Chapter Ten
Nico
“Yes! Excellent!” I pulled Toby in for a hug, our chests heaving from exertion as we finished the routine with a flourish. His cheeks were red, loose strands of hair plastered to his face from where he was sweating and his eyes sparkling with delight as he realised what he’d done.
“Thank you,” he said, voice breathless as he leant against me for a moment while he tried to catch his breath. “How was that?”
“Perfect. Fucking perfect.”
“Are you sure? No notes or anything?”
“I’m sure I’ll find something,” I said with a wry smile, gently stepping away from him and putting my hand on his shoulder so I could push him towards the edge of the room where his water bottle was waiting.
There were always things that could be improved, even if it was only little tweaks, but I always liked to focus on the positives first. And on this run-through, there had been so many of them.
Toby’s dedication was paying off in spades, and if he kept this up, we should easily manage to score nines and tens from the judges.
It made me sad that he wasn’t doing the main show because there were so many more dances I wanted to teach him.
He’d do a beautiful waltz and Argentine tango, and I wanted to see what he could do with his hips in things like a cha-cha or a samba.
I could imagine him laughing his way through learning a quickstep and a jive, bouncing around the studio with his beautiful, fiery energy and making me smile every day.
There was something about him that sparkled, and the more he’d gotten to know me, the more he’d relaxed and begun to let his personality shine through. And after we’d had lunch together, it felt like we were closer than ever.
“Do you want a biscuit?” Toby asked, popping open the tin he always brought with him and holding it out, his eyes roaming over the paper stars someone had hung along the walls and from the ceiling. “Mrs Nolan made caraway and lemon shortbread.”
“I don’t think I’ve had caraway before,” I said as I walked over to take one, casually inspecting the thick finger of shortbread which was heavily dusted with sugar. As well as the lemon, it smelled faintly of liquorice.
“Me neither. I think Mrs Nolan is going through all her cookbooks and finding different recipes to test on us. I noticed her favourite baking book had a lot of new page tabs sticking out of it the other day.”
“We’re her guinea pigs then?”
“Pretty much,” Toby said. “But I don’t want to tell her no.”
“I wouldn’t either. She might stop baking for us.”
“Exactly.” He took a bite of his piece and chewed slowly, but all I could focus on was the way the layer of sugar crystals clung to his lips. “Hmm, they’re better than I thought. What do you think?”
I took a bite, not really registering much about the taste because I was too busy staring at him. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything more than friendship for my celebrity partners, but over the last week, that had started to change.
And it was really fucking with my brain.
Every time Toby smiled, my stomach fluttered uncomfortably, and when he’d put his hand on mine at La Petite Souris, I’d genuinely thought I felt something zip across my skin.
I kept trying to focus on what we were meant to be doing, but that didn’t help because dancing with him required being in hold.
And whenever we did that, all I could think about was the feel of his hand on my arm and his fingers against mine, how good he smelled even after hours of training when we were sweaty and tired, and how my brain swore it could hear his heart beating when he was pressed against me.
It was my own heart, not his, because my hearing was not that good, but that didn’t fucking matter to my brain. It wasn’t here to listen to logic.
“You don’t look sure,” Toby said and I realised he was still waiting on my reaction to the biscuits. “If you don’t like them, that’s absolutely fine. Mrs Nolan won’t be offended.”
“They’re interesting,” I said, because I had to say something and it was the only bloody word that popped into my head. “Never really been a fan of liquorice or aniseed, but with the lemon and the sugar, it’s not bad.”
“It kind of grows on you,” Toby said with a nod as he picked up another piece, looking at it with serious consideration, like he was trying to decide whether to eat it or not.
“Yeah, strangely moreish.” I took another biscuit. I still wasn’t sure if I liked it, but I also wanted more.
“Mmm, definitely.” He smiled up at me, sugar still dusting his mouth. My fingers itched with the desire to reach down and brush it away. Or draw him towards me so I could kiss it away. He’d taste so sweet it would almost be ridiculous.
He tilted his head and touched the side of his mouth lightly. “You, er, you have something on your face. Just there.”
“Here?” I asked, brushing my hand across my face as I frowned.
“Not quite.” Toby reached out slowly, his fingers gently brushing the corner of my lips and the stubble I’d let grow in over the past few weeks.
His touch sent a shiver down my spine, and his eyes went wide as he realised how close we were.
His hand was still resting against my jaw, and I didn’t have any desire to make him move it. “T-There.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We stood there for another moment, our breath slowly falling into sync.
All I could focus on was the feeling of his fingers against my skin and how beautiful he looked.
We’d been this close a hundred times over the past few weeks, but I’d never noticed the tiny details of his face—the length of his lashes, the differing shades of green in his eyes that reminded me of a forest in summer, the fullness of his lips, and the way the Cupid’s bow rounded over the top of them.
Toby might worry about making sure he looked put together in public, but I thought he looked better like this, stripped back and soft.
I’d been around beautiful men before, the television and dance worlds were full of them, but there was something different about Toby’s beauty. Something I couldn’t quite describe.
It didn’t matter to me that he was famous. I didn’t give a shit about that. I’d have stopped dead on the street to look at him no matter who he was. But it was more than that.
Toby was as beautiful inside as he was out.
There was a sparkle to his personality that drew me in and a warmth that could only be genuine.
He was funny and passionate and he clearly cared deeply about the people he chose to let into his life.
The fact that I’d gotten to see who he was under the polish was a gift, and one I was truly grateful for.
I wanted to see more, to delve deep into his life and explore all the nooks and crannies he rarely showed off.
To find out who he was, not just today but tomorrow or on a random rainy day in June.
He fascinated me more than anyone I’d ever met, and all I could think about was being someone he’d feel safe with.
Someone who he didn’t have to wear a mask around.
I didn’t know how to tell him any of that.
Even trying seemed absurd. Like how the fuck did I put any of that into words?
Especially when they’d never been my talent.
“We should probably rehearse,” Toby said, voice so soft it was barely above a whisper.
“Probably, yeah.”
“Should we do it all the way through?”
“Yeah, makes sense.” I swallowed as I forced myself to focus on what we were meant to be doing. Neither of us moved, though. “Don’t forget to—”
“Keep my elbow down?”
I grinned. “See, you can be taught.”
“Sometimes.”
“Let’s see what you’ve learnt then.” I held my hand out to him and he slid his other hand into it, his palm warm against mine. “Do you want the music?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, which was connected to the studio sound system, ready to hit play.
I led Toby onto the floor, where I’d marked out an area with stage tape to show him roughly where he’d be starting. Then I let go of his hand and stepped back. “Ready?”
“Ready.” He smiled as I put the music on and quickly slid my phone across the floor towards the mirror, keeping an eye on Toby while he did his solo steps.
The story behind the dance was that he was at a Christmas ball, longing for a partner, until I appeared and offered my hand.
It had a romantic, pining feel of someone yearning for their lover, waiting for him to sweep him off his feet under the mistletoe, with a joyful twist of the two of them reuniting for Christmas and being together as the snow began to fall and the lights sparkled.
It was something that suited Toby, and he played the small solo well, the emotion on his face making it genuinely feel like he was missing me and desperate for me to appear.
His face lit up as I stepped onto the floor and offered a little bow, kissing the back of his hand before I swept him up into my arms.
But there was something different about today.
Usually, as soon as we got into hold, I focused on his posture, his damn elbow that kept creeping up, the position of his head, his steps, his toes, his ankles—every minute detail of his dancing.
But this time, all I could think about was how good he felt in my arms and how close we were to each other.
He was right there, dancing and smiling, looking so fucking gorgeous that I could barely focus. My heart was pounding in my ears, and every time we came back into hold, electricity zipped across my skin.
And as I lifted him into the air, sweeping him around and spinning him in my arms, the rest of the world faded away until it was just us.
The song ended, leaving the two of us in the middle of the floor, Toby still in my arms with his hands on my shoulders, looking down at me with a breathless smile.
Slowly, I lowered him down, his body brushing against mine as I did. His hands were still on my shoulders and we were almost nose to nose, and if it hadn’t been for our breathing, you could have heard a pin drop.
Neither of us said anything and neither of us moved.
The moment seemed to stretch out like a dream.
And then Toby tilted his head slightly and brushed his lips against mine, the taste of sugar and caraway seeds still lingering on them.