by Cass Lennox
Tyler glared at her. “I do need you around. And I’m not finished. I was scared you’d come to hate me the way Luce did. I was scared I wasn’t enough for you. I was scared of being hurt again. I was scared and I pushed you away and I’m sorry.”
One of the dancers behind her murmured, “Dude, this is better than TV.”
Fucking Lucette. “You know, your ex is really starting to piss me off.” Evie barely managed to keep herself from snarling at him. “Considering how smart you are, I’m having trouble understanding why you stayed with her.”
“Because I wanted someone to love me for me and she said she did.” His voice was hoarse. “I believed her because I didn’t know better. Because I wanted to believe her. But it wasn’t real and it fucked me over. You’re real. This is real.”
Oh God. Oh God. She was not going to cry here.
Onstage, Gigi pulled Mark into a hold and waltzed him around the stage, dipping him at the finale. The audience cheered and clapped enthusiastically, then gasped and screamed in appreciation as the Cherry Studios leather hunks took the stage. Evie and Tyler were now at the front of the line. Gigi and Mark stumbled down the stairs, grinning widely and high-fiving everyone.
Once they were past, Evie dredged up her courage to say, “How funny. I was starting to think I was in love with you. Look how that turned out.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes after saying that.
One of the dancers behind her sucked in a breath. In front of them, the organizer’s eyes flickered up from his watch.
“Really?” Tyler sounded like he couldn’t believe it. “Evie, look at me. Please.”
She somehow made herself do that. He seemed ready to cry.
“I’m not good at this, figuring this stuff out. Words, that is. I froze up and I didn’t explain myself and I hurt you. I’m sorry. Here’s what I should have said: this past week with you has been the best week I can remember in a long fucking time. You’re kind and funny and beautiful and so fucking intelligent and you blew me away the first time I saw you. You were right—this isn’t casual. This is so much more. You’re amazing and I can’t imagine you being here in Toronto and not being with me. I’m definitely falling in love with you. I want this to continue. I want us.”
He swallowed. “But I’m scared too. I’m scared it will all go to shit and leave me wrecked again, and I don’t think I could handle that. But I want to try because being without you would be worse.” He looked around, then leaned in and whispered, “I don’t know why you think I care about sex. I don’t. We can figure that out later, but it doesn’t matter to me. I just want you. In whatever way you’ll have me.”
Was this real? Evie was dimly aware that her mouth had dropped open. She closed it and swallowed, uncertain of what to say.
“Omigod,” the Cherry Studios guy whispered behind her.
“Whoo, Tyler!” Carmen crowed from behind the Cherry Studios guys.
“Wow, this is actually like super ridiculously cute,” the organizer said.
“And if you don’t want to try again,” Tyler’s cheeks were dark with a blush, “I’ll understand. But I really hope you do.”
Relief and delight bubbled up. He was serious. He was so serious. Not one stutter or misplaced word. “How many times did you practise that speech?”
“You don’t want to know.” He searched her face anxiously. “Evie? Do you still want to—”
“Sorry to interrupt, but you’re, like, on.” The organizer waved at them.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tyler said before Carmen reached forward and shoved him towards the stairs.
Evie was suddenly lighter than she’d been all week. He still wanted her. It was just a stupid argument and misunderstanding. He was insecure too. Was it silly that she felt infinitely better now? She sprang onto the stage ahead of Tyler, passing between the leather guys as they bowed. Realization after realization churned in her head. Tyler was there. He’d figured his shit out and shown up.
Pure joy and energy thrummed through her as she strode towards the audience. She could do this. For possibly the first time ever, she understood what it felt like to be powerful and in control and completely on form. She blew kisses at the leather guys as they left the stage, ignored the dirty looks they shot her in return, and soaked in the applause from the crowd.
Tyler took his position. Glancing at him, she could instantly tell he wasn’t happy. He was still waiting for her answer.
And she knew how to tell him without waiting for the end of the performance.
The opening bars started and she kicked into motion, the moves second nature now. The adrenaline from the crowd lent extra sway and power to her hips and legs, surging through her as she met Tyler in the middle of the stage. He took her hand with a hopeful expression that burned into her memory. They started moving together.
They tore through the routine, lifting and kicking and shoving at each other. Tyler’s movements were tinged with desperation and Evie relished the knowledge that he moved so emotively because of her, for her. And he was there, ready, just as he had been in every rehearsal, lifting her, leading her, retreating from her, moving with her, partnering her. Gazing at her as though she was the only thing that mattered.
And this routine was seamless, as was her feeling of reconnecting physically with him in that electric way they had. Slowly, she bled off her character’s aloofness. She gentled, softened towards him, expressing herself in the way he’d taught her.
He noticed.
Slipping out of a hold, she came to a stop opposite him in time with a gap in the music. Tyler reached out and hooked a finger in the belt loops of her shorts, eyes dark. The music began to drawl the second chorus, and she yanked her sweater off to reveal her top, which read ASEXUAL PRIDE in the flag colours, earning her a cheer from the audience. Tyler grinned and pulled her into the next segment. Blindingly quick footwork took them to the end of the tune and to her character sending Tyler’s to his knees. Only, she wasn’t sure they were acting anymore.
They stared at each other, wide-eyed and panting. Instead of walking away like the routine dictated, Evie put a finger under his chin to lift his face, leaned down, and kissed him. Hard. Then she marched off as the two street guys jumped on stage, high-fiving her as she exited.
Evie had never felt this alive in her life.
Tyler stood, electrified by the kiss, then raced after her. He barely noticed the two Cherry Studios guys in his haste to follow her down the stairs. That dance. The way she’d moved, the way she’d looked at him, the way she’d led and followed, equally and trustingly; it could only mean one thing right? One simple thing: she said yes she said yes she said yes.
He caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs and grabbed her around her middle, swinging her around. She shrieked, and when he set her down, she turned and poked him hard in the shoulder, glaring playfully at him. “I haven’t totally forgiven you, you know.”
He grinned at her. “Just so we’re clear: that was a yes, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, Tyler. I want to be with you.” Her eyes abruptly grew shiny. “I really do.”
The organizer near the stairs let out an audible “Awww.” Tyler started pulling her back to the pavilion, wanting space and some attempt at privacy. He could see Carmen and Claude eyeing them gleefully.
“But,” Evie said as they walked, “you seriously need to tell me what you’re feeling. Please don’t freak out and break up with me every time something difficult happens.”
That was legit. “I can do that. I meant it about working on that.”
“All right.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “And I’ll make sure to give you time to speak. I don’t think that happened yesterday.”
His heart swelled. “For real. Therapy. I’ll be all over this sharing shit by the time you’re back in the fall.”
Her mouth shook as if hiding a smile. “I still can’t believe you didn’t know I was coming back. You idiot.”
“Yeah, but I’m your idiot now
.” He pulled her close and kissed her, revelling in his freedom to do so. The fear was still there, but it flickered at the back of his mind, noticed but not fed. This felt good. This felt really good. She was slightly sweaty, and wearing clingy clothing that emphasized how gorgeous she was, and she smelled amazing. Dizzy, he held on tighter.
She took a deep breath. “You know, we were bloody excellent up there.”
He leaned back so he could look at her face. “We were fucking fantastic. All that practice—”
“Well, isn’t this cozy,” Gigi said behind them.
Tyler’s eye twitched. God, couldn’t they be left alone for five minutes? He turned around to see Gigi and Mark wearing matching tuxes. He’d been too occupied earlier to notice just how coordinated they were. “Oh hey,” he said. “Monkeys in monkey suits.”
Gigi snorted. “Cute. C’mere.” He grabbed Tyler’s arm and dragged him a short distance away. Evie and Mark eyed them in bemusement. Tyler braced himself. Gigi drew himself up. “One: that was a sick routine.”
Tyler grinned. Yup, it totally had been. “Thanks.”
“Was the shirt your idea?”
“Nah, hers.” That had surprised him. It had surprised the crowd too. He noticed the organizer handing Evie her sweater; apparently he’d retrieved it for her.
“I figured. Two: thanks for sharing all that drama with the class.” Gigi grinned. “I will be milking that story for years.”
Oh crap. Tyler looked around to see organizers and Cherry dancers alike pretending not to watch him. “I don’t think you’ll be the only one.”
“Three: congrats.” Tyler was yanked into a tight hug. He blinked, then hugged his friend back.
“I should say the same for you and Brock,” he realized.
Gigi made a garbled noise. “Shut up. I’m just happy you’re with someone who’s not another Überbitch.”
“Likewise.”
“Guys, watch this,” Evie called.
They turned. Evie, Mark, and the other dancers were entranced by the dancers on the stage. He followed their gaze to see Carmen and Claude taking up dramatic, emotive poses. All long lines and serious expressions, and combined with the heels and dresses, they looked amazing. But something about the poses niggled at Tyler. He got it just as the music kicked in.
“No,” Gigi gasped, realizing it at the same time.
“I know,” Tyler said.
“What?” Evie asked.
“They’re doing the Argentine tango,” Tyler replied.
Evie’s eyes went wide, and she looked back at the stage. They watched as Carmen and Claude stalked and wound themselves around each other, fierce and strong. Carmen blocked Claude with a parada, which Claude turned into a bone-melting pasada.
“How the fuck did they learn an Argentine tango routine in one week?” Tyler asked, not expecting an answer.
“It’s unbelievable,” one of the leather guys said.
“It’s genius,” Gigi breathed.
“It’s hot,” Evie said.
They all looked at her, surprised.
“I’m asexual, not blind,” she pointed out blithely.
“Yeah,” Mark agreed. “What she said.”
Gigi glowered at the couple as they marched, dipped, and caressed each other’s legs. Carmen stroked Claude’s cheek with the back of her hand. “This is making me confused,” he complained.
Tyler craned his head to check the audience and was fairly sure the crowd had doubled in size. Evie was right: the routine was fucking hot. It was also complicated, almost expert dancing, and if this didn’t win it for QS, he wasn’t sure what would. He went to Evie and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. They watched Carmen and Claude finish to thunderous applause.
“Jesus Christ.” One of the Cherry ballroom dancers whistled. “That’s the competition in the bag. Nice one, guys.”
The leather guys muttered darkly, one of them adjusting a delicately positioned strap while the other took his heels off with a sigh of relief.
Carmen and Claude curtseyed, then beckoned at them. The dancers crowded back onstage and jostled for a position in view of the crowd. Tyler held Evie’s hand tightly, happy she stood in front of him. Performing in front of crowds wasn’t a problem, but simply standing and being a focus of attention was a whole other issue.
The MC for the stage came up and blabbed on and on about Pride and the arts. Derek and Justine stood next to her, faces forced into big smiles. Tyler noticed Jean at the front of the crowd, distributing key rings. Dead centre in the crowd were Sarah, Bailey, Vaughn, and Jonah, waving and beaming.
“Even though every performance was absolutely stellar,” the MC was saying, “we still have to judge the best dancers in this dance-off. Judges?”
Judges? Tyler had been so distracted he hadn’t noticed the small stand near the stage. Several people he didn’t recognize sat in there, drinking and looking mildly entertained. One of them walked onstage and delivered an envelope to the MC.
“Who are those people?” he asked Evie quietly.
“Didn’t you read the paperwork?” she whispered back. “They’re LGBTQ activists and journalists.”
“The winners are Carmen and Claude, from QS Dance!” the MC announced. The crowd went ballistic as Carmen and Claude stepped forward and bowed. Derek’s grin threatened to split his face in half as the MC handed them a plastic trophy. Tyler knew that trophy was going into the awards case near Derek’s office and that Derek wouldn’t shut up about it for the rest of the year.
“Oh, what a surprise,” a nearby Cherry dancer griped.
Evie’s hand tightened on his. “What do you say we get out of here?”
Best plan he’d heard in days.
They were delayed by the other dancers, who were shaking hands and commenting on each other’s routines. They left the stage in one massive group, chatting and demonstrating moves. Somewhere along the way, he was separated from her, and Tyler found himself hugging Claude and Carmen at the same time. When he managed to get rid of them, he found Evie talking with the Cherry Studios street dancers near the exit of the pavilion.
Gigi intercepted him. “Hold your fire,” he said. “You got any plans for this afternoon?”
“Yeah.” Tyler itched to get past Gigi. “Take my girlfriend home and make up for being a jerk.”
Gigi’s eyebrow arched. “Girlfriend, eh?”
“Fucking A.” Tyler noticed he’d changed out of the suit. “What are you going to do?”
“Brock said to hang around,” Gigi pouted, “but I really, really want a cocktail right now.”
Mark ran up to them excitedly. “Gigi, my little bro is here! Come say hi!”
Gigi’s face softened. Tyler blinked, wondering if he was seeing things. Gigi kind of looked . . . maternal. And he wasn’t even in drag.
“Oh. My. God. The time has come. Mark, honey,” Gigi flung out his arm for Mark to take, “bring me to him.”
Mark pulled Gigi to the fence separating the pedestrians from the stage area, to a teenager who shook Gigi’s hand. Tyler had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Gigi was being civil. To Mark. To Mark’s family. What the hell? When had that happened?
It seemed this week had changed things for other people too.
“There you are,” Evie said beside him.
He turned to her. “Ready to go?”
She nodded and clasped his hand. They grinned at each other and took four steps into the street before being mobbed by Sarah, Bailey, Vaughn, and Jonah.
“You were awesome!” Sarah shrieked, hugging Evie, then him.
“Wonderful,” Vaughn added, beaming at Evie. “That was incredible. You learned that in one week?”
She grinned back at him. “Yeah! I can’t believe it myself.”
Jonah nodded beside Vaughn. “That was awesome.”
Vaughn held up a camera. “I filmed you. Can I upload it to YouTube?”
Bailey was suddenly in front of Tyler. “You guys were to
tally boss,” they said, fist at the ready. They bumped.
“I take it you two made up?” Sarah asked him, one eyebrow arched.
“Yeah.” They had, but Tyler thought they probably had a bit more to do. “I got my head out my ass and apologized. We’re good.” And he was very abruptly done with all this socializing. Done. He and Evie needed to talk, they needed privacy, and they needed it yesterday. Definitely while he was on a roll with articulating his feelings.
Mostly, he needed to kiss her before he burst with all the feelings swarming inside him.
“Evie, we have to go,” he said.
She patted Vaughn’s arm. “Let’s do coffee before I leave, okay? I’ll be in touch.”
“You’re going?” Bailey asked. “Where?”
Evie took his hand, and Tyler grinned at them. “We’ll see you tomorrow for the Pride march.”
Sarah’s jaw dropped. “Hey, what the—”
He pulled her away before any of them could stop him. Behind them, he heard Vaughn remark, “I’d say they more than made up.”
“No shit, babe,” Jonah replied.
Damn right, buddy.
Evie walked alongside him, eyebrows raised. “Not that I mind being alone with you, but where are we going?”
“If you agree,” he said, “we’re going to my place, where we will talk and eat and watch movies and hopefully make out a lot.”
“Oh.”
“If you want to. The alternative is, I don’t know, a park? A coffee shop? Wherever.” He glanced at her, taking in her happy expression. He’d put that there. Why had he ever doubted this? “As long as we can talk without interruption.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’d like to see your place.” Her gaze turned wicked. “So, just making out?”
He felt himself blushing. “Um. Yeah. No pressure for more. Because that’s something we need to talk about.”
“You’re right, but for the record, I think I’d be amenable to more.”
Heat pooled in his stomach and his groin ached. She did like him. “Oh yeah? You said you were good with your hands.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “I did indeed say that.”