by Cass Lennox
He directed her through the lift, making sure she knew what she was doing. Every time her arms closed around him, he felt tingly, aware of her strength and care. It had been a long time since someone had lifted him, and he’d forgotten how great it felt.
When they were done, she stood red-faced and sweaty before him. She’d done so well, it was only fair to return the favour.
“I also pick you up in this routine, if you want to practise that too,” he said.
There was an awkward pause.
“Uh, just while we’re doing lifts anyway,” he added. Stay cool Tyler, it’s just a lift. “You know. Keep the right mindset going.” Or something.
She slowly nodded, eyeing his arms. “Do you lift me in the same way?”
“Almost. What you did is a basic lift. This is a straight lift. I’m going to hold your waist, just under your rib cage, and lift you right up in front of me.” He demonstrated how far up. “You’re going to help me by jumping into the lift and keeping your core stiff. Really tense it. Also put your arms on my shoulders so you have a platform to support yourself on.”
She bit her lip, that look of concentration back. “Okay.”
He moved closer. “Ready?”
She nodded.
He put his hands on her waist, and she lightly touched his shoulders. Small shocks skittered up and down his arms. He swallowed, then croaked, “Jump.”
She did, and he lifted her. Her arms straightened on either side of his head, weight bearing down on him, her core tense, her legs straight. A natural. Those core muscles were strong and tight under his hands and wow he shouldn’t be this interested in those—
“You guys look great!” Katie called.
He’d forgotten she and Brock were still there.
“You okay?” Evie asked uncertainly, looking down at him. Her fingers curled, bunching the material of the tank on his shoulders. Yeah, he was okay. He was good. He could gaze at those eyes all day.
“Yep,” he said.
“I’m not too heavy?”
“Nope. Just heavy.”
She cracked a smile, and Tyler started easing her down slowly, unable to look away from her face. She gazed at him, and just like that they were anchored into each other by sight as well as by muscles and hands. His breath caught somewhere deep in his chest. Thoughts scattered, throwing up similar images of her flushed and lowering to him, not to touch the ground but to kiss him. He shook his head to clear it. Her weight dug into his shoulders until her feet met the floor. They paused for a moment, looking at each other, then both of them let go.
“That was awkward.” Evie looked away, face pink. “All of this feels really awkward.”
“There’s a trick that helps with that.” His voice had gone rough.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Keep doing it.” She snorted, and he backed away. Enough lifts now. They had to move on with the routine, otherwise he’d never teach her anything. “Which means we’re going to go over from the beginning again.”
She groaned.
He grinned.
This was officially fun. Partnering with Evie was fun. He couldn’t remember the last partner who’d made him snort his Gatorade or who’d given him snark while also truly trying to work with him (mostly because she would have been way before Lucette). That Evie was strong and gorgeous and made him remember what his libido felt like was a bonus. This was excellent.
It can still go wrong, that negative part of his head chimed in.
Partnering was, by its very nature, intimate. A good bond had to be built between partners in order for the dance to work. Sometimes when the routine told a romantic story, people were too drawn into that bond, too liable to think the acted chemistry and physical closeness indicated deeper feelings. It had happened with Lucette. And here he was now, already wonderfully aware of Evie’s physicality.
Luce had always hated him dancing with other women.
Man, Luce is not here.
He took a deep breath. Chill, Ty. If things got weird, he knew better now. He could spot the warning signs. And Evie was a tourist; she would leave.
But there wouldn’t be any problems. Evie was no Lucette. Evie was lots of things, but she didn’t seem poised to misread the physical acting component of the routine as something more. Hell, her being asexual might even mitigate some of the physical stuff. She probably wouldn’t even notice it, let alone read too much into it.
Relief bloomed, and he truly relaxed for the first time since the session started.
By the time Evie collapsed next to her bag at 6 p.m., her legs and arms were shaking. Katie and Brock had long since disappeared to film Gigi’s session, meaning Tyler was the only one to hear her moan like a cow in distress. It didn’t matter how much she jogged at home, it was nothing compared to dancing for three and a half hours. Nothing.
As she blindly dug in her bag for a cereal bar, she caught Tyler smirking at her. She held up one finger. “No. Don’t look so smug, Mr. I-do-this-for-a-living. I’m dying.”
“Me? Smug?”
“You. Smug. Right now.” She bit into the bar and chewed. Never had anything tasted so good. “Oh God, I won’t be able to move tomorrow.”
“You’ll have to,” he said.
“Don’t remind me.” She crunched away as he pulled a towel out of his bag. Hmm. Must remember that. She’d sweated like a pig in the Sahara today. Attractive.
Not that she cared about being attractive.
Not that Tyler appeared to care either.
“This was good.” He sat next to her, towelling off.
Yeah, right. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t. I’m a complete beginner. I know I’m not good.”
“I said this was good. I’m a teacher. I work with beginners all the time.” He pointed his towel at her. “You follow directions, you try things, and you’re picking it up. So yeah, this was good.” He paused. “If it makes you feel better, you’re a good beginner.”
That made her chuckle. “You’re very kind.”
He looked away. “I’m really not.” His phone buzzed, and he checked it. Whatever it was made his face cloud over, and he turned the screen off with a short, angry motion.
An awkward silence filled the space between them. Evie dug through her bag and pulled out her diary and pen. “Let’s arrange the sessions for the next week.”
Tyler nodded and tapped his phone awake. He quietly read out the gaps in his schedule each day for the next week, and Evie wrote them into her diary.
She’d turned to the week after the performance when he said, “I’m guessing that’s when you leave?” She’d written in big letters FLIGHT HOME, and the flight details on the Tuesday following the performance.
“Yes.”
“You’re not here for long.”
“No.” She winked at him. “Put up with my terrible footwork for a week, then you’ll never have to see it again.” She flicked the pages back to the current week and crossed out the session they’d just had.
He pressed closer against her. “Oh hey, cool.”
What was with him? She looked up at him to tell him off for reading over her shoulder, but he was gazing with open admiration at her diary. Every week was a two-page spread, with spaces for each day of the week. Doodles ran throughout this week, odd things she’d seen and wanted to draw: sushi, the CN Tower, two figures on a dance machine, a mess that was supposed to be poutine, chibi versions of Bailey and Sarah, a maple leaf, and a miniature Godzilla.
“You draw?”
She wouldn’t quite call it that. “I doodle.”
“They’re cute.” He tapped Godzilla. “Especially this.”
She blushed. “Godzilla’s easy to draw.” Which was true.
“I couldn’t draw like that.”
“Look.” She angled the diary so he could watch her. She slowly redrew the little Godzilla. “See—an oblong, two little eyes, more oblongs for the body and legs, some triangles for the claws and scales and teeth, and you’re done.”
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Tyler huffed in amusement. “Sure, whatever.” He pointed at Sarah and Bailey. “I recognize these two.”
Drawing chibi versions of them was as easy as doing Godzilla, but the reactions had been hilarious. In fact . . . Evie eyed him over, taking in his distinctive features—the curly hair, defined jaw, angular face—and grinned.
He quirked an eyebrow in confusion. “What?”
“Stay still.”
She picked up her pen and quickly sketched out him as a chibi figure. Big eyes, big curly hair, big head, with a toddler body wearing dance clothes.
He laughed, short and delighted. “You make it look easy.”
“You make dancing look easy.” She gestured at herself. “I know I’m going to be in pain tomorrow, and you’ve barely broken a sweat.”
“I might not be in pain, but—” he fingered his tank “—I’m kinda gross right now.”
“Me too.” Hers was stuck to her, and she peeled it away from her body. Jeez. When she looked back up, she found herself gazing into dark, appreciative eyes.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he said.
Oh wow. That was completely unexpected. Those eyes. A lump rose into her throat, and she couldn’t find anything to say.
He blinked, then his mouth twisted bitterly and he moved back. “Uh—”
Something thudded in the corridor outside. Uncertain if she was upset or grateful for the interruption, Evie stood on wobbly legs and opened the door.
Gigi stood a few doors down, chest heaving. Brock was against the wall, staring at Gigi in shock. Bags lay around their feet. To her surprise, Gigi was visibly upset: all wide eyes and defensive stance.
“Gigi,” she called before she could think about it.
Their faces snapped towards her. Brock straightened. She grasped for something to say. “We’re done here,” she managed. “So if you’re waiting for Tyler, he’s free.”
Gigi nodded jerkily, picked up his bag, and almost ran towards her. At the door, he paused and whispered, “Thanks.”
Evie watched as Brock lurched away from the wall. He ignored her as he picked up his bag and left. Whatever had happened, the aftermath left her feeling a little uncertain and off.
Gigi didn’t seem affected. Once in the room, his entire demeanour changed. He tossed his bag aside, did the straightening, uplifted posture Tyler had shown Evie earlier, and strode across the room as though he owned it.
“Ty,” he announced, “you will not believe how much crap the hetero is giving me. I need at least four cosmos to get over this afternoon. At least.”
Tyler snorted as he stood up. “Your game plan is to drink your way through this competition?”
She walked to her bag as Gigi imitated an inept Mark. “‘Bro, I’m, like, bugging. Dude, I’ve, like, never danced with a dude before.’ I swear to God, if he calls me ‘bro’ one more time, I’m going to grand jete his nuts into Lake Ontario.”
“He’s trying to be nice,” Tyler said. “That’s how straight guys act when they want to be friends.”
“How the fuck would you know?”
Tyler exhaled sharply. “Jesus, Gigi. Who the hell tied your panties in a knot?” Tension filled the room as the two men stared each other down.
Bloody hell.
Evie took that as her cue to leave. She quietly picked up her things just as Gigi made a strangled, frustrated noise. He burst out with, “I’m sorry!” and started tromping around the studio, arms swinging.
Yup, time for her to leave. “Tyler, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nodded and waved wearily. “See you, Evie.”
She pulled her backpack on and left the room, aiming for where she thought the reception was. Brock was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. She wondered what had happened between him and Gigi. Then she thought about Tyler’s eyes and that bitter expression, and wondered what was going on with him. She didn’t think that bitterness had been aimed at her, but it had been weird.
Especially since today had been so fun. Tyler wasn’t as grumpy as he’d first appeared. Turned out he was actually patient and funny and maybe even a little sweet. Evie had to admit, she’d had a crazy moment where she thought he’d freak out when she had revealed her orientation in her interview. Crazy, because if he was friends with Sarah, he should be fine with asexuality; and crazy because of course he was fine. Had barely blinked.
She enjoyed the dancing too. It felt good to move her body in new ways, to express something through her physicality. And the lift! He’d lifted her effortlessly, which was a first for her. She’d loved that. Really loved it. Finally those moments in dance movies where the guy held the girl up actually made sense to her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was something about feeling supported yet uplifted. Like she could do anything. And in the movies there was probably some sexual stuff implied in the movement, but she didn’t need that to feel good about the lifts. Given that Tyler had to have lifted lots of women when dancing, she doubted he found it sexual either.
She also liked the power she’d felt lifting him. That was sort of uplifting too. She liked that he trusted her to handle him that way. No guy had ever asked her to lift him except as a dare. Tyler had been excited about it; he’d lit up as soon as he knew she was strong.
It had been quite a while since she’d spent time in another person’s space like that. It was strange, but good, to dance with someone, to properly dance, not just bounce along in a club. Not that it was anything special for him. She knew that. But there couldn’t be anything wrong with enjoying another person like this, not when it was so—
“EVIE!”
She stopped short and looked around her to see Bailey and Sarah running up to her. In her reverie, she’d walked straight past them where they stood outside the school.
“Girl, you were on another planet!” Sarah threw an arm around her shoulders. “How was it?”
“Fun?” Bailey asked.
“Yes!” Evie described the session and demonstrated a few moves as they walked to the streetcar stop. Once on the streetcar, she collapsed into a chair, legs alarmingly wobbly. “I’m good for nothing except a shower and that pizza you promised.”
Sarah and Bailey smiled.
“For sure. That’s no problem,” Sarah said.
“You totally smell,” Bailey added with a grin.
Evie good-naturedly flipped them the middle finger.
“How was Tyler?” Sarah asked.
Bailey shot her a look, and it was one Evie had often seen in couples and friends who really understood each other. The kind of look where they talked to each other without using words. What was that about? Why were they worried about Tyler?
“He was fine,” Evie said slowly. “Very patient. Should he not have been?”
Sarah bit her lip. “It’s just that . . .”
Bailey nudged her. “Sarah.”
“I know, Bay. Evie, it’s just some history with his last dance partner.” Sarah shrugged. “It’s not my story to tell, and it’s definitely not your problem to worry about. If he wasn’t freaking out, then that’s good enough for me. It’s kind of awesome, actually.”
That was . . . interesting. Tyler might’ve been grumpy, but he didn’t seem the type to freak out about anything. Evie hadn’t noticed anything strange, and she said as much. “I’m not exactly a permanent dance partner,” she added. “I’m around for a week. Three days after the performance, I’m gone for a few months. I doubt he’s that invested in this, you know?”
“You’re right,” Sarah said. “I’m sure he’s not.”
Evie’s phone buzzed. She picked it up and saw a WhatsApp message from Tyler: Gigi is flipping his shit on me. Did you see anything in the hall?
She frowned and tapped out her answer: Not much. I think he and Brock had a tussle and dropped a few things. Brock looked like he was shoved into a wall. Maybe an argument? Idk.
“Who is it?” Sarah asked.
“Tyler.”
“Tyler? He texted you
?”
Evie looked up to see Sarah and Bailey doing it again, the wordless communication thing. A little odd, considering how chatty Sarah normally was, and how many people were talking around them on the streetcar. A small moment of silent communication in the middle of human noise. Her phone buzzed in her hand.
Tyler: Thanks. That clears something up. Good thing you opened the door when you did.
Evie: Why? Would something bad have happened?
Tyler: Not necessarily, but it’s better nothing happened. Gtg, G has disappeared somewhere.
Oh dear.
“Evazilla,” Sarah said a little too innocently. “What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing,” Evie said.
“Nothing, eh?”
Time to turn the tables. “You sounded so Canadian right then! ‘Nothing, eh.’” She made sure to beam with delight.
Bailey chuckled, and Sarah laughed and leaned against Bailey. They swayed with the movement of the streetcar. “Maybe we can watch you practise sometime.”
Evie shook her head. “No. No. I’m terrible and you’ll be bored stiff.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Sarah grinned.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Evie demanded.
Sarah said nothing, merely did the look thing again with Bailey.
Evie put her phone away, baffled. Normally Sarah would and did spill out whatever was in her head. Whatever she was keeping back about this dancing and Tyler stuff had to be serious . . . right? Considering this was Sarah, Evie didn’t know what to think.
Honestly, it was just dancing.
Tyler blinked and tried to focus, but the colours were starting to ripple together. Two doors to choose from: noxious pink for the girls, neon blue for the boys. He looked around for a single or disabled washroom, but there wasn’t one in sight. The best option not available, he’d have to go for the next best. The crowd in this bar was mostly young and hipster, so he doubted he’d get any crap. He hoped he wouldn’t. He sighed, focused on the blue, and strode in there. Straight past other guys, into a stall, lock. Do his business, flush, wash his hands without looking at anyone, out.