5. It Takes Two to Tango
5
IT TAKES TWO TO TANGO
Gabriel
I watch Magnus as he enters the ballroom. He scans the large room with some reservation in his expression. Why I can't take my eyes off him, I don't know. There's something about him that fascinates me. If only I knew what it is.
He's a man, damn it! There’s no reason why he should fascinate me — not a single one! And I'm so deep in thought that I jump when Susan suddenly calls Magnus' name loudly right next to my ear.
His head snaps in our direction, and within a second, a cheeky smile stretches across his delicate lips. The strange feeling in me intensifies — what's going on?
"How were your first few hours on board?" Susan asks Magnus as soon as he’s close enough to talk to at a normal volume. She grins smugly at him too.
Yes, sis, we all know what you've been doing for the last few hours — even though I flat out refuse to think about it.
Magnus shrugs indifferently. Can I sense a little tension in him, or am I mistaken? I've only known the man for two hours so it would be crazy to assume I can interpret his body language already, right?
"I explored the ship a bit," Magnus replies calmly.
Before Susan can continue her interrogation, someone claps their hands loudly, and I turn in the direction of the sound. A man I’d guess to be in his late fifties is standing in the center of the ballroom. He has very obviously dyed black hair, the same shade as his suit in fact, that’s tightly slicked back with enough gel to float this ship. His pointed nose brings the image of an oversized raven to mind. I bite my lower lip hard to stop myself laughing out loud when he lifts his arms like wings.
He says something in rapid Spanish. The only words I understand are a name — Ernesto de Vale. I’m pretty sure that was the name Magnus mentioned earlier as the name of our dance instructor — not that his polished black shoes and graceful posture didn't already make me suspect it.
After a few minutes, he switches to broken English, which is a complete surprise, "We also have a few guests who don't speak Spanish. To them, welcome!" As he says the last words, he sweeps his hands through the air and smiles so broadly that a row of perfectly white teeth becomes visible.
Susan emits a loud "Woohoo" at these words, and I wish the ground would open up. Why did I think it would be a good idea to go on vacation with my little sister?
Maybe because you miss your family so much during the season? my subconscious answers immediately.
I don't have more time for introspection because Ernesto turns to us, his gaze sweeping over Susan and Klaus for a moment, then gliding over Magnus and me. Heat rises to my face under his intense scrutiny.
Oh god, I'm standing way too close to Magnus!
Does The Raven think we’re together? Does he think that we’ll be dance partners?
Shit, I haven't even thought of that! Panic-stricken, I scan the assembled group. Everyone here seems to be here in pairs.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
At the other end of the hall, I spy two women standing side by side. A wave of relief washes over me that’s so strong that I exhale deeply — I hadn't even noticed I’d been holding my breath.
Ernesto de Vale doesn't notice my little crisis. He turned around again ages ago and is explaining something in rapid Spanish to his audience. Unfortunately, though, my reaction hasn’t escaped either Susan or Magnus.
My sister looks at me, her brow furrowed, while Magnus' expression is slightly suspicious. He steps away a little, putting a little more distance between us. My stomach clenches. I don't want him to move away, so I give him my best reassuring smile. It doesn’t work.
Damn!
What's wrong with me today? Why should I care what Magnus thinks of me? These thoughts are followed swiftly by more — Why don't I want him to move away? Why do I immediately miss the warmth that his body radiates? — that I push from my mind as hard as I can.
The dance instructor stops talking and all the couples turn to face each other. So, I grab Magnus by the hand and pull him across the room with me.
"Gabriel," he hisses, "what are you doing?"
His question goes unanswered because by the time he’s finished the last syllable, we’re standing in front of the two women I spied earlier. Astonished, they look up from the quiet conversation they were having with each other.
I estimate them both to be in their mid to late thirties, and — well aware that I’m stereotyping — they strike me as typical Spanish women with dark hair and eyes, and olive skin. They’re a little older than Magnus and me, but they’re both extremely attractive. My gaze is drawn to the devilishly high heels they both have on — one woman’s heels are black, the other’s are bright red.
The lady in black shoes raises one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows in a silent question. I put on my most winning smile and tackle our mutual problem head-on.
"I assume we’ve been assigned as your partners for this class."
I gesture between the women and Magnus and I, but as I do, I notice Magnus’ expression darken thunderously. I realize I must have said something wrong, and when I turn back to the ladies, this thought is confirmed. The sterner-looking one of them is also looking daggers at me. Heat rises to my cheeks.
The woman with red heels puts a steadying hand on her friend’s forearm before turning to me.
In almost accent-free English, and with a sweet smile on her lips, she says firmly, "You assumed wrongly. I’m my wife’s partner."
My jaw drops.
Meanwhile, Ernesto de Vale has moved his jiggling butt in our direction. His gaze wanders a little nervously between the women and me before whispering, "Tango is for everyone!" in my ear.
His hand lands firmly on my shoulder, and he spins me so that I'm facing Magnus whose eyes are telling me in no uncertain terms that I’m not off the hook. And I'm pretty sure my face has turned scarlet. To make matters worse, I notice my sister giggling across the room. I refuse to acknowledge her.
Ernesto de Vale has returned to the center of the room and, taking the hand of a woman he introduces as his daughter, Letizia, he begins demonstrating some basic tango steps.
I barely follow his movements. My gaze is directed at the floor as I try to make myself as small as possible — preferably invisible — which is quite hard given I’m six-foot-three. Then Magnus steps in close and I’m overtaken with nervousness. My breath catches and my heart starts beating at a steady gallop.
All I can think is , Why am I so nervous?
Then his hand lands on my hip and a tingling sensation starts spreading through my body. Luckily, I’m distracted from these weird sensations when Magnus grabs my right hand and lifts it out to the side. I have no idea what he’s doing until my brain starts grinding forward again — we’re in a tango lesson, and Magnus clearly intends for us to dance together.
My eyes fly to The Raven and his daughter, but it takes another moment for my brain to register what I'm looking at.
When it does, I whisper fiercely to Magnus, "I'm not being the woman!"
Magnus
With an angry hiss, Gabriel steps back. His words, spoken softly as they were, hang between us as if he’d spelled them out in huge letters between us.
I roll my eyes, half at Gabriel, half because my subconscious seems to be conjuring up some seriously weird images today. I’d so hoped that he’d be one of those seemingly mythical athletes who actively supports the LGBTQIA+ community rather than merely spouting a lot of words.
It looks like — once again — I’m set to be disappointed, and Gabriel is just another macho jock who couldn’t possibly survive if someone accidentally misinterpreted their sexuality — oh, the horror!
The rage boiling inside makes me want to hurl. People like that get on my last nerve! But along with the anger comes determination. Gabriel and I are in this situation now, and we’ve got to go through with it. He can moan as much as he likes later — or throw me overboard — but right here, right now, we're going to tango.
I take a step towards Gabriel, place my right hand on his hip, and firmly grasp his hand with the other to bring it into position.
As I do, I hiss between clenched teeth, "Don't be an idiot! Obviously neither of us is ‘the woman.’ We can take turns leading. I'll start!"
Gabriel
"I'm not being the woman!" My whispered words hiss ominously in the air. As I take a step back, I'm already sorry that I said them.
I was just taken aback by the whole situation, and if I'm completely honest, a bit overwhelmed. Turning up to find a man rather than a woman as my roomie, being signed up for this stupid dance course, and then putting my foot firmly in it with those two ladies, not to mention the looks I got from everyone else in the room — it’s all been a bit too much.
Normally, I can let gaffes like that slide off — you can't be a public figure without growing a thick skin — but this is different somehow. I suppose it’s because whenever I’m in the spotlight, I usually have my hockey gear on and the topic is ice hockey all the way. As for my private life, I've always managed to stay out of the press somehow.
I’m suddenly grateful that Susan was smart enough to book this cruise through a Spanish tour operator. Otherwise, that embarrassing exchange would be in the newspapers tomorrow if we’d have been in Sweden or Terengia.
Shame burns my cheeks, which must have turned the same color as the Spanish woman's shoes — bright red. Thank god, I haven't shaved off my beard since the playoffs ended!
My facial hair could also mask the potential embarrassment I’m faced with now. Magnus may be only inches away from me, but it’s like a chasm has opened between us. My arms and neck tingle uncomfortably — as they always do when I’m stumped for what to do for the best.
As these problems race through my head, my eyes are fixed on Magnus. I may have managed to avoid eye contact with the other dancers just now, but Magnus is a different story. His feelings are written all over his face, and so far, I’ve read surprise, annoyance, disappointment ...
I could go on, but the look of disappointment in his eyes gives me pause. I don't know exactly why. After all, we've only known each other for a few hours and I don't owe him anything. Just the opposite in fact — I paid for the trip for all four of us. Despite this, I hold my breath as Magnus' expression changes again — to anger.
I deserve it. If he wanted to slap me, I’d understand. He deserves a free pass for how I’ve been acting, but then he surprises me. Instead of taking a swing at me, he rolls his eyes and takes a step toward me, bridging the distance between us.
"Don't be an idiot! Obviously, neither of us is ‘the woman.’ We can take turns leading. I'll start!" he growls between clenched teeth.
He’s got some nerve, I’ll give him that.