Page 46 of Ice Dance

It wasn’t often someone said something that left me groping for what to say. I didn’t want to reply, I realized. I wanted to dance, and dance hard. Prove Casey wrong. Prove them all wrong.

Hasegawa noticed I’d gone quiet and looked over. The corner of his mouth ticked, his small smile hooking in, softening his whole face and bringing back the warmth in his eyes.

“The argument,” I said. “Middle part. It’s savage. Let’s show Dylan that, so there’s no doubt.”

“Agreed.”

We got to work.

NINETEEN

REN

That simple Monday afternoon, in the ramshackle studio, turned out to be one of the most freeing dance sessions I’d ever experienced. After finding Navarro wired on arrival, it had become clear that he’d needed to work something out before he’d be able to focus. And so that’s what we’d done.

I’d come out of that cha-cha-cha dance more alive than I’d ever been with Alisha. The only other time I’d felt a connection like it, had been with Navarro during selection week. But even that had been brief. This time, we’d held it for the entire song. From that spark, the fire had lit, and we’d gone up in flames. Astonishing. He’d left my body buzzing and hungry for more. I hadn’t known until then that I could feel such passion, such connection, dancing with a man.

After that, the barriers came down, and we worked on the argument section of the new routine, beginning to pull steps in that would reveal two people metaphorically clashing on the ice. We quickly settled on the passionate Paso Doble for inspiration. An aggressive, sensual, spectacular dance off the ice, that could translate brilliantly to the drama of ice dancing with deep curves, toe spins, and trough kicks. Technically difficult, but highly theatrical. It should be a judge-pleaser and a crowd-pleaser.

By the end of the day, with Dylan watching, we had a small sequence that spoke for us, found the heat we’d been summoning all day, and went for it.

When done, we were both left drenched, panting, and with little left in us to go again. But the fire in Navarro’s eyes said it had been worth it.

Dylan stood speechless for a minute, thinking hard. “If you can take that, and translate it to on ice, we’re winning this competition.”

A smile broke out across my face. Navarro swooped in, threw an arm around my waist and pulled me in close, slick skin on skin. We’d been close all day; this wasn’t any different. Except it was. Because we weren’t dancing. I threw an arm around him, as though it were natural, and the pair of us breathed close for less than a second, my mouth in his wet hair, our chests pressed close. The embrace, if that’s what it was, ended as soon as it had begun, but mingled with the elation of Dylan’s appraisal, it left me feeling lightheaded. It was probably a lack of calories. We hadn’t eaten much all day, too engrossed in work to stop, just a few protein bars.

“Let me get you two some dinner. Takeout. What’s good around here, where we won’t get mugged,” Dylan said.

Navarro chuckled. “There’s a pizza place at the end of the block. Outside seating. It’s someone’s back yard, but they serve the best pizza you’ll get within eight miles of Montreal Central”

“Someone’s back yard sounds very on brand for today,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

We left the studio and walked to the pizza place, which was indeed someone’s back yard with a dubious health and safety certificate pinned to a tree. Summer had hold of Montreal, making the nights close, and sitting outside, eating pizza from napkins, drinking from mismatched glasses, continued the theme of the day. A theme I was beginning to thoroughly enjoy. Navarro’s life was messy, just like the man.

Someone recognized Navarro, came up to our bench-table and chatted with him for a few minutes. Everyone seemed friendly, approachable, and nothing like the aggressive graffiti outside suggested.

We ate, and talked, loose and relaxed. It felt good. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed a meal out, including the noodle restaurant a few days ago, which I’d almost walked out of twice.

With the pizza finished and glasses almost empty, we were close to finishing for the night.

Dylan leaned over the table. “I’m impressed by both of you today.”

“Did you doubt us?” I asked.

“Yes,” Dylan admitted with only a slight smile. “If I’d flown all the way out here and the pair of you were fighting, I’d have sent you the bill, Ren.”

Navarro snorted.

“Can you blame me?” Dylan asked. “I’ve never worked with such an ill-suited pair.”

I almost laughed too. “Thank you for the encouragement.”

Navarro laughed fully now. He was very different to the man I’d seen that morning. Something had happened between leaving the hotel meeting and arriving at the studio, something that had hurt him. I had no right to ask, and I wouldn’t. But I found myself wanting to know, so that if it happened again, we could work through it. Or perhaps I didn’t need to know the details, just when he needed an escape. I didn’t mind being that escape for him.

“I’m going to head back. Are you two done for the night?” she asked.

Navarro’s gaze caught mine. “I have a little left in me, if Hasegawa wants to stay. Or is it past your bedtime?”