Danced Close Read online

  Thanks. Hope the rest of the wedding was disaster-free, I replied when he told me the classes were Thursdays at seven.

  It was. And they didn’t notice the cake, promise. They were in their own little love cocoon.

  Love cocoon. Didn’t that sound all cozy? And exactly like something I’d never get. An ache bloomed right behind my ribs. Glad they were happy, I texted. How much are the classes?

  I already paid :) All I need is you to show up on Thursday ;) Kendall’s emoji game was on point, and that wink did strange things to my insides, took that ache and spread it out like warm butter. Maybe I couldn’t get that love cocoon, not now, not ever, but an in-person version of that wink wasn’t really too much to ask the universe.

  I’ll be there. My heart thumped hard as I hit Send. I wasn’t really sure what I was doing, opening myself up to dance again, letting those old wounds dangerously close to the surface. All I knew was that I was willing to risk it for more time with Kendall.

  CHAPTER 3

  Kendall

  I was alone in my condo when Todd texted that he’d do the class, and I literally squealed so loud I disturbed Rococo, my Chihuahua/Jack Russell terrier mix, from his spot at the end of the couch. He growled softly at me before settling back down. I might have two left feet, but I’d seen Todd earlier—he had an innate rhythm. The kind I lacked, and dearly yearned for. He had the sort of posture that I’d worked for over the years with Pilates and yoga, but all the classes in the world couldn’t teach the sort of quiet bearing that Todd had. Once he’d said he’d danced as a kid, I could totally see it. He would have been a little blond cherub with a shy smile and absolute mastery over his steps.

  I was still sad about Freya canceling on me, but honestly, this might work out better for all of us—she got time with her sister, and I got Todd, who would make Lewis far more jealous than a few turns around the floor with my bestie. Of course, there was still the possibility of a friendship with Todd making things complicated at the bakery, but the more time I spent around the guy, the less I cared about that. As long as we kept things casual, we’d be fine. Lewis had cured me of any urges for anything more serious. Serious simply wasn’t in the cards for me.

  I scrolled through my other messages. I was tired and really just wanted to flip on Shameless and bask in the exhausted-but-triumphant post-event high, but my clients and friends came first. I took care of some questions about catering, a different couple wanting to switch their colors, and a potential client wanting to know if a circus theme was possible. Of course it was. I’d work the trapeze myself for a high-budget event that pushed the boundaries of typical wedding fare.

  Buzz. Oh, not more questions. It seemed like I could never get my inbox completely clear. But I brightened when I saw that this one was from Todd.

  I hate to ask this, but could you give me a ride home after the dance class? I live in Northeast. I’m checking the bus situation for that time of night and it’s complicated. I can make it work though if you can’t.

  I smiled. More time with Todd? Absolutely not a hardship. But alone in my car . . . that sounded like a gateway to places that could challenge my resolution to keep things casual. My pulse hummed. Bring it on.

  * * *

  I was almost late to the first dance class because I had a bridal fitting that turned into a tearful confessional, and I needed to do emotional damage control. I left my bride smudged and sniffly, but at least she seemed okay with her dress—and her partner—again. Then on my way to the car, I had a text from the circus-wedding couple. They did want to hire me, so that needed an immediate reply. They were “open to animals as entertainment,” so that could get interesting. Most of my clients waved the rainbow flag in one way or another, but as word of mouth spread, I was getting more cis-het couples like the circus-wanting duo. If I pulled off their event, I could count on expanding that market.

  If all went well, I could maybe hire an assistant next year. Maybe even steal Freya away from my mom.

  When I got to the dance studio, I had to circle the lot, looking for a spot that wouldn’t get me towed. Finally, I rushed into the studio at 7:01 by my watch. Clumps of couples stood around the dance floor talking in groups of two and four. Todd stood by himself against the far wall. The smile he gave me when he saw me was almost enough to make me want to keep him waiting more often—the look in his blue eyes was part relief, part pleasure, but his mouth curved more than I had seen before.

  “Kendall! You made it.” Todd crossed to me. I hadn’t seen him out of his bakery uniform of white jacket and faded jeans before, and that was a damn shame because he cleaned up nice. He looked ready for a Southern church service—blond hair neatly combed, beard looking freshly trimmed, and dress shoes with black pants and a gray button-down shirt.

  “You look great,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, I knew they’d want shoes with a heel, and it felt weird wearing these with jeans.” He gave me another rare smile, this one more sheepish. “You look . . . awesome too.”

  I was getting more used to Todd’s slower speech and conversational pauses, but I still wished he didn’t act as though he was figuring me out like a Rubik’s Cube. And I did look nice. I’d read the part on the website about shoes with a heel too, so I’d paired heeled boots alongside skinny jeans with a lot of stretch to them, and an orange sweater.

  An older man with a gray ponytail, whom I recognized from the website, clapped his hands. He introduced himself as Chuck and his partner and assistant as Ted. I tried to imagine working on a regular basis with a significant other and had to stifle a laugh—never happening to me. Chuck announced that we’d start with the starter step for the first part of class.

  “Now, most people in my classes like learning both the lead and the follower roles, so we’ll switch partway through this segment.”

  I glanced over at Todd. I had a feeling he’d only ever led before, and I had no idea how he’d take to letting someone like me lead. Even with my heeled boots, I was still an inch or so shorter than him. Butch, gender-conforming guys like him often had decided opinions about femme guys and their roles—something that was a large reason why I didn’t have more of a dating history.

  And true to my expectations, he licked his lips. “You mind if I lead to start? It’s what I’m used to.”

  “Of course.” If I was disappointed, I didn’t let my voice show it.

  Chuck and Ted demonstrated the starter step, which was a six-count pattern. Todd nodded like he was memorizing their motion while they demonstrated.

  “Not that different from an East Coast Swing basic,” he said in a low voice to me when it was time for us to give it a try. “So it’s two triple steps followed by a back rock step. You ready?”

  I was still learning what chassés and triple steps and rock steps were, but I nodded. When our hands met for the first time and he put his big hand on my waist, a little involuntary shudder raced through me. His touch was warm and his grip sure. I was clumsier than a drunk goat, but he had a natural fluidity to his motions.

  Chuck counted out the steps and Todd repeated the count under his breath.

  “You were one of those annoying perfect students in school, weren’t you?” I joked as we tried it again.

  Todd snorted. “Hardly. I tried hard, sure, but school and me . . . it’s complicated.”

  I sobered up, reminding myself that learning didn’t come naturally to everyone. “I get it. But dance? Were you instantly good at it?”

  “I was so bitty when I started, I don’t even know. I started competing and getting medals, so mama kept payin’ for more lessons.”

  “That’s—oops.” I tripped again.

  “This works better if you actually let me lead,” Todd said as Chuck called our attention back to the center of the room to learn how to follow the starter step with what he called a throwout.

  “Sorry,” I hissed as I watched Chuck and Ted. The throwout sounded like some daredevil move out of figure skating, of which I was a majo
r fan, but actually was a subtle sort of turn with Todd releasing the hand from my back and leading me into a quarter turn, ending with us holding hands, facing each other.

  “All right, now you give it a try!” Chuck said. “Starter step then throwout.”

  Todd started us off, and I was so wrong. It was as hard as ice dancing had to be. Harder, in fact. At least I could do a basic glide in skating.

  “You need to trust me to lead. I’ll get you where you need to be.” Todd’s voice was more serious than seductive, but my body immediately took his words to the dirty place. Letting others lead wasn’t my usual MO, either in bed or out, but Todd’s earnest blue eyes made it seem like the most delicious prospect ever.

  We tried it again, and I focused on letting him lead, consciously relaxing my tight arms. That attempt went better, even though I still stepped on his foot.

  Chuck was coming around, giving individual pointers to the couples. When he got to us, he had a big smile for Todd. “You’re an absolute natural.”

  “Thanks.” Todd blushed and looked at his shiny shoes.

  “And you . . .” Chuck turned to me, concern showing on his wrinkled face. “Just keep practicing. Listen to your partner. Watch his cues. Trust.”

  Todd nodded, giving me a pointed look. Hey, it wasn’t my fault that trust didn’t come easily to me. The world needed to earn my devotion. We ran through the move again before Chuck and Ted pulled our attention back to them.

  “Now, we’ll do a lead switch. Ted will lead, and I’ll follow. And if you choose, you can switch leads with your partners as well.”

  “We don’t have to,” I whispered to Todd as Chuck and Ted demonstrated.

  “Are you kidding?” Todd raised his eyebrows. “You keep trying to lead anyway. We gotta see if you’re more comfortable leading.”

  I wanted to point out that the issue wasn’t what I would be more comfortable with, but before I could protest more, Todd moved into the follower’s position. He still counted under his breath, but instead of the firm posture he’d had as lead, he went more pliant in my arms. And wasn’t that a heady sensation? This bearded baby lumberjack giving up control to me? I want more of that, yes please.

  I did my best to guide us through the starter step, and surprisingly, it did go smoother, mainly because Todd was so good that he covered for a fair bit of my bumbling. When we tried the throwout, he slithered in and out of the turn, giving me a grin as we finished.

  “Told you. You just like to lead.” He winked at me. “And that’s okay.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Nah. Switching things up keeps everything interesting. I may have not followed very much, but it’s fun. Try again?”

  I wasn’t entirely sure if we were only talking about dancing. His voice was lighter than I’d heard it before, and that wink made my insides wobble. I nodded, and we repeated the move. I had more confidence now, and Todd more flourish as he seemed to embrace this role. Fuck, that was sexy.

  We practiced a few more times as Chuck made his way around the room again. This time he had a smile for both of us. “Much better. Maybe keep . . . zir at the lead when we do the underarm pass next?”

  “Kendall prefers he,” Todd said before I could. For all Todd seemed uncertain sometimes when dealing with me, he was smooth and confident correcting Chuck.

  “Of course.” Chuck nodded. I wasn’t the only person in the room who skirted the nonbinary line, and Chuck seemed perfectly willing to accommodate my preferences. I liked that. Across the room, a bearded individual in a long skirt danced with a shorter person in a jacket and tie, and Chuck had treated them with deft respect as well. “Now, Kendall, when you lead Todd into the slot, feel free to loosen up on your anchor triple-step. This is supposed to be fun.”

  I led Todd through the pattern again, and this time it was fun, and we both laughed as we finished. Chuck taught us to follow the throwout with an underarm pass.

  “Starter step. Throwout. Underarm pass,” Todd repeated as we assumed the position with me leading again. “Now I’m taller than you, so be sure and get your arm nice and high. We’re not square dancing.”

  “Maybe you should—”

  “I like my feet intact. You’re leading. Just don’t strangle me on the pass.” Todd laughed again. I loved how the class really seemed to loosen him up, bring him out of the quiet shell he always seemed to be in at the bakery.

  We put the three step-patterns together, and while getting my arm up was a challenge, it was one I embraced for the look of joy on Todd’s face as he spun.

  “I haven’t thought of my old dance teacher in years,” he said with a wistful laugh. “But I’m totally messaging her to tell her that I missed out. Way more turns in this role.”

  “You do . . . turn well.” I couldn’t help it—my voice got flirtier the more fun we had.

  Chuck had the class do a lead switch, and I tried to be all loose and easy like Todd, tried to embrace the spins, but I still stumbled through the moves.

  “Now before our break, let’s do a little dancing to the music. Feel the music. Starter step–throwout–underarm pass–throwout–underarm pass, and repeat.”

  “You lead,” Todd said.

  It was weird—I was leading, but he had control of the dance, making us both appear more graceful and purposeful with his natural rhythm. When he spun, the movement of his hips and ass was more than a little distracting.

  “You’re getting good,” he praised me on a pass. “You’ll have to wear those boots again next week—they make up the height difference nicely.”

  “Or my heels,” I said absently.

  “Oh that too. Like pumps with a high heel? Just don’t wear anything open-toed yet.”

  I could have kissed him right then for that reaction. He didn’t go all dude bro about the prospect of being led by someone wearing high heels or get embarrassed that I owned said shoes.

  “Can I ask something?” he asked after a few more turns. He had that serious look again, but he’d been so cool so far, I was more than willing to risk some discomfort.

  “Sure.”

  “Your lips . . . they’re so shiny . . . You do a gloss, right? Ever do color?”

  His eyes were indeed locked right on my mouth. I got a little thrill knowing that he thought about my mouth.

  “I’ve been known to.” At this point, it had been enough years that I wasn’t going to apologize for the contents of my makeup case. But unlike when a lot of people asked me about it, I didn’t get all defensive with Todd, who seemed more . . . thoughtful in his curiosity than some. “Why? Would you like that next week?”

  He was silent a long moment, gnawing on his own lip. I was seriously going to have to get the guy some balm the way he abused the poor things. “Yeah, I think I might.” He sounded a bit surprised at himself, giving me a shy smile.

  At the break, he fetched me a water, shifting effortlessly from letting me lead to taking charge again, insisting that I take a chair. I was so used to doing those little things for other people that it felt a bit weird, letting him do them for me.

  Chuck announced that the second half we’d be learning the sugar-push step, which was supposed to be a basic repeatable pattern.

  Todd had that serious, taking-mental-notes look again, so I nudged him. “Sugar push, huh? That sounds more like a designer club-drug than a dance step.”

  To my surprise, he scowled.

  “Sorry. I just meant to be funny.”

  “You do those things?” he asked as he moved into position to follow me.

  “Club drugs?” I laughed. “Nah, I’ve tried E, but that was a pretty awful couple of hours for me. I’m too much of a control freak to really get into that stuff.”

  A strange look passed over Todd’s face, one I couldn’t place. “Good.”

  We practiced our sugar push, but Todd didn’t seem quite as joyful as he had earlier. “Can we add an underarm pass to this pattern?” I asked Chuck when he came around.

  “Goin
g for extra credit, eh?” He patted me on the back. “Sure you can.”

  I’d never been the kind of student to seek out extra credit, much more concerned with doing as many extracurricular activities as possible. My question was less about wanting to impress Chuck, and more about wanting to make Todd smile again, and he had seemed to love doing turns. So when Chuck turned on a longer selection of music for us to practice both the sugar push and the starter step sequence as we wanted, I made sure to lead Todd through a lot of turns, until finally he rewarded me with a grin.

  “You tryin’ to make me dizzy?”

  “Maybe I like watching you spin,” I said cheekily.

  “Well, keep it up.” He winked at me. “You’re turning me all kinds of around.”

  He probably—okay, certainly—meant on the dance floor, but for a second, I couldn’t help but wish he meant he was as infatuated with me as I was rapidly becoming with him.

  “You want to grab a drink or some food or both before I run you home?” I asked as the class came to a close.

  Todd was quiet so long I was afraid I’d overstepped some boundary. “I could eat, but . . .” He hesitated. “I don’t drink. At all.”

  “Ah.” I led him away from the other students leaving the class, and asked in a low voice, “Recovery?”

  He gave me a tight nod that said we weren’t talking about it more. “But I’d be up for some burgers or something.”

  I’d been planning on suggesting HUB, the Hopworks Urban Brewery, or another place with local brew, but if he wasn’t drinking, neither was I. “Would Grain and Gristle work for you? It’s in Northeast. Fabulous burgers and onion rings. They do serve, but I won’t drink.”

  A little smile teased the edges of Todd’s mouth but didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re one of those foodies who knows all the places, aren’t you? I’d be just as happy with Burgerville, but sure, bring on the fancy burgers.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Todd

  I followed Kendall to his car, an older black BMW.