Chapter 6
LUCAS
The girl I was dancing with smiled politely as I fucked up another lead.
If it hadn't already been stinking hot in here, I would have been embarrassed by the flaming of my cheeks, but we were all so hot and sweaty anyway no-one would know it wasn't the dancing making me look like a pink flamingo.
I walked away from that dance feeling about two feet tall.
My head wasn't in the game tonight. I'd focused so exclusively on learning follower parts in the preceding weeks, that I'd neglected to stay on top of my leading skills, which were still a little beginner-ish anyway. And I was also on edge.
But then, suddenly, yes! there he was! In the centre of a group of men, the same group he always came with, all of them laughing and talking loudly as they entered the room.
They seemed in high spirits. A little louder and a little more exuberant than they usually were, it wasn't going to take long before the single girls in the venue noticed their arrival.
Sure enough, heads were already lifting at the arrival of this popular group and a couple of ladies began moving towards them.
I knew I couldn't wait for any better time or I'd lose my chance as they were swallowed up by willing dance partners.
Sucking in a deep breath and drawing myself up to my full height, I tried to project calm confidence as I sauntered briskly over to the group, and manoeuvered myself until I was face-to-face with my target.
"Dance with me?" I held out my hand. My heart thundered in my chest.
A pair of green eyes observed me coolly. Not encouraging. Definitely not enthusiastic. Assessing.
Beat.
Awkward beat.
My stomach tightened. My hand slowly dropped.
I stood there feeling like an insect under the microscope as a pair of green eyes skated up and down over me, his expression neutral, unaffected. No - not entirely. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
"I don't follow." His words were clipped, almost dismissive. But it wasn't a 'no'.
"I can follow," I said, trying to fake the confidence I felt slipping way at his less-than-enthusiastic response.
Another heavy pause. In the background, the music had started and was well on its way through the intro section of the next song.
"Okay, then." He gestured to the dance floor. "After you."
I tried to quell my nerves as I made my way between dancers until I found us space to dance.
I turned. The green eyes gave nothing away as he held out his hands for an open position hold, keeping me at a distance.
I pretended not to notice the shaking of my hands as I put them in his, keeping my eyes just to the left of his face, since we were taught early on that staring into your dance partner's face was all kinds of ick.
He didn't start slow. Half a basic step, four beats, then he was leading me into a madrid step. I knew this one, but I fumbled the execution, having forgotten it was reversed since I was now following rather than leading. We came back together and tried again.
I trod on his shoe when he turned me into a wrap. Fuck!
I forgot to keep my hands up and my hand brushed his thigh dangerously close to his crotch.
The right turn was okay.
Even the one-and-a-half turn was okay, except now, shit, we were in shadow position. I tried to remember the places we were supposed to have physical contact.
"Don't slouch," he said. "You're making this difficult."
"Sorry." Embarrasment heated my cheeks, but from his position behind me he couldn't see that, could he?
I straightened up, pushing my shoulder back to make contact with his chest as I now remembered I was supposed to. I was so busy thinking about that, I missed his next lead. I trod on his foot again. He muttered something that I didn't catch.
My heart sank to the bottom of my abdomen and I felt sick in the stomach. This was a disaster.
I regretted my choice of light blue satin shirt which now had dark navy patches around the armpits; a trickle of sweat running down the centre of my back was probably leaving its own mark.
This was so incredibly awkward. We were completely out of step with each other. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole never to be seen again, or as a second, slightly less favorable alternative, for the song to end.
Neither happened. In fact, the song dragged on and on...
My partner led another madrid step, and I got it right this time.
Thank fuck! A couple more turns, some quick footwork at the instrumental part of the song - that was fine, I was across that - and a stiff but passable headroll - fuck, would this song never end?
I successfully executed a sidewave, a box step...
My anxiety levels began to drop after a succession of moves that while they might not have been the most graceful, at least vaguely resembled what they were supposed to be.
There was only one more occasion where I stepped on his foot, but apart from that the rest of the dance seemed to go quite well.
I stopped wishing for it to end and was almost regretful when the last bars of the song signalled the end.
Still, I'd done it - my first social dance as a follower. Not perfectly, admittedly, but I was proud of myself. Kind of.
"You need to get some lessons. Or stick to leading, if you're any good at that." Ouch! That hurt, and his words annihilated any satisfaction I'd felt at my achievement.
I was mortified. Speechless. Once again, I wanted to disappear into the ground.
And before I could think of anything to say - some witty comeback to salvage my pride - he'd disappeared into the crowd leaving me standing there, humiliated and alone on the dance floor.