by Maya William
“No, Samantha, hold up,” he calls after me.
Samantha? It’s been a while since he’s called me anything but Twinkle Toes or my lady.
Sensing this is important, I stop.
“I don’t want to pressure you into giving me an answer, because your answer will be no,” he admits. “I know you want Samuel to ask you.”
My stomach drops with a sense of helplessness. My feelings for Samuel are so obvious; Lyra already noticed it, and Darcy as well.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I mean, no hard feelings if you want to go with Knightley,” Archie interjects. “He seems like a not-terrible guy. But, honestly, he’s not as charming as me; at least you can give me that.”
For a moment, his words make me forget the fear of being such an open book, and I end up laughing. I have to agree, he does treat me much better. I turn back to face him, listening.
“But, for the moment, it’s best if you stick with the family. If Samuel were here for the dance, I wouldn’t mind you going with him, but he won’t be, and your options are limited. Kellan will take Barb, and going with your brother…” His face twists, and he shudders in disgust. “Come on!” He stomps his feet. “You still have a good-looking option available and excited to dance with you. So, what do you say?”
He gives me a winning smile and wiggles his eyebrows.
I shake my head.
“Tell me you’ll think about it, my lady,” he says. “I know Rasputin totally votes for me.”
Wow, if Rasputin votes for him, let’s go for the little guy’s option then.
“I’ll think about it,” I promise.
“Splendid,” he replies happily. “Just a heads up; I’ll do everything within my power to get a yes. Consider yourself warned,” he tells me with a wink. “Now, my lady, allow me to escort you once again to your future class.”
I roll my eyes but allow it.
Archie takes my backpack. “By the way, your brother requested I take you to the ballet studio this afternoon. Something about one final practice with our friend.”
“Really?” I ask, full of surprise. “Wasn’t he supposed to leave today?”
Archie shoves his hands inside his pants pockets. “Yeah, he’s leaving sometime after dinner.”
“Oh,” I say, disappointed.
“However, since you did such a beautiful job yesterday going to church, how about you take the car today as well?” He pulls one of his hands out of his pocket and dangles the car keys in front of me. “You need to practice more.”
My brow wrinkles as I eye the keys, and I resist grabbing them and making a run for it. “Won’t you get in trouble with Zach or Abigail?”
He flexes his finger, motioning for me to come closer, as if he’s about to whisper a secret. “Trouble is my middle name.”
I’m almost certain it’s Stephen.
“Plus, Oliver will back me up.” He laughs it off. “He wants you driving on your own soon, and not dependent on the rest of us to take you places.”
It hurts to hear somebody finally voicing my fears. “I’m a nuisance, aren’t I? I bet you just don’t want to wait for my ballet class to end.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Twinkle Toes. For that particular class, one of us will be waiting for you,” he corrects. “My thoughts were more like going to church, visiting Miranda, going to the dance studio, shopping for clothes… You know, the annoying chick stuff.”
I chuckle.
“Plus, it earns me points for my battle against Knightley,” he adds.
“You know, it isn’t a fair fight.” I stop once we reach my cooking classroom. “You get more chances since we live in the same house.”
He brings both hands up. “Hey, he started it. And I plan to take advantage of all the wonderful opportunities it offers. Besides, as they say, everything’s fair in love and war.”
“Who said anything about love?” I laugh at his goofy expression as he returns my bag. “Isn’t this war, to see who I choose to go to the dance with?”
“Well, yeah. But who knows? Perhaps you’ll realize I’m not such a terrible knight after all. I may take this opportunity to woo you as well.” With a devilish smile, he hands me the car keys. “See you at dinner, Twinks.” He brings his hand up, touches his forehead with two of his fingers, and quickly pulls them back in a salute.
Like he can beat Samuel.
Dancing on my own
Driving to the studio takes longer than usual because of the quick pit stop I make at the house to grab my ballet gear and change. Plus, since I’m driving alone, my speed, while still within the speed limit, tends to be on the slower side.
My elated sense of anticipation vanishes when I step inside the studio and find Samuel frowning, arms crossed over his chest.
“Samantha, you’re twenty minutes late.” His lips form a tight line.
He’d usually let this slip. Apparently, the upcoming trip also affected his mood. Then again, I can’t blame him considering my grouchiness this morning.
“Sorry,” I apologize.
Placing the car keys in my bag, I drop it near the door and remove my hoodie. Without waiting for his instruction, I begin to stretch, preparing for the two hours of training ahead of us.
Glancing at the mirror in front of me, his stiff posture and the way he constantly rubs the back of his neck reveals how much the presentation is getting to him. I go to stand next to him and copy the moves he performs for the rest of the warmup.
“We should get started. Maria won’t be joining us this evening,” he mentions without turning my way once we finish stretching. “She still needs to pack.”
Ugh, like I need the reminder.
“Sounds good,” I sigh, disappointed.
I walk to the center of the dance floor, then wait for him to tell me which song we’ll practice tonight.
He puts on a familiar song, one he usually uses for a quick warmup before the hardcore stuff. Following the choreography, I dance, mixing contemporary with ballet, allowing the music to guide me.
My attention shifts, though, when he doesn’t join me. Instead, he remains standing at the other side of the stage, arms crossed, staring at me.
Stretching my arms, I invite him to come dance, but he stays put, analyzing my every move.
Can I safely assume he plans to test me, then?
I continue with the routine, guessing what flaws he’ll find and correct when I finish.
After a while, when the choreography requires couples moves, I improvise when he remains on the sidelines.
It feels like putting on a show for him, taunting him to come dance with me. Like a cat playing with a mouse, I expect him to pounce on me and lift me at the most unexpected time, then listen to his sweet voice telling me what our next move will be.
But as much as my body craves his touch, he stays put with an unexpected longing on his face. I move to his back and touch him, getting on my tippy toes to reach his ear, or at least come closer to it.
“Will you dance with me?” I whisper, bringing my body closer to him.
Mentally, I give myself a chop on the head, knowing he’ll do it in a few moments, once the song ends.
He chuckles, but I don’t sense any joy behind it, as if my question sounded ironic. The stiffness of his body answers my question.
When his head drops, shoulders slumped, I stop dancing and move in front of him to get a better look at his sad face.
My hand stretches out and grabs his to gain his attention. “What’s wrong?”
My stomach sinks, waiting for him to tell me bad news regarding his mom, David, or his presentation.
He keeps quiet for what seems like an eternity.
What? Just speak to me!
“I need to teach you how to dance for the school dance,” he finally speaks, deflated and with a weary smile.
The air partially returns to my lungs.
The news is different from what I expected, and yet, it still hurts. A part of me wante
d to practice ballet one last time before he left for such a long stretch of time; the equivalent of the time I’ve known him.
I should count my blessings: these few weeks of dancing with him under Maria’s tutoring improved my technique and expanded my moves. However, the time we spent together laughing at his silly jokes and creating new dancing routines will be what I miss the most.
Seeing Darcy excited about the dance, and how Archie behaved cool about Knightley asking me out, brought a small spark of joy within me, and I shouldn’t stop myself from fulfilling another one of the teenage milestones.
Thanks to my lack of patience last Friday, I lost the opportunity to have Samuel as my dance partner, teaching me how to dance like the kids at school. Right now, one of those dreams can’t be fulfilled, but the second can.
If my master sensei believes I need to learn to dance, I will obey. Especially since he promised me he would.
“Did you decide who will take you?” he asks while he selects a song.
Wow, news travels fast in school if he already heard about Knightley asking me.
Then again, this might be part of Archie’s evil plan to sway my decision in his favor.
“Not yet,” I reply honestly as Samuel connects his phone to the speakers and joins me in the middle of the dance area.
He places one of my hands on his shoulder, takes the other in his hand, then puts his free hand on my waist.
“Okay, these are going to be the basics, since it will depend on the kind of music the DJ plays. If it varies, you can copy from other students,” he says without looking at me, focusing on the position of my body and nodding in approval. “However, two options exist at a school dance. The first one is ballroom dancing.”
He explains the essential move, taking the lead and directing me with his body, marking the one, two, three simple steps.
“Don’t fully extend your arm, bend it a little.” He flexes his own, showing me the proper angle and height. “This isn’t ballroom dancing. At least, not professionally.”
He gives me a brief smile.
“I don’t want to overdo it, since Archie isn’t an excellent dancer.” He laughs, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Knightley might be a safer bet, at least for your feet and toes. There isn’t much to this kind of dance. However, you need to let the guy lead you and mark the speed of the dance.” He speeds his movements, then slows them down.
“And how is it any different from what we dance every day?” I joke, stealing a genuine smile out of him.
Okay, this is good, Big Guy. His mood seems to be improving.
Unfortunately, he remains quiet, not answering with a snarky comment or a comeback.
Instead, he brings me closer to his body. Circling my hands around his neck, he slides his hands around me and stops when they circle my waist.
“This is for slow dancing. Now, the space between you and your partner varies depending on the desired level of intimacy; however, chaperones will make sure an acceptable gap between both partners exists,” he explains with a smile.
Got it! Enough room for the Holy Spirit, right?
“Sway slowly while making a small circle like this.” Swaying, he creates a small radius where we keep moving around it.
Big Guy, this dance gets a thumbs up from my raging teenage hormones, and according to them, the closer, the better.
“This is probably the simplest dance we’ve ever done,” I comment when, after a few turns, it becomes predictable.
“At least for you. A couple of guys I’ve taught still struggle with it.” He laughs. “Born with two left feet. I bet Darcy will have a hard time.”
Yeah, knowing Darcy, I concur with that statement.
“Then, Zach’s most likely going to lose a toe,” I say, and bring him up to speed on the latest gossip.
“Nah, he’s not bad. He’ll be fine as long as he keeps his feet out of her reach. A ten-inch gap should be safe.” He chuckles. “I advise the same for you if you choose to go with Archie. Don’t want those dancing feet to get hurt. Maria or Pietro will kill him.”
I throw my head back, laughing as I imagine Maria’s angry glare and the probable consequences Archie might face.
“Anyhow, I’d advise you to be careful with Knightley. If you don’t feel comfortable with him, don’t encourage him. I’d rather you stop or keep a safe distance.” As he pushes me away, my arms stretch out, creating a big gap between us, larger than the ten-inch gap he advised for Zach. “Perhaps something like this.” He gives me a teasing smile.
I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the warning about Knightley.
“On a serious note. You shouldn’t let Knightley put his hands on other places than your waist, hips, or hands. In fact, the less he touches you, the better.”
Big Guy, is Samuel jealous? Of Knightley? Then, why not be jealous of Archie as well?
“Unlike you,” I tease Samuel, “with all the crazy routines we perform.”
“Hey! I’m your dance partner, I earned that right,” he defends while bringing me closer to him, keeping up with the small circle.
“I wish you’d stay and came to the dance,” I confess, my bravery appearing out of thin air.
He stops and looks down at me. “Why, Miss Melbourne, are you asking me to go to the dance with you?” He uses Barb’s southern accent while pulling an alarmed face.
I giggle and shake my head. “I already know how to dance with you. You’re predictable, plus you wouldn’t step on my toes.”
My answer makes him laugh hard.
“First time a dance partner’s ever told me that. Usually, it’s the other way around.” He winks at me. “But, then again, I blame you for breaking my terrible dancing reputation.”
What terrible reputation? Pffft, the way he dances, I find it hard to believe.
“Besides, this dance isn’t us, it would require some significant adjustments for us to own it,” he mentions.
Us? That has a lovely ring to it, especially with the mischievous look in his eyes.
Conscious of his hands and the circles his thumbs make around my hips, my heart stops fluttering and quickens its pace. “Is that so?”
“Yeah.” He takes hold of my hands, makes me do a twirl, then pulls me back to him. My chest lightly hits his, a nonexistent gap between us. “I don’t think the chaperones would approve our technique at the ball,” he whispers in my ear.
I giggle, my body embracing the closeness. “And what technique is the one you refer to?”
“Close to me and with my hands all over you.” He relocates my hands to around his neck, bringing his face closer to mine, his sweet breath caressing the top of my head. He sniffs my hair and lets it out with a soft moan.
“You’re crazy, you know?” I tip my head back to find his face inches from mine.
“Yes, especially about you,” he gently responds with a twinkle in his eyes.
My cheeks warm, my heart beats at an uncontrollable speed, and my stomach shifts into full knot mode. However, my legs manage to somehow remain steady.
After all the times he’s come close to me, making me believe he’s about to kiss me before he backs away, I don’t want to get my hopes up by overreading this.
Besides, Lyra said he needs to make the first move.
But why, Big Guy, does he have to be so darn cute?
The music continues while we keep slow dancing. I close my eyes and rest my cheek against his chest, enjoying this moment; our moment.
One of his hands slides from my waist to my back, slowly creating small circles. I usually find this technique relaxing.
Yeah, not today, Big Guy.
I dare to look up at him, and his blazing gaze paralyzes me. He stops moving and brings his head closer to mine, planting a kiss on my forehead, allowing his lips to linger.
Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this kiss?
Every cell of my body calls for him, while my mind works overtime to keep my emotions at bay.
And my mi
nd fails miserably.
When I shift my head back, he pulls away. Fear fills his eyes, as if he made a mistake.
No! No! No!
Without letting go of his neck, I rise on my tippy toes, an awkward en pointe, and pull him down. I close my eyes, finding my courage, and press my lips to his cheek.
He holds his breath without moving.
Oh, no! I misinterpreted, and I let my feelings loose. Darn it!
Internally cursing my bold and fearless action, I turn my head away from him, not daring to face him.
Now I made a fool out of myself. It seems stupidity is becoming a thing with me today.
My arms drop from his neck, and I try to step back, but find resistance in his hold. I glance up in time to find him smiling at me, bringing his face closer.
Since my brain continues to be overwhelmed by emotions and doesn’t have a freaking clue how to react, I let my feelings take control of my actions.
I step closer, close my eyes, and touch his nose with mine. He slowly moves his head to one side, stopping before the touch disappears, then moving it to the opposite, giving me what I once heard somebody call a nose kiss.
When I pull away and open my eyes, I swear his eyes gleam.
Throwing all my inhibitions away, and the beliefs tattooed on my brain by religious classes, I prepare to take the plunge because I want a kiss from Samuel.
There’s an inexplicable chemistry between him and me. Maria told us so. I’ve denied it, expecting my inexperience to make incorrect assumptions about every single touch. However, I’m confident about what my feelings tell me.
Staring into his eyes, I know what goes through his mind. It’s not rocket science.
Kiss me.
Closing my eyes, I bring my lips forward, finally feeling his on top of mine, waiting for the moment, well, when he can guide me on what follows, since I have no freaking idea what to do.
As if on cue, he freezes in place, his hands going to my face as he pulls away.
Oh My Big Guy! It wasn’t rocket science; it was freaking nuclear, or whichever’s hardest. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Why didn’t I listen to Lyra and let the guy make the first move? But no! Little Samantha had to get proactive.