Chapter 10
LUCAS
Emilio - my new dance instructor - was sizzling hot.
Latino. Friendly smile. A perky mop of dark hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed since tumbling out of bed.
And that body ... the dude was fucking hot.
He smelt good too, some heady mix of fresh pine and chocolate and fresh sweat.
Every time I accidentally dragged in a lungful of his scent, my head spun, and my dick began to thicken.
Luckily, I had to concentrate so hard on Emilio's leads that this never remained a problem for long.
I'd come into the studio with my confidence in tatters.
It had been mortifying to have the hot guy I'd gotten up the courage to ask to dance tell me my following wasn't up to scratch.
The humiliation had been intense. I'd felt so inadequate, and even though Aunt Macie had kindly offered me private lessons with Emilio, I'd very nearly backed out at the last minute.
I was so glad I hadn't.
Emilio was a cool guy; easy-going and nothing seemed to rattle him.
I'd worried I might get some stern older guy but nothing could have been further from the truth.
Emilio's cheerful grin had set me at ease very quickly, and he'd made me feel better about my dance fail by explaining it hadn't been up to me to reach my partner's standard, and he should have adjusted for me.
I actually found dancing with Emilio easy and fun.
When I stuffed things up, he just laughed, explained what I should have done, and then we practiced the move until I got it right.
When I went home that night, my spirits were soaring and my head was bopping to the song playing over and over in my head.
My second visit to Emilio's studio was the Thursday afternoon of the following week, and when I got there he greeted me like an old friend. I loved this easy-going and casual attitude, such a friendly guy.
"Hey, Lucas," he embraced me enthusiastically. "How was your week, parcero?"
"Good, good. What did you just call me?"
Emilio looked confused for a minute, then he grinned. "Oh, parce, right? I'm Colombian, sometimes a few spanish words creep in. Parce, parcero - it's a friendly way of saying 'dude, or 'bro', something like that anyhow."
A little heat crept into my cheeks. I'd spent most of my week thinking about how it felt to dance with him.
It was quite different to any previous dancing I'd done.
Smooth as honey, fun, and I'd felt a curious connection while we danced.
Maybe part of that could be attributed to my undeniable attraction to him, but even so...
I'd floated around on a cloud all week, excited for and barely able to wait for our next lesson.
"Okay, we warm up, and then we jump straight into it," said Emilio, leading me to his studio.
The glass door clicked shut behind us, and we were alone.
For one entirely inappropriate moment I had the thought that we could kiss in here and no-one would even know it.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force the image from my mind.
I didn't even know for sure if the guy swung that way yet, though I had my suspicions.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I was just... thinking about something else. I.. I'm good." Fuck! I was grateful when Emilio ignored the tell-tale flush he must've seen on my traitorous cheeks, and the next moment the catchy rhythm of a bachata song filled the room.
At the end of the lesson, Emilio wiped a hairy forearm across his brow. I was glad to see I wasn't the only one finding the dancing energetic. I'd thought I was pretty fit but a solid hour of dancing was taking things to a new level of cardio.
"Hey," Emilio said as he disconnected his phone from the sound equipment in the corner. "I'm thirsty. Wanna join me for a drink? There's a pub down the corner."
I swear my heart inappropriately missed a beat. I felt it as an extra hard thud in my chest as the next beat took up the slack, but I tried to play it cool. No point in looking too eager.
"Ah, sure. Lemme change my shirt, I've got a spare in my bag."
"Don't worry about it, parce. It's 4 o'clock. The pub will be filled with all the tradies, everyone will be stinking out the joint. No-one will notice us."
I laughed. Trust Emilio to not give a fuck. But I wasn't so sure. Sydney was an alright place, but I'd still had enough experiences to be cautious where I showed up.
"Tradies... you sure about this?" I asked doubtfully, imagining a room full of toxic masculinity.
"You bet," Emilio winked at me. "I go there all the time. Lots of eye candy!"
"Sure then. Let's go," I said. Eye candy was always appreciated, though to be fair, I was walking in with my own.
And his comment had pretty much confirmed what I'd suspected... Emilio was definitely into men.