Ollie seems utterly unphased. “Well, if you want to get back with him, then that’s good, I guess. If you’re sure he’ll treat you well.”
She waves a hand. “Oh, it’s not like we’re dating.” She glances at Connor across the room as he dances with Paula Reyes, doing one of his beautiful, long-lined moves. “He’s an absolute nightmare as a boyfriend. I just want to be at a school where I can teach.” She looks between us. “And are you two back together? That’s great. I’m really happy for you guys.”
“Thank you,” Ollie says. Ollie wishes her well, smiling, but I can’t quite bring myself to follow suit. I wear a facial expression that’s the equivalent of my ‘Cordially yours’ email send-off.Andgood luck to you, Eliana. May you fall off a pier into the Pacific Ocean.
As soon as we step away, Ollie pulls me onto the floor and spins me into his arms to dance with me. This time feels even better than before: I can finally keep up with most of his moves. I can enjoy myself rather than counting steps. I can be happy that we finally ended up here, both of us hopeful, and tired, and full of joy, coming back into each other’s arms like there’s a string between us that won’t ever break.
He draws me closer and leans into my ear. “When you were dancing with Connor, I was so jealous. And then you were with that blond guy.”
“Ben? We’re just friends.”
“He was here all weekend, talking to you. And then you left with my brother!”
“Is your brother really getting a divorce?” I ask.
Ollie shrugs. “I don’t know. But it made me realize I should probably see my parents. I think Sean’s been doing too good a job of getting them on his side, and it’s my turn to defend myself a bit. Do you want to come along? See my nouveau riche origins?”
“As long as you won’t be embarrassed by me.”
Ollie looks appalled. “Embarrassed by you? I’m horrified by them. My father is the kind of man who owns three Porsches and will ask about your ethnicity within five minutes.” He breaks into an imitation of his father’s accent. “‘Where ya from, Laura? With that dark hair, you have to be what, Italian? I slept with an Italian lady once. Nice girl.’ And then watch my mother doing the math in her head, trying to figure out if the Italian woman was before or after they were married.” Ollie wears a tight smile. “You’ll have to be very tolerant not to want to dump me just for asking you to deal with them for an afternoon.”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m not leaving you.”
His eyes look soft. “I trust you,” he says quietly.
We dance for a couple of songs and then split up to dance with other people… but only, as Ollie said in my very first lesson, so we can come back together again, all mistakes forgiven.
“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper into his ear when we are back in each other’s arms.
I say goodbye to Ben, who is dancing with the cute woman with long braids who danced with him once at Manhattan Swing. I say goodbye to Helen, who is dancing with her Jack & Jill partner, and I say good-bye to Jody, who is gazing into Jaana’s eyes as they spin around each other.
Jody just waves me off. “Yeah, yeah, get out of here.”
This time, Ollie and I go to my place; Ollie insists. It is a Sunday, so if we spend the night together, one of us is going to have to have to get up at 6 a.m. to return to their apartment and get a proper set of work clothes, and Ollie doesn’t want it to be me.
We decide to take a shower as soon as we get to my apartment, washing off the sweat from a July night in a crowded ballroom. When I am done, I wait for him in my bedroom, feeling giddy and embarrassed. I pull the curtains tight and throw on silk pajamas, unsure what to wear, unwilling to lie in bed naked. He comes into the bedroom wearing only a towel. My whole body reacts to the sight of him: he is so lean and strong, and even his bruised cheekbone adds to his appeal. But he looks different without his beard, younger and sharper. I have a moment of wondering whether I know him at all.
“If you have any emergency phone calls coming in,” he says, “I’d like to request that they arrive in the next few seconds.”
I smile. “Your beard is gone. Was that Eliana?”
He shakes his head. “That was me trying to turn over a new leaf.”
“And did you?”
He sits on the end of my bed near me and hesitates for a moment. “I hope so.” His voice is so quiet that I barely can hear him. I wonder if we are both nervous. Without looking at me, he starts massaging my feet. He is really good at it, probably the result of dating a lot of dancers. I feel a brief flash of insecurity about the women he’s been with before, but I can’t sustain it. There is love in his fingers, kindness in his hands. My whole body starts to melt.
“If that’s your version of foreplay, it’s working.”
He laughs. “Why does it have to be foreplay? Can’t I have a nice, old fashioned foot fetish?”
I laugh as he continues to massage up my calves, up around my knees, up to my lower thighs.
“Massage isn’t your move with the ladies?”
He slides up the bed to look directly in my eyes, his expression so tender that it dazzles me. “I’m not putting the moves on you,” he says. “I’m madly in love with you.” He waits for it to sink in, watching my expression soften. “Okay, I’m madly in love with youandputting the moves on you.”
I laugh and roll onto my side so I can press my entire body against his.
