No, he wasn’t. His fingers were there. His palm. His height and breadth and body weretechnicallywhere they should be, but Nate? Nate wasn’t there. Not the way he had been. Not the wayhe was when he caught her in their contemporary routine, like she was an angel and he couldn’t bear the thought of her going back to heaven without him. Not the way he’d looked at her in the shower when she broke that night.
His gaze slid past her shoulder, fixed somewhere safe. Somewhere she wasn’t. A micro-twitch of his hand, like he wanted to pull her closer and couldn’t risk it, his body remembering what his brain was trying to forget. This wasn’t just awkward. This waswe faked dating and accidentally caught real feelings and now we don’t know how to be in the same room without bleeding.
Holly didn’t have the first clue how to fix it. She’d tried talking to him in the car the day before, and he’d shut her down before leaving. So she did what she always did when everything turned to shit. She danced. She led him patiently through the beginning figures of their routine. Every second made her miss the version of him who used to talk with his hands, laugh with his chest, and hold her like he wasn’t afraid of what it meant.
When they broke apart at the end of the phrase, she held on for a half-second longer than necessary. Fingers curled loosely in the space where his hand used to grip without hesitation.
“I miss my favorite dumb jock,” she said softly, aiming for light, landing closer toplease come back.
Nate glanced at her then. Brief. Measured. The corner of his mouth lifted, but barely. A flicker of a smile in a face masked with hockey himbo attitude.
“He’s busy learning the Tango,” he said.
And thenhe turned away. Closed.
He moved to their little table to grab his water bottle as though admitting she missed him hadn’t cost her pride, oxygen, and at least three years off her life expectancy. Holly stood there a beat too long, arms hanging useless at her sides, breath still trying to catch up to a rhythm he’d already abandoned. Her hands were warm with the ghost of him, muscle memory refusing to stand down. She hated how badly she wanted him to look back, to acknowledgesomething, and how he absolutely, devastatingly didn’t.
They spent the next hour drilling technique. Staccato walks, sharp pivots, violent head snaps that should’ve left her breathless, feral, lit on fire. Tango was supposed to be heat and danger, the art of barely restrained want, all crackle and threat and promise. It was meant to burn. Instead, Holly felt nothing but a deep freeze settling in her chest, burrowing into the space where he used to be.
Nate didn’t tease when she stumbled. Didn’t flirt when she got close. When their hands brushed, he recoiled as if he was bracing for a blow he already knew how to survive. She didn’t blame him.
Not after the press, and the way she’d let that moment spin out instead of speaking up. Cameras flashing, reporters poking at scars with smiles on their faces. She hadn’t defended him fast enough. Loud enough.At all.Now, he was dancing like it was armor. And she was the one who’d handed him the fucking chainmail.
She caught his reflection in the mirror with his broad shoulders squared, jaw tight, eyes locked on his footwork like nothing else existed. And for a split second, it was like staring at the version of him she’d met that very first day. The one who kept everything in. Who didn’t joke. Who didn’t trust.
Like the real Nate—who chirped her through wardrobe fittings, kissed her like prayer, who told her she was the fire and meant it—was trapped behind glass again.
Watching. Waiting.Bleeding.
In the far corner of the studio, Martin leaned silently against the wall scribbling something on a notepad. Holly didn’t have to ask what. Becauseof coursehe saw it too. This wasn’t just a tense rehearsal. It was a storyline.
@glitterballconfessionals on Instagram:
Y’all. This week’s rehearsal footage has no business hitting like a divorce filmed in slow motion.
No teasing. No flirting. Just vibes. Sad, sexually repressed vibes.
#tangno #natelookedsocold #someonepleasehugholly
PopSugar Online:
Two to Tango? Nate and Holly’s Rehearsal Has Fans Worried
After weeks of steamy chemistry and undeniable connection, this week’s behind-the-scenes rehearsal left fans stunned and not in a fun, glittery way. Gone were the cheeky banter and suggestive smirks. Instead, Holly Martinez and Nate Eriksson moved like strangers who used to be in love and weren’t sure if they were allowed to be again. Was it just method acting for the Tango?Or are we…READ MORE →
@ttftldr on Tiktok:
he used to hold her like she was gravity
now he won’t evenlookat her
don’t talk to me unless you’ve had a man stop dancing like he wants you
#takethefloor #hollyandnate #tangotension
40
BENCH ME, HEART
