but were instead assembling peacefully in an open area back by the bleachers. Laurie let his body move through the aerobic routine on autopilot while his mind tried, and failed, to figure out what Ed was up to. Laurie was still shouting out the beats and instructions, but he wasn't watching to make sure his students were keeping up. All Laurie was doing right now was watching Ed and keeping up a facade of instruction. But after five minutes of this, he still had no idea what in the hell what was going on.

  In his little corner of the gym, Ed had arranged the boys he'd brought with him into a semicircle, and he was speaking to them and gesturing. Sometimes he would raise his hands up above his head and make pumping motions with his arms. Sometimes he would go over to one of them and lead them through some sort of movement, nodding or shaking his head while they did it. Some of them had hand weights, and some had pilates bands or tension cords with handles.

  And if this weren't odd enough, after a few minutes of this, Ed stood in the middle of them and started giving out orders; the others then mimicked his movements, which Laurie realized were keeping a sort of time to the beat of the music.

  It was too early for a break, but when the song finished, Laurie called one anyway. After mopping his face and neck quickly with his towel, he turned off his headset, hopped down off the stage, and wove his way through his students toward the perpetual thorn in his side.

  “—that's good. Good,” Ed was saying to a grim-looking young man with a hot pink bandanna wrapped around his dark-skinned head as Laurie approached the group. “But keep your shoulders back, Duon. Think about the muscle you're working. Set your body, then work just that muscle. If you let your shoulder roll forward, you're going to end up working something different, and you might injure yourself. The music's stopped, but you can make your own beat in your head. Keep regular. That's it. There you go. You got it!”

  Ed looked up, saw Laurie, and smiled.

  Laurie admitted, reluctantly, that it was a very handsome smile. But he didn't smile back, just stood with his arms over his chest, waiting to see how Ed was going to explain himself.

  “Hey, boss,” Ed said, still grinning. He rubbed his thumb across his forehead as if scratching an itch, then cocked his head to the side and put his hands on his hips
, showing off his broad chest as he regarded Laurie. His expression turned rueful. “Suppose you want to know what we're doing in here.”

  Laurie had been about to take him to task for the “boss” comment, but he decided he'd rather know what was going on. “Yes,” he said. He was not interested in being the butt of another one of Ed's jokes.

  But Ed only sighed and nodded at the door to the hallway with an abruptly grim expression. “They didn't fix anything with the sound system. If anything, it's worse. We could barely stand to be in there long enough to get equipment.”

  “What? But Vicky told me—” Laurie looked anew at Ed's students assembled in the corner of the gym. “Wait—this is your class? You brought your class into the gym?”

  “It's the only place left,” Ed said, his voice full of apology. “Not even a racquetball court was open. I checked. But this works enough for tonight. I mean, ultimately I need to get them on equipment, but there are enough basics to work on that we can make do. And the beat helps, in a way. A little hard for them to hear me talk, but we're just taking it slow. Unless—are we bothering you?”

  Laurie stared at Ed for a minute. He still had this vague sense that Ed was putting him on, except now he wondered if that wasn't actually a fear rather than a feeling.

  “We are bothering you.” Ed sighed and rubbed at the side of his cheek. “Well—”

  “Ed?” Laurie cut in, clipping the syllable. When Ed looked at him expectantly, Laurie nodded his head toward the backside of the bleachers and the private nook they provided. “Could I speak to you in private for a moment?”

  Ed blinked, surprised. “Sure,” he said and turned back to his class. “Take a break, guys. Get a drink and stretch.” Then he grabbed a bottle of water and headed off toward the back of the gym, to the place Laurie had indicated.

  Laurie followed, his heart beating hard in his chest and not just from exercise. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say to Ed. All he knew was that he didn't want an audience. So he followed Ed into the corner, hoping to God inspiration struck on the way.

  Ed was still sucking on the water bottle, but he lowered it when Laurie walked up to him. Wiping the back of his wrist across his forehead, he let out a sigh. “I love Vic. I really do. But right now?” He glanced up at Laurie. “I could string her up by her damn PA system.”

  “Ed,” Laurie began, stiffening again, “there's nothing I can—”

  “I know,” Ed said wearily. He shrugged. “I guess we disband the class until she finds me a slot open sometime when your class isn't going, because clearly they aren't going to fix the PA, and if we're bothering you, there's nothing else to do.”

  Laurie faltered. “What?”

  Ed's lips pressed together briefly. “Look, what else do you want? I'm going to dismiss them when they get back from break. I'm giving up the slot.”

  Laurie shook his head, then held up his hands as if the gesture could ward off the confusion. “Ed—you mean, you really just came in here to do your class? You didn't do it to drive me crazy?”

  Ed looked briefly affronted, then chagrined. “Okay. I was going to be all outraged that you'd think that, but I had it coming.” He squared his shoulders and looked Laurie in the eye. “What are you doing after this?”

  Laurie felt like he was missing pages from the movie script, and it was starting to make him angry. “What?”

  “What are you doing after this?” Ed said again, as if Laurie hadn't just shouted at him.

  This only made Laurie more furious. “I'm going home and sticking pins in my Ed voodoo doll.”

  Ed grinned. It was boyish but wicked, and it did uncomfortable things to Laurie's insides. “Can I get you to put that off for an hour so I can take you to dinner?”

  Laurie just stared at him.

  Ed stared back patiently.

  “Do you mean,” Laurie said eventually and very carefully, “that you're asking me out?”

  The grin faded, and Ed's expression became unreadable. “For dinner. To apologize for yanking your chain so often and so hard that you don't believe me when I'm serious.”

  Laurie felt dizzy. He reached out to steady himself on the edge of one of the bleachers, but it didn't help.

  Ed uncapped his water and held it out toward Laurie. “Here,” he said, his voice soft, like he was gentling a wild animal. “You've got to be thirsty. You've been up there shouting and waving your arms for forty-five minutes. Drink up. I'll refill it after.”

  Laurie took the bottle, but he didn't drink. He just stared at Ed until finally he knew what it was he wanted to say.

  “Why?” Laurie asked. “Why are you being nice instead of driving me crazy?”

  Ed's shoulders sagged a little, and then he looked Laurie in the eye and spoke. “Because I went to your dance class. Because you taught me that Cuban-motion thing. Because I really liked it and want to do more, and if you're pissed, you won't let me.”

  Laurie held very still and digested this. And as Ed's words sank in, Laurie admitted to himself, I'm in really big trouble.

  Had Ed actually hit on Laurie, he'd have deflected it without thinking. Whether or not it would have been genuine, Laurie would have told him, no, he was not having dinner, and he'd have let Ed dismiss his class and gone on with his own. Had he felt in Ed a hunger for getting Laurie into bed, Laurie would have sent him on his way. But Ed hadn't hit on Laurie. In fact, there was nothing remotely sexual about the way he was looking at Laurie. There was passion, though. A spark. A light. A mirror to the one inside of Laurie himself.

  Ed Maurer wanted to dance. And he wanted it badly enough to give up the class that even Vicky had admitted to Laurie had been a huge, huge deal to Ed. This wasn't an act. This was the real thing.

  Laurie was in so much trouble.

  He brought the water bottle to his lips and drank, keenly aware of the pressure of the rim against his lips, of the slick wet of the liquid as it slid down his parched throat. He was aware of Ed's eyes on him, watching, waiting, hoping, and the look made Laurie's pulse kick. But Laurie made no move other than to finish the water, every last drop. Then he lowered the bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and handed the bottle back. His eyes never left Ed's.

  “Don't dismiss your class,” he said at last. “You're fine where you are. And don't cancel it either. I'll talk to Vicky about it and find a solution.”

  Ed should have looked relieved, but he didn't. He just took the empty bottle and nodded, waiting for the rest.

  Laurie could feel his heartbeat in his ears. He tried to tell himself he was being ridiculous and theatrical, that he was reading far too much into this exchange, because of course a hulky, bulky jock was not standing there spellbound because he'd fallen in love with dancing after two turns with Laurie on the floor, but the look on Ed's face didn't help this argument at all.

  Play it cool, a quiet, nervous voice inside him urged. Just be careful.

  Laurie cleared his throat. “I'm not free for dinner. But—” He waited while his inner voice told him to shut up, to stop talking now, waited until he had it muzzled enough to continue. “But if you don't mind working late—” He stopped, suddenly uncertain.

  Ed had perked up. “Yes?”

  It was so hard to say the words. And yes, it was ridiculous that he was trembling like he was some stupid turn-of-the-century virgin in a nightgown telling her suitor how to work the trick latch in her bedroom, knowing full well she was just going to leave the casement open and help her lover over the sill. But the truth was Laurie could have had sex right there with Ed, right under the bleachers with both their classes looking on a lot easier than he could cross the mental line he was crossing right now.

  And yet, as he watched himself from the inside of his own head, he was doing it anyway, as if walking into the face of a loaded gun were the most natural move in the world.

  Laurie cleared his throat. “If you come by the studio after nine tomorrow night, I can show you a few more moves after my last class
gets out. Or not,” he added, self-conscious as soon as he'd made the offer. “I mean—”

  “I'd love to,” Ed said quickly, before Laurie could rescind the invitation. “If you don't mind giving up part of your evening.”

  “Not at all,” Laurie replied.

  They stood there a minute, staring at one another.

  It was Ed who broke the silence, clearing his throat as he looked back at the gym, which was growing noisy. “We should probably get back to our classes.” He glanced at Laurie. “You sure we're okay back here?”

  “Yes,” Laurie said. “And I'll wrap up early. We were going to stay late tonight, but I'll just tack on another session at the end to make up for all the disruptions.”

  Ed looked like he was going to protest this, then swallowed whatever it was he'd been about to say and nodded instead. “We gotta figure out what the hell the hang up is with that PA.”

  “I'll take care of it,” Laurie said. “I promise.” He smiled tentatively. “So I'll see you tomorrow?”

  There was nothing hesitant about Ed's return smile. “Absolutely.” He saluted briefly with the water bottle. “Catch you later, boss,” he said and headed off toward the drinking fountain on the wall.

  Laurie watched him go, watched the way his body moved, and he remembered the way it had moved on the dance floor.

  Then he deliberately turned away and headed back to the stage, determined not to think about Ed or dancing anymore for the rest of the evening.

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  * * *

  Chapter Four

  pivot step: a step made forward or in any direction followed by a turn made in place by keeping one foot anchored firmly to the floor.

  Laurie's studio was in a tidy little strip mall in Eden Prairie, sandwiched between an office for the DMV and a store that called itself Tuesday Morning. Ed sat in his car for a few minutes, staring at the name and trying to figure it out, but he didn't have any more luck this time than he'd had last time. Was there something special about Tuesday morning? Was it only open on Tuesday mornings? Except he'd peeked at the hours, and according to them, no, they were open the standard hours of most suburban businesses. He thought maybe the name referenced what they sold somehow, but as far as he could tell, it just sold random department-store stuff: furniture, bedding, appliances. There was no real way he could logically link it to Tuesday, let alone the morning.