by J Q Anderson
We ended on the last note with my body bent backward over Marcos’s arm, our lips almost touching as we held each other’s gaze in one last minute of tension. What would it be? Would my character surrender to her lover’s spell? The moment was suspended in the air, the room completely silent, frozen in anticipation. Then Marcos suddenly closed the gap between us and kissed me hard on the mouth, pouring the need and tension from the dance into the kiss. My character surrendered to him, not because she wanted to, but because it was the only thing she could do if she ever wanted to breathe again. I surrendered because I was lost in the moment, and even though Marcos and I were not together, it was the right ending to such a perfect, passion-filled performance.
The room exploded into applause. The audience went crazy, cheering, whistling. Marcos didn’t let go and deepened the kiss. Holy crap. I molded into his arms, completely surrendered, letting him own that moment, letting him own me. People rose to their feet yelling, “Bravo!” Whistling louder.
I finally broke the kiss, and Marcos smiled at me with genuine joy. A rain of white flowers peppered the stage. Marcos held my hand up as we took a bow. He blew a kiss in the general direction of the crowd, then winked at me. I never wanted this moment to end. I was floating away from everything. This is why I danced. All the uncertainty, the physical pain, the constant fight. It was worth it. All of it. Marcos kissed me on the cheek, and we bowed once more before running offstage, our pulse racing with excitement.
In the back room, Marcos hugged me again, so tight I could hardly breath. We were panting, our hearts drumming against each other’s chests. It was the most incredible feeling, so different from the theater performances. This was much more intimate, so much more alive. You could really feel the energy in the room.
Soft knuckles knocked on the door before Misha walked in carrying a huge bouquet of white roses. “For the queen of the evening.” He bowed. “Mr. Vladimir would like to thank you personally. He was quite taken with your performance. Magnificent job, if I may say so.” He smiled as he held the door open for a tall, heavyset man with a thick beard and rosy cheeks. He was handsomely dressed in a tuxedo, and I immediately recognized Vladimir from the pictures I had seen in magazines.
“You were fantastic!” he said in a thick Russian accent, taking both my hands to press a gentle kiss to my knuckles. His eyes were moist. “Camila, you are a true gem.” He then turned to Marcos and shook his hand enthusiastically. “Marcos, I have heard great things about you, but I have to say I am completely astounded.” He looked back and forth between Marcos and me. “I can’t wait to see you both in Giselle. I look forward to opening night. Please join the party as my guests of honor. Help yourselves to whatever you want.” He smiled broadly, then thanked us again before leaving the room.
Misha approached us holding two envelopes. “Your compensation. Mr. Vladimir has added a bonus as a token of his gratitude and hopes you find it suitable. He hopes you enjoy the party. Please let me know if I can get you anything else.” He handed us our payment, then walked out.
Marcos looked into his envelope, quickly counting the money. “Jesus fucking Christ. There are four thousand dollars in here. This is insane.”
“What? Are you serious?” I eyed the thick pad of bills. I couldn’t breathe. Four grand in one hour. “Wow,” I muttered.
Marcos pulled me into his arms. “You were amazing. I had the best time. I’ll talk to Vronsky. I want more solos with you. You’re the most talented dance partner I’ve ever had. And I’ve had lots,” he said, looking into my eyes. The sincerity in his voice was disarming. I blinked through the daze.
“Thank you. You’re pretty amazing too.” I looked down, but he gently tilted my chin up, prompting me to look at him.
“Something changed in the last few days. For me.” His eyes bore into mine. “I feel…a strong connection to you. I care about you.”
“I care about you too. Your friendship means a lot to me.”
“I don’t know…if I like our friends arrangement anymore.” His hand cupped my face.
“Don’t say those things.”
“Why? We could see where this takes us.”
I pulled my chin away. “No. Marcos, you’re with Carla. And I’m dating…someone else.”
“You are?” He frowned.
“Yeah. It’s recent.”
“Who is he?” He let go of my face, his tone hardening.
“No one you know. I’m not one of your playthings. And I don’t like you saying stuff like that when you’re with someone else.”
“Carla and I are not in a relationship right now.”
“Well, I am.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“I told you, no one you know.”
He watched me for a silent moment, then let out a sigh and nodded. “I want you to be happy, Cams.”
“Yeah, I know.” I half smiled, glad that Sebastián was in my life. The old me, the one who suffered through all of Marcos’s emotional whiplashes, would’ve been devastated that Marcos hadn’t even put up a fight. “Go on,” I said. “Go have fun.”
“Yeah.” He picked up his coat. “Maybe I’ll go find a rich blonde and get laid. I’ve earned it.”
“And there he is again. My old friend.”
He chuckled, throwing his coat over his shoulder. As soon as he left the room, I plopped into an armchair, closing my eyes and letting the adrenaline from the performance wash through me. What a roller coaster. A trail of images from the past few days paraded in my mind: Marcos leading me, holding me firmly as he explained the emotions that went with each step. Eating our lunches together, propped against the empty studio wall, exhausted and drenched in sweat. I had spent so much time with him. Then the kiss tonight, and his words after. Was he just horny? Or was it possible his feelings for me had changed? Why now? I sighed. No, in a few days, things would go back to normal. And it didn’t matter, anyways. I wanted to be with Sebastián.
I sank deeper into the plush seat, fatigue settling in. The night had been a dream. Who knew performing in such an intimate setting could be this fulfilling?
My bliss was interrupted by a firm knocking at the door. I stood and opened it, smiling at the sight of Sebastián, then my smile instantly faded. His jaw was clenched, his eyes blazing. Shit. The kiss?
“You’re here,” I said, looking to somehow break the tension in his expression. He walked past me into the room, running both hands through his hair. Shit. Shit.
“What the fuck, Camila.”
“If this is about the kiss on stage, it was a performance. Nothing else.”
His eyes narrowed. “This is the guy you’ve been spending every free minute with?” His tone was controlled, withholding a storm. I took a hesitant step toward him.
“Marcos and I are friends, dance partners. Nothing more.”
“Good to know.” He sneered. “You let all your dance partners kiss you that way?”
“My relationship with him is not romantic. We were just in the moment and that’s…Marcos,” I said, failing to sound convincing even to myself. Squeezing the back of my neck, I looked down. “Listen—”
“No. You listen.”
I flinched.
“I’m not a goddamn fool,” he said. “The chemistry between you and that guy is bold. I saw the way he looked at you, the way he handled you, the way he fucking kissed you. He wants you.”
“I want you.”
“This is not a game to me, Camila.”
“It’s not a game to me either. There’s nothing but friendship and work between Marcos and me. It was just a kiss after an…intense dance. That’s all. It didn’t mean anything, I swear.”
He turned to face the window, his hands interlaced behind his head. Under his controlled demeanor, his body radiated tension. Dammit. Just when things were starting to get good between us. The sudden thought of losing Sebastián tightened my chest. I walked to him and hugged him from behind. He didn’t move, so it felt awkward.
�
�We’re dancers. Like…actors. Please don’t be mad. I’m with you. There’s nobody else.” I moved around to face him and circled my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry about the kiss. I get it. I would feel the same way if the tables were turned. But you have to trust me.”
He looked at me, his expression unreadable.
“Look,” I said. “You won’t like what I’m about to say, but I don’t want to keep things from you, especially after this. Marcos… is staying at my apartment at the moment, but he’ll move out at the end of the month.”
His features hardened a fraction. “Wow,” he said in a low, controlled tone. “This just keeps getting better and better.”
“That’s all there is. I just wanted you to know. Don’t let this come between us,” I said, carefully placing my palm on his chest. “I haven’t seen you for so long. I’ve missed you.” He didn’t move; he just pinned me under his icy glare. “You’re overreacting,” I said.
His eyes narrowed fractionally. “If you haven’t figured it out already, I don’t like to share.”
“What are you, four?”
“Fuck. This is not a fucking joke. I told you my personal life is extremely private. I don’t easily let people in either. I thought we had something here.”
“We do.”
“I want him gone. Out of your apartment. Tonight.”
“You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“You expect me to kick my friend out? Tonight?”
“That, back there. That’s not a friendship.”
“That’s crazy. I’m not going to do that because of a stupid kiss that was part of a performance. Give me a fucking break. Besides, it’s Nata’s apartment.”
“You’re not going back to that apartment if that guy is living there,” he snarled.
“You can’t order me around. I’m not one of your bodyguards.”
“He wants to get in your pants, Camila,” he snapped. “Are you that fucking naïve that you don’t see that?”
“This conversation’s over.” I turned around, but he snatched my arm.
“He wants you.”
“Let go.”
He immediately did, and I hastily slipped into my coat, avoiding his eyes. A knot swelled in my throat. This was the price I had to pay to be with him? Kick Marcos out in the middle of the night? It was so insanely ridiculous.
“That guy,” he said, pointing at the door where Marcos had left, “wants you, and the fact that you minimize it concerns me.”
I looked at him defiantly. “I’m not minimizing anything. Marcos is just a flirt, and even if you’re right, the feeling is not mutual. If we’re together, you have to trust me.”
“After what I saw back there, I don’t fucking know what to trust.”
I reached for my bag and threw the rest of my things in it. Way to put an end to a dreamy night, asshole.
“I’ll take you home.” His tone was stern, commanding, slicing me. I squeezed my eyes tight and clenched my teeth.
“No.”
Without turning, I stormed out, slamming the door. The hell if I was going to let some egomaniac order me around. I practically ran outside, wiping the mascara off my eyes as I rushed through the guests toward the entrance. At the main foyer, I stumbled into Vladimir. He held my arms, searching my eyes.
“Krasivaya devushka. You are shaking. Are you all right? Did somebody upset you, darling?” He frowned, his plump cheeks turning a deep crimson.
“Oh, no, of course not.” I forced a smile. “It’s been a very long week. I just need to go home. Thank you for the invitation and for your generosity. It’s been such a pleasure to dance here tonight.”
His expression softened. “The pleasure was all mine. I’m sorry you must leave so soon. Please allow Misha to drive you home.” His eyes were warm, and I had to swallow the knot in my throat so I wouldn’t bawl in front of him.
“That won’t be necess—”
“I insist. It’s the least I can do. Thank you again, darling. You were truly magnificent,” he said, kissing my knuckles.
Misha appeared from nowhere and offered me a hand in an old-fashioned manner. The small gesture rushed new tears to my eyes. I placed my hand on his, and he walked me to a limousine. Through the tinted window, I glanced up at the house. Sebastián stood next to Vladimir, looking in my direction. Knowing he couldn’t see me through the tinted window, I let the tears spill. This was not the way I had imagined the night to end.
Closing my apartment door behind me, I kicked off my shoes and dodged a pile of clothes as I charged to the kitchen cabinet for the booze. I gulped down a long swig of warm vodka straight from the bottle, letting it burn my throat. Closing my eyes, I leaned back on the fridge, wondering how tonight’s dream, an evening I had been waiting for so many days, had turned so sour.
I lumbered to my room and stripped off my clothes, letting them drop to the floor. I dug in my drawer for shorts and my David Bowie long-sleeve shirt, a comforting memory from a trip to England with my brother, Javi. It had been my first concert, and I really wanted to get a shirt, but they were forty euros and we were poor backpackers. We had been saving for months for the tickets. But Javi said I needed to remember that concert, so he pulled out the last wad of banknotes from his pocket and bought me the shirt.
I pulled the pins out of my hair, shaking my head brusquely to relieve my scalp from the tight hairdo. In the mirror, the beautiful woman from a few hours ago was replaced by a pathetic ho with smudged mascara under her pink, puffy eyes.
I curled in a corner of the couch, ignoring the mess Marcos and I had made over the last few days, and stared blankly at the TV, surfing through the channels for nothing. My mind kept going back to Sebastián storming into the room and turning my dreamy night into shit. Damn him. Fresh tears burned my eyes and I let them spill.
The sound of the knob turning in the front door startled me. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. Shit, who was it? My heart pumped hard in alert. Nata wouldn’t be back till Sunday, and Marcos was surely heavy into partying with some expensive blonde. I pushed back into the couch, holding my breath.
Marcos laughed as he stumbled in, tugging an exotic blonde creature by the hand. His scarf hung loose over his half-buttoned shirt, and she was wearing his hat. On impossibly high pumps, she unsteadily followed him in. Her dress was so small, half her boobs spilled out like toothpaste.
I sighed heavily. “Dude, I said no girls here. Take it somewhere else.”
“Oh, shit. I didn’t think you’d be here. Sorry, babe. This is Sonia—”
“Cynthia,” she corrected in a high-pitched squeak.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He chuckled, flashing her a smile before turning back to me. “I just wanted to get out of this suit and I—Hey…” He frowned. “What’s wrong?” He rounded the couch and sat beside me, his eyes creased with worry. Or at least I hoped it was worry, because I hated pity.
“Nothing. Shitty night.” I wiped my nose. “Go on, get out of here. I’m fine.”
He stayed there, watching me.
“Go have fun, you earned it, remember?” I said, faking a smile, though I didn’t want him to go. Flashy Boobs tapped an impatient shoe behind us.
Marcos stood and without looking away from me, handed her the wrap she had tossed on the couch.
“I’ll call you tomorrow S—Cynthia. I forgot there’s something I need to do tonight.”
She narrowed her eyes and snagged the wrap off his hand. “You’re an asshole. Don’t even bother calling me. Like, ever.” She stormed off, slamming the door behind her.
Marcos ignored her and moved closer. He sat and wrapped his arms around me. “What is it? You were so happy when I left you back there.”
I cried on his shoulder, like a kid, but it felt good to cry. In that moment, all the love for Marcos that I had buried so deep inside me broke through the layers of packed dirt. I didn’t understand anything anymore. If Marcos and I weren’t meant to be together, why was
he the only constant in my life? Always there, hug ready. Now he had turned down a well-deserved lay.
“Tell me what happened and let’s get shit-faced. I think we have vodka.” He pulled me up by the hand and tugged me to the kitchen.
“I’m way ahead of you. The bottle’s on the table.”
There weren’t any clean glasses left, so he poured straight vodka into coffee mugs. I told him about Sebastián, about the fight.
“Shit. I’m sorry. The kiss, I know. But shit, it felt right. It was the right ending, too, you know? And it felt so good to be there with you.”
I smiled weakly. “It did.”
“Cams,” he said, wiping a tear with the pad of his finger. “Those things I told you tonight…I meant them.”
What the fuck. “Marcos…I don’t think I can take an ounce more of anything tonight.”
“Fuck, it’s my fault. It’s just…you looked so hot in that tight tango skirt. And you know me.” He gave me a lopsided smile. “I can be a Neanderthal sometimes. I’m sorry.”
“Look, your friendship is important to me. I won’t let Sebastián set the boundaries, but I’m not one of your girls either. For fuck’s sake, you were with someone else ten minutes ago!”
“Fine. Fine,” he said, raising his palms in apology. “I agree. It’s just…fuck. Sorry I ruined your night with your man.”
“You didn’t. He was being an ass.”
“But you like him.”
“Yeah. But it may have just turned into the shortest relationship in the history of relationships.” I took a long swig of vodka, welcoming the burning sensation as it traveled through me.
“Come on, don’t be so dramatic. I gotta say…I’d be fucking pissed if you were my girl and some asshole kissed you like that. Would’ve beaten the shit out of him. Plus, you can’t really blame him, I mean…most dudes find this totally threatening.” He winked, gesturing at himself. “Ah, he’ll get over it. Fucking cheers, babe. We were fucking amazing. Nobody can take that away from us. Come on. Let’s get hammered and watch shit TV, just you and me.”
“Thanks for being here. I don’t know how, but you always make me feel better. How do chicks resist that shit, huh?”
