JACK London Contemporary Dance Academy
JACK
London Contemporary Dance Academy
After the never-ending presentation of the courses, we were finally given a lunch break, way too short, if you ask me, at the academy café.
Ludo, despite his nerves, or maybe because of them, basically inhaled an avocado toast, talking non-stop the whole time. I barely managed a few bites of my Caesar salad before pushing the rest towards him, which he happily finished.
Honestly, I’ve no idea where he puts it all. He’s tiny.
Though he’s definitely more hurricane than person.
Now we’re back in the school theatre, where our classmates have just started going up on stage one by one, in strict alphabetical order, for their improvisation piece with Etienne.
The entire teaching staff is watching from the front row, and the very thought of performing in front of them has my stomach tied up in so many knots, I instantly regret even those few forkfuls of lettuce.
With a surname like Visconti, my new friend’s resigned to going up near the very end. I, on the other hand, should be called any minute now.
Considering there are twenty-five of us and each person gets at least ten minutes, it’s pretty obvious Ludo’s going to be stuck here for quite a while. Not that he seems to mind in the slightest.
“What do you think?” he whispers in my ear, his shoulder brushing against mine.
“What do I think about what? Our classmates’ performances or Monsieur Etienne’s technique?” I ask, leaning heavily into the French pronunciation of our new Contact Improvisation teacher’s name.
Ludo lowers his voice even further, basically pressing his lips against my ear to be heard. “Not talking about the technique,” he snickers. “Etienne’s hot as hell and I can’t wait to wrap myself around him… though sadly, I suspect it’ll be strictly for academic purposes.”
I jolt away from him, choking back a noise that might’ve been a squeak. Staring at him, eyes wide in disbelief, I try to make my disapproval clear.
He just shoots me a smug grin, clearly very pleased with himself.
“Oh, come on, McAvoy,” Ludo teases, leaning closer. “Didn’t think the Scots were so prudish… Be honest, you’d let Etienne have a go at you too, wouldn’t you?”
“Shh, keep your voice down!” I hiss, inching back towards him. Then, just to drive the point home, I add, “He’s, our teacher. Our brand-new teacher.”
Ludo just raises an eyebrow and shrugs, like I’ve said something completely illogical. But at least he lets me finish.
“And anyway, even if it weren’t an ethical issue… well, I’m… I’m just not interested,” I blurt out, keeping my voice low.
“What do you mean?” he frowns. “You’re not gay?” His eyes narrow, then he lets out a small, incredulous laugh. “Huh. I would’ve sworn my gaydar was onto something. And Etienne is undeniably gorgeous.”
Ludo looks thoughtful for a moment, but I don’t even get the chance to answer before he’s right back at it, quieter this time.
“Not bi? Pan?” He lifts a hand straight away. “No, okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have asked. That’s your business” He grimaces, rubbing a thumb over his lower lip. “It’s personal, I get it… I’m just not exactly brilliant at keeping my mouth shut.”
Well. There’s finally something we have in common, but I’d rather not point that out. Instead, I decide to answer him.
“I… I actually don’t know,” I mumble with a shrug, keeping my eyes on the stage, where one of our classmates is currently putting on a pretty impressive performance with the infamous Etienne.
As I watch them move, all fluid lines and soft control to the rhythm of James Blake, I find myself adding, barely above a breath, “It’s not about someone’s gender for me. I don’t really do instant attraction. To feel anything, I need… a real emotional connection. And that doesn’t happen often.”
Ludo studies me for a second. For the first time since we met, there’s no spark of mischief in his eyes, the one I’d been slowly getting used to.
Instead, he says quietly, in that warm Italian accent of his, “Thank you for telling me, Jack. And I promise I’ll be more discreet from now on. I really hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“Don’t worry, Ludo,” I murmur. “And I don’t want you to start walking on eggshells around me.
I like you the way you are.” I glance at him, earnest. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to censor yourself around me.
I know what that feels like, and it’s not exactly the best foundation for a friendship. ”
I take a breath, then add, “If something you say or do ever makes me uncomfortable or embarrassed, I’ll tell you. And I trust you’ll do the same with me.”
His face lights up immediately, and as he reaches out his hand, he murmurs, “Deal!”
Then, grinning with satisfaction, he adds, “So, you do want to be my friend, huh?”
I can’t help but smile back at him.
As infuriating as Ludo can be, he’s also completely transparent with his emotions, I can practically read everything on his face.
And the idea of having a friend like him to share this journey with… actually feels pretty good.
Just as I’m trying to come up with a witty comeback to put him in his place, I hear my name being called out by a rather impatient Claire Donovan: “McAvoy? Jack McAvoy, are you with us or have you already decided to throw in the towel?”
She’s speaking to the whole theatre, and everyone starts glancing around, confused, while Ludo practically tries to sink into his seat and disappear.
I get to my feet, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, and try to sound loud enough to be heard: “Um… Here, I’m here… Miss Donovan… I mean, Claire… Sorry…”
God, what am I doing?
I take off my sweatshirt and make my way toward the stage in complete silence, under the watchful eyes of the Artistic Director and the entire teaching staff.
I tell the sound technician which track I’ve chosen, and then finally walk to the centre of the stage, where Etienne is already waiting for me.
Claire walks off without saying a word and joins the rest of the teaching staff, who are now seated in a semi-circle of chairs arranged just in front of the back curtain.
Up close, Etienne is even more captivating than he appears in the promo photos or videos. He radiates that typical stage-animal charisma and a kind of raw sexual magnetism that, even though it has absolutely no effect on me, is still hard to ignore.
“I heard you asked for When We’re Older by James Blake,” he says without preamble. “Interesting choice… I’m guessing you’ve used it more than once as the backdrop for one of your strongest pieces. You all do.”
Then he adds, almost casually, “But remember, I’m the one running the show here, and I make the rules.”
He says it almost like a warning, and my throat goes instantly dry.
I give a faint nod, thinking he’s done speaking, but then he adds, “I’m very curious to see how you’ll follow my lead… and especially to find out what your signature move is, Jack…”
Even though his English is practically flawless, he draws out the last syllable of my name ever so slightly.
It’s subtle, probably goes unnoticed by most, but not by me.
This man is beautiful and dangerous. A predator who knows it. And I suddenly realise that if I’m not careful, he’ll be more than happy to devour me whole.
Etienne is one of those rare dancers who manages to combine raw, masculine presence with an astonishing elegance.
And as soon as the music starts, he begins to wrap around me and release me again, in movements that are both fluid and sharp.
Improvising in contemporary dance is one of the biggest challenges, because it’s still a controlled improvisation, an artist has to be able to draw on their entire technical arsenal. But improvising as a duo? That’s by far the hardest challenge of all.
Especially when you don’t know your partner well, because the trust at the heart of a strong duet has to be built step by step, in the moment, without knowing if, or how, you’ll be able to rely on the person in front of you.
Etienne is at least ten centimetres taller than me, and the physical difference between us, along with his greater experience, of course, initially makes him the dominant partner in our pairing.
But the adrenaline buzzing through my body doesn’t freeze me; little by little, it turns into something electric, something that pushes me to take control of the performance instead of simply following my teacher’s lead.
He moves around me, fluid and precise, tracing a boundary with his body as if to keep me confined within the space he’s defined, but I slip beneath his arms, between his legs, circling him in ways he doesn’t expect, until I’m the one setting the rhythm of our dance.
That’s when I sense a shift in him.
Instead of resisting, as I thought he might, he meets the change with surprising grace, adapting effortlessly to my movements as if he’s always known how to follow as well as lead.
From that moment, we begin to move together, truly together, in a synchronised flow that builds into something harmonious and breathtaking, right up until the final notes of the track.
We’re standing face to face, breathless and drenched in sweat, like we’ve just run a marathon. Or had sex, I suppose, though I wouldn’t know from experience.
But from the look Etienne gives me, I’m fairly certain that’s exactly where his mind has gone. Whatever he’s thinking, though, he keeps it entirely to himself.
He gives me a subtle nod, a silent gesture of approval, eyes still gleaming with adrenaline, and simply says, “Not bad, Jack…”
Then he turns and walks off to prepare for the next student, catching the bottle of water handed to him by a stage assistant and drinking deeply, all under the watchful gaze of his captive audience.
I return the nod, even though I know he’s no longer looking; he’s already focused on the next student, a girl staring at him as if he were some sort of miraculous vision.
As I step down from the stage, I catch a glimpse of the stunned expressions on the teachers’ faces… and suddenly, it dawns on me: the performance went well. Really well. Despite everything.
For the first time since I walked into this place this morning, I let myself take a full breath.
And I realise I can actually do this.