Page 19 of With You

“Do you want to try doing a few lifts?” River suggests, locking my phone and handing it to me. “Maybe it’s better if we go back to basics.”

I stand in answer, flexing my feet as I stretch my limbs again. It’s like my entire body was coiled tight while I sat next to River and now it’s trying to find release the only way it knows how. I put my phone back down next to his, starting the video recording again. River stands in the centre of the room, hands on his hips as he waits for me to come back to him. He tenses his fingers slightly, almost as if he’s testing how he’ll hold me.

I take my place in front of him and watch in the mirror as he lifts his hands toward me.

“Can I put my hands on your waist?”

“Of course.”

I’ll need to get used to it if I want to stand any chance of passing this audition. I take a deep breath as River’s hands fasten around me once again, but my entire body tenses as his fingers press into the thin fabric that separates our skin. River pulls away instantly, putting his hands behind his back.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, taking a small backward step away from me.

“No, it’s not you,” I tell him, clenching my teeth together as I try to force the words out. “I just…”

A frustrated groan escapes me as I cover my face with my hands. How can I explain that I don’t know if I like being touched like that? That I’ve never had a boy’s hands on me, never experienced any kind of intimate affection like that from someone? It’s nothing I should be embarrassed about, and if this was anyone else, I wouldn’t be as apprehensive about telling them. But showing that kind of vulnerability to River? I don’t know if I can do that.

“I haven’t danced with anyone in a very long time,” I confess, dropping my hands to my side, and giving him a version of the truth that doesn’t expose myself too much. “I’m not used to it.”

“Me either,” River replies.

It’s only then I realise I can’t recall the last time I saw River dancing with someone. When we were much younger, he was forced to perform a few pas de deux during classes as he was the only male dancer. That stopped as we grew up and more boys joined, and he was able to refuse.

“Can I try something?” he asks.

River’s hands are behind his back, and the expression on his face is one I’ve never seen before. All his sharp edges look softer, his jaw not held as tightly as it usually is, and a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. I nod, moving closer to this new version of River who might actually help me solve my problems.

“I think we need to get used to touching each other first, before we try any big moves,” he says. “What do you think?”

“I agree,” I say, knowing that I was too optimistic in thinking this would be something we could perfect quickly.

“Okay. Touch me.”

I have to stop my eyes from popping out of my head at hearing those words. He says them so seriously, holding his arms out to the side, inviting me in closer to him. Although it’s what we’ve been trying to do for the past hour, hearing the words makes it feel all too real. I have to touch River. I have to dance with River. I have to kiss River.

I compose myself again, hoping he can’t read the panic and unease on my face. I need to stop thinking about it, so I take action instead, lifting my hand to touch his arm. It’s the safest spot I can think of, but the closer I get, I can’t stop my hand from curling into a fist. I dig my fingernails into my palm, steadying myself as I loosen my hand, fingers tentatively reaching out. My index finger trails from the top of his arm, solid and warm, down to the bend in his elbow, his forearm, his wrist, his hand. I trace my fingers over his knuckles, and his hand mimics mine from just a few moments ago, his fingers folding in.

I pull away, retracting my hand behind my back. I’ve made him uncomfortable somehow, touched him too slowly, too intimately, in all the wrong places.

“Sorry,” he says, his hand flattening out against his stomach. “Just wasn’t expecting you to do that.”

I wasn’t either.

There are more parts of River I’ll have to touch. I’ll have to get used to his arms around me, his hands holding me, his legs grazing against mine, his cheek close to my cheek, his lips on mine. And if we’re ever going to reach a stage where that’s possible, where I can safely perform this routine without freaking out, then I’ll need to start somewhere.

“You can touch me, too,” I tell him before I can overthink it.

“Are you sure?” he asks, concern undercurrent in his voice.

I’m not used to this River, one who is starting to make me think he might actually care about me in some way. I want to go back to our biting remarks, our disdain for each other that’s still laced with a hint of respect.

“Scared of me, River?”

“Never that, ma chérie,” he replies quickly, that annoying smirk finding its way on to his annoying face after being missing this whole time. Finally, we’re getting back to normal.

He lifts his hand slowly, fingertips grazing mine as he works his way up my hand to my wrist, curling his fingers around it for just a second before continuing upward. Goosebumps erupt over my skin as he moves from my forearm, to the crease in my elbow, to the top of my arm, to my shoulder. I expect him to stop there, my entire body already feeling like it’s on fire, but he keeps going as I hold my breath.

River’s fingers drag leisurely against my shoulder, finding their way to the base of my neck. His index finger lifts up to graze against the bottom of my ear before it moves to my jaw, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from doing I’m not even sure what. My eyes close of their own accord, my breathing uneven and my heart beating rapidly as River continues to touch me in a way no one else ever has. He takes my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up to his, and for a split second it’s as if I can feel his breath across my lips, as if he might be about to kiss me.