Her face morphs into my mind as my eyes slowly shut, and I imagine I’m reaching out to run my finger over the freckles dusting her nose. I’ve let the drugs and alcohol go, but I’ve found a new high, and it may prove to be just as dangerous.
NINE
Vaeda
The studio hums with anticipation, the energy crackling as the four dancers warm up. It’s one of those Saturday mornings where everything feels amplified. The light spilling through the windows is almost too bright, the polished floor reflects too much, and the music, though soft, feels intrusive. My clipboard rests on the small desk by the mirror, but my focus isn’t on the notes. It’s on Mateo and Yvonne.
They stand close together, their heads bent as they speak in hushed tones. Yvonne laughs at something he says, her hand lightly brushing his arm. Mateo smiles in return, his usually serious face softening in a way that makes my chest tighten. They start stretching, their movements fluid and synchronized, their camaraderie easy and obvious.
I glance at Greyson, who’s adjusting the playlist on his phone, oblivious to my growing irritation.This isn’t about jealousy,I tell myself. It’s about professionalism. About focus. Yet when Yvonne playfully nudges Mateo, and he responds with a low chuckle, I feel a sharp pang of envy.
“Alright,” I call out, my voice cutting through the room like a whip. “Let’s get started. Show us your routines. Yvonne and Mateo, you’re up first.”
Adam and Kari sit against the wall, their casual demeanors replaced with honed concentration. Yvonne and Mateo get into position, their Rumba starting with a smooth opening. Yvonne’s movements are captivating, every step sensual, and Mateo matches her pace, his form strong and deliberate. But my eyes are drawn to the way his hand rests on her back, the subtle way her fingers linger on the space between his shoulder and neck.
As the music swells, their connection intensifies, their bodies moving as one. The rhythm is hypnotic, the tension between them palpable. By the time they reach the final pose with Yvonne arching gracefully as Mateo supports her, I’m gripping my clipboard so tightly my knuckles ache.
Greyson claps, his enthusiasm genuine. “Excellent work. You’ve made a lot of progress.”
I force myself to nod. “Good control but, Mateo, you’re still holding back. Your movements need to come from a deeper place.”
He meets my gaze, his brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not just about the steps,” I say, walking toward him. “It’s about the feeling, the emotion behind them. Let me show you.”
Yvonne steps back, her features masked as I take her place. I stand close to Mateo, his presence magnetic in a way that unsettles me.
“Hand on my back,” I instruct, my voice steady despite the flutter inside my chest. He complies, his touch firm but careful. I place my hand on his shoulder, my fingers brushing the nape of his neck. “Now, follow my lead.”
The music begins, a slow and sultry melody that seems to echo in the charged silence of the room. I guide him through the opening steps, our bodies moving in sync.
“Relax,” I murmur, my eyes locked on his. “Feel the music.”
He nods slightly, his grip adjusting as we glide across the floor. The magnetism between us builds with every step, every turn. When I spin away and back into his hold, his hand catches me effortlessly, his firm hold making my breath hitch.
“Better,” I whisper softly, though my voice is barely audible over the music.
We move through the sequence, the rhythm dictating our every motion. He becomes more fluid, his body reading mine like an open book. I move, he moves. I breathe, he inhales. When we reach the dip, his arm supports me with a confidence that sends a shiver down my spine. Our faces are inches apart, his breath warm against my skin, our eyes locked in a moment that feels endless.
The music fades, leaving only the sound of our labored breathing. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves, the charged silence wrapping around us like a cocoon.
“Vaeda,” Greyson’s voice breaks the spell, accompanied by a sharp clap.
I step back quickly, my cheeks flushing as reality crashes in. Mateo straightens, his expression unreadable, but his eyes linger on mine for a moment longer than necessary. I turn away, desperate to regain my composure.
“You’re still a bit too stiff for the Rumba,” I say, my words brisk as I address him. “You need to loosen up, to become one with the rhythm. I suggest taking another class. Something outside your comfort zone. Hip-hop, maybe.”
Mateo raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Hip-hop?”
“It’ll help you find a connection from your heart to the music,” I explain, my tone firm. “You need to feel the rhythm in your body, not just your feet.”
He nods slowly, though I can see the doubt in his eyes. Yvonne steps forward, her expression tight as she glances between us.
“Should we do it again, or are we done?” she asks, her voice sharper than usual.
“Yes, you’re done.” I nod, smoothing my moist palms down the sides of my thighs. “Kari and Adam, you’re up next.”
As Yvonne and Mateo switch places with Adam and Kari, I catch Yvonne glaring at me, her eyes dark with anger. I ignore it, focusing instead on the notes Greyson is jotting down. The energy in the room is thick, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve crossed a line, not just with Yvonne, but with myself.
