Trip the Light Fantastic

by Nicole Bea

  I wait for a moment for the typing bubble to appear, for Lux to argue with me about not finishing our discussion, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything at all. The screen turns dark and never lights up again except for when I check it to make sure I haven’t missed a message. At first, I think my message application might be glitching, but then it strikes me that Lux is probably in his own bed doing the exact same thing. Checking, checking, checking again.

  My dreams that night replay the kiss over and over, and at four in the morning I’m finally awake and in tears from the vividness of the images in my head. There’s no getting back to sleep, so I lie there under my Paris blanket and stare at the stars on the walls, the September wind whistling through the grove outside the window. I’m not sure I feel any better—my eyes still hurt from crying and I feel thoroughly ashamed, both for running off from my performance and also for almost letting Brandon kiss me in a moment of weakness.

  I don’t talk to Lux on Saturday or Sunday. I don’t even leave my room except for lunch and to grab dinner. I skip breakfast both days because I don’t think I can stand the smell of pancakes or the memory of Lux cooking them for me that day at his apartment.

  Monday rolls in with a rainstorm, large droplets pattering against my bedroom window, and I’m glad that my Monday classes don’t involve going outside as Harris Hall joins up with the Ross Building. I’m distracted all day though, maybe by the weather and maybe by the exhibition. Every corner I turn on my way to my classes, I worry I’m going to run into Jenn or Lux or someone from dance who might know that something is horribly wrong.

  That night, in the dark of my bedroom while finishing up my FRE100 homework, I consider seeing if Lux wants to talk, but I decide I need more time. Instead, I peruse his long apology message, trying to read between the lines even though there may not be any lines to read between. Like he has said multiple times, he doesn’t play games. And maybe I should trust that his statement of devotion isn’t a game either.

  But it’s hard. It’s so hard to trust again after Brandon, and now after Jenn’s decided to break through the middle of everything Lux and I had going for us. I don’t message Lux on Monday, I skip dance on Tuesday, and Wednesday I finally talk to Mom again after class to let her know that things are still rocky, but school is going well. Thursday, I don’t bother attending the club meet, considering myself officially dropped out. It’s Thursday evening when Lux finally breaks the silence between us.

  The sky is dark and rainy, and I’m half thinking about Lux and half working on another assignment for FRE100 with my bescherelle in hand when my phone dings.

  Lux: Tu me manques.

  I miss you, he says.

  Chelsea: Tu me manques aussi.

  Lux: Que fais-tu?

  I debate telling him that I was just thinking about messaging him, but I don’t. I’m not really sure of the tone of the text, or how I should infer him speaking to me in French, so I try my hardest to keep things casual without letting him know I’m still dealing with my own emotions.

  Chelsea: Working on FRE100 homework. Trying to conjugate verbs. Someone happened to interrupt me. What are you doing?

  Lux: I know that you probably don’t want to see me or talk to me judging by your absence at dance the last two meets, but we broke it to everyone tonight that the club’s been cancelled.

  Chelsea: Oh, Lux. I’m sorry. I know how much it meant to you.

  Lux: These things happen. I think I expected it, in a way. Doesn’t make it hurt less, but it does take some of the sting off to have had the feeling all along.

  I would have known about the trouble the club was in if I had gone to class or talked to Lux over the last several days. Maybe Jenn thought that the kiss on stage would get some people interested in the theatrics of her dancing. Anything’s possible, I suppose. Either way, I’m a horrible person for not being there when Lux had to deliver his upsetting news to the other club members. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him, on top of everything else.

  Sitting up a little straighter in my desk chair, I type back a message.

  Chelsea: I should have been there.

  Lux: I understand why you weren’t.

  The point isn’t that he understands, but I appreciate the sentiment.

  Lux: Can I see you?

  The message takes me by surprise because I don’t expect him to get straight to the point so quickly. But do I want to see him? Everything in my body screams yes, that I need him and that I’ve missed him and that there’s a hole in my heart where Lux used to be.

  Chelsea: Want me to come over?

  Lux: Please.

  Chelsea: Ten minutes.

  I dog-ear the bescherelle somewhere near the middle of the book, snapping it shut and pushing out my desk chair. I’m in a perfectly acceptable outfit for going to Lux’s—what I wore to class throughout the day—but I wonder if I should try to look more dressed up in order for him to realize what he’s been missing out on. I must stare at myself in the mirror for five minutes trying different hairstyles before I just tie my hair up in a regular ponytail due to the rain, slip on a pair of boots with my leggings, and find my rain jacket piled at the bottom of my closet.

  The walk to Lux’s gives me barely any time to think, which might be for the best because by the time I ring the buzzer at the bottom of the building, my heart is already racing and I’m soaked down to the bone.

  “Chelsea?” Lux’s voice comes over the speaker and it’s such a relief to hear him speak that I feel myself getting choked up.

  “Y-yes,” I stammer. “It’s me.”

  The door buzzes and I let myself in, prodding the button for the elevator and riding it up to the eighth floor, accompanied by a million thoughts rushing through my head. What if he doesn’t really want to fix things? What if he wants to end them? Would it be possible that I misunderstood our whole relationship, the kissing, the dancing, the everything?

  I knock on the door to Lux’s apartment and a moment later, he’s standing before me in a black long-sleeved shirt that hugs his arms. The apartment smells like cinnamon and bread, and Lux lets out a relieved sounding sigh when he sees me.

  “Chelsea.” He breathes my name in such a way that I could collapse into him right now if I wasn’t still angry about the kiss with Jenn.

  “Hi.” The word comes out flat because I’m afraid to put too much emotion into it in case I fall apart.

  “Coming in?”

  “Yeah.”

  I step through the doorway and Lux closes the door. Slipping off my boots and coat, I decide I might as well make myself comfortable and less wet. The atmosphere around us is delicate, like one wrong word or move or expression could break the fractured glass holding us together.

  “Can I get you anything?” Lux asks, stepping into the kitchen. I lean against the wall, trying to look casual and not the drowned rat I feel like.

  “Like what?”

  Lux opens the fridge. “Orange juice, water, cold brew coffee, or Moscato.”

  “Who are you saving the Moscato for?” The chill of the fridge gathers around my exposed ankles where my leggings don’t quite meet my socks.

  He shrugs. “Nobody in particular. I know this girl who really liked it when she tried it, but I can’t say if she ever wants to drink it with me again.”

  “Lux…”

  “Just trying to get the conversation started. No use in wasting time.”

  “I know. You don’t like playing games. I remember.”

  Pulling the container of cold brew from the fridge, Lux fetches two glasses from the cupboard. “I’m glad you remember that.”

  “I remember a lot of things.”

  I swear I see the corner of his lip twitch upward with that statement, but he doesn’t fully smile. Instead, he pours the first cup of coffee and hands it over to me. Our fingers brush on the glass, his skin warm and inviting, and I can’t help but remember the way his hands feel in my hair when we kiss and on my back when we dance. The way they wou
ld have felt on stage during the exhibition.

  And that thought careens me back to reality.

  “So, the club’s canceled,” I say, my voice a little bit too blunt but I can’t take the tone back now. Lux pours himself his own cup of cold brew and places the container back in the fridge. “I’m really sorry, Lux. I know I said it before, but I truly mean it. I enjoyed the few classes I got to attend and you’re a great teacher.”

  He takes a sip of his drink, leaning against the counter as I fiddle with the cup in my own hands, swirling the liquid around. “You think so?”

  “I do. I mean, I might be biased, but I really enjoyed my lessons.”

  Lux laughs, but the sound is hesitant. It’s the first time I’ve heard it in almost a week, and it makes me ridiculously happy.

  “Listen, Chelsea. I know Friday was rough. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let Jenn treat you like she did, and I definitely shouldn’t have let that kiss go on like I did just for the audience’s attention and the hope that we might get some new students out of the show. That was cheap of me, and you didn’t deserve it. I can’t apologize enough.”

  I nod. “You should be sorry.”

  Lux casts his eyes downward, and his apology is written all over his face. He truly is upset with himself for not pushing Jenn away immediately, and I can’t help the part of my heart that wants to forgive him.

  “I swear, nothing like that will ever happen again. Jenn knows things are over now. For good. Forever. The club is over. We have no reason to see each other except at the Oakwood. The friendship I thought we would be able to maintain is over too.”

  I sigh deeply before I respond, trying to keep my voice steady when I’m feeling so many emotions. “Are we over?”

  “I hope not. Every day’s been unbearable knowing that I needed to give you time but fighting with myself to try and help you come to the conclusion that I’m not an awful person.”

  I believe him. He isn’t an awful person. He’s just trying to do his best. He’s trying to save what he loves while not being annihilated by the past.

  “I forgive you,” I finally say, swallowing a mouthful of cold brew. It leaves behind a distinct aftertaste of hazelnut.

  Lux gives me a full smile before he places his cup down on the counter with a little clink and crosses the kitchen’s tile floor. I find a spot for my glass and I turn into him as he approaches. It only takes a moment for our gazes to connect, and immediately the two of us collapse into one another’s arms, pressing our coffee-scented lips together.

  He runs his hands along my sides, tangling our fingers together and holding them against the cool granite countertop. I don’t ever want him to let me go again, and I sink into his touch with the longing and desire that I missed over the past week. Lux growls into my lips as I squeeze his hands with my own, deepening the kiss for a moment before he reconsiders and pulls away half an inch. I can barely breathe, I’m gulping for air, and he’s pleased that he’s gotten me short-winded judging by the look on his face.

  “Chelsea?” The way he says my name makes my stomach do a little flutter, and I tear my gaze away from his lips and up toward his blue eyes.

  “Mhmm?”

  “Will you dance with me?”

  I can’t help the abrupt laugh that escapes me, thinking about what Lux said once about how we’ll never be able to dance without it turning into something more. “Are you sure you mean dance?”

  I raise one eyebrow and he smirks, letting my hands go. “I actually mean dance. I thought we could perform our routine for the exhibition here in the living room.”

  “There’s nobody around, though. Who would we be performing for?”

  That’s when Lux truly lights up. " I didn’t want to detract from our more important conversation, but I’ve found work here. At least part-time for the school year.”

  “I had no idea you were looking for something, that’s great!”

  “I wasn’t,” Lux admits. “It kind of fell into my lap. One of the people on the student council knows someone on the executive committee of Bedford Dance Studio. They offered me a position teaching partner dancing twice a week for a couple of hours. I thought I’d show the students our video to get them excited about what they might be able to achieve quickly.”

  “I hope you’re not planning on giving them all private lessons to get as good as me,” I joke, toying with the hem of Lux’s shirt because I don’t entirely want to let him go.

  He shakes his head, his dimple showing from his bright smile. “Would you do me the honor of letting me record our dance so I can show it to a bunch of strangers and prove to them that they too can learn how to swing dance?”

  “It would be my pleasure. But I require something in return.”

  Lux furrows his brow as if he’s trying to think what I could possibly want in return. “What’s that?”

  I grin. “Pancakes.”

  Chapter 12

  After we practice the dance a few times and get the recording down, I stay the night at Lux’s, which is the first time since we got together. Usually, I’d go home to my dorm or there was the one time he stayed with me, but waking up in his bed on the soft memory foam is a welcome change to the mattress in my room. Of course, waking up at five in the morning isn’t exactly what I was hoping for; however, Lux brushing his fingers softly against my arm to rouse me is more than enough to make up for it.

  “Chelsea?” His voice is low and quiet, nearly a whisper.

  I roll over and bury myself in the firmness of his bare chest before taking a breath in. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I just… I’m glad we were able to fix things. I’m glad Jenn didn’t tear us apart, as much as she probably wanted to. I’m still so sorry about that kiss.”

  “It wasn’t your kiss anyway, Lux. You didn’t start it. And I’ve already forgiven you a million times. My head and my heart are over it because I know the truth. It’s just a misstep. Like when I try to triple-step and clomp on your toes. It’s not permanent and it doesn’t ruin everything, it just trips us up a little.”

  Lux shifts onto his side, and I adjust myself so I’m looking at him, his face glowing in the pale moonlight that streams through the eighth-floor window. “You were really getting into the whole dance thing, weren’t you?”

  Nodding, I breathe in a sigh. “I was. I’m kind of sad the club’s canceled even though Jenn was helping run it. I won’t have an excuse to dance with you anymore.”

  “You can dance with me whenever you want. I’ll teach you new steps —blues, salsa, you name it. You could even come to Bedford Dance Studio and take some night classes if you wanted. You’re good, Chelsea.”

  “I had a good teacher. I don’t think I’d be able to dance that way with anyone else. We just have a connection on the floor, you know? We can feel the flow of the song and predict each other’s movements.”

  Lux hums to himself for a second in the dark, pushing the bedsheet off his arm carefully, so it doesn’t tug off of me. The movement is as graceful as his dancing, the liquid gestures of his body almost a dance on their own. His muscles ripple under the moonbeams, and I watch the way the light curls along his skin.

  I’m tired, but the kind of tired that makes me feel everything that much more, and so when Lux reaches up and touches my neck, I let out the tiniest groan. I’m not sure if he means to have that effect on me, but soon we’re kissing in the dark. The embrace is relaxed, our mouths sleepily finding each other and deepening and lengthening the graze of our lips until we’re wrapped around one another. Lux is gentle and soft this morning, making me feel hungry for his touch, and I slip my hands along his neck, digging my nails into him in a primal response that wakes him—and me—entirely.

  Time passes quickly when I’m with Lux. The nights, the days, the lazy afternoons on the weekends where we listen to old music, practice dance steps, and watch each other study. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing because we’re doing it together, and true togethe
rness is the thing that we’ve both craved for so long.

  Soon after the exhibition, Lux and I stop going to the Oakwood. He doesn’t mention Jenn anymore and I don’t ask after her. I have no desire to know what she’s been up to, and that doesn’t concern me based on Lux’s response to her slapdash kiss at the performance. Plus, if she thought things with Lux weren’t over, I believe that the exhibition night proved to her that they are.

  Mom and I talk later in the week and I let her know that Lux and I have sorted things out. I don’t know why I wait until she brings it up because it’s not like she doesn’t already know about the kiss or our relationship. She must have assumed things were relatively serious judging by my reaction that night, along with how teary I was on the phone when she called before going back to Daphne’s. I know this because when another weekend finally rolls around, she tells me to invite Lux for brunch at the house. He agrees.

  By some miracle, Lux remembers the way out to Patrick’s Cove, and the following Saturday in the brilliant sunshine we’re driving on the highway toward the ocean, the scent of dead fish and sea salt on the air. It’s like that’s a symbol for home, and someone’s lit a candle in my mind and reminded me of the way it used to smell when I was younger.

  We pull into the driveway next to Mom’s new Ford Escape around eleven in the morning, the tires of Lex’s car crunching over the gravel driveway as we approach the house. Mom called to say the door would be unlocked and to let ourselves in.

  Lux steps out of the car and stretches. The sunlight reflects off his hair that’s blowing in the sea breeze, and for a moment the whole world slows down, and I realize that I’m absolutely, completely, falling in love with him.

  “Is Patrick’s Cove a real cove?” he asks, the thought clearly on his mind since we passed the sign.

  I nod. “It is. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it. It’s a pretty touristy place most of the year, but around now it’s especially nice.”

  “Can we go see it? After brunch with your mom, I mean.”