If Ever(40)

“Oh my God. That’s rude.” And yet I would have liked to the see the expression on his face when it happened.

“One of the hazards of my job.” He laughs. “With Hank going home, you realize that means it's at least another week before you come to New York, and at the rate you're going, it'll be longer."

"I wish the show would be over already." We're both frustrated with not being able to see each other, and it's worse because now I actually love it.

I throw myself back into rehearsals, trying to keep my constant thoughts of Tom at bay, which works some of the time. The rest of the time we're on the phone whispering during my brief rehearsal breaks, texting when our schedules don't align, and FaceTiming at the end our days. It's obsessive, childish, thrilling, and I love every second of it.

Tom's blind confidence in me and constant encouragement drives me to work harder on my dances. He's the most talented person I've ever met, and I'm more concerned with embarrassing myself in front of him than the national viewing audience.





On performance night the following week, I've never felt more prepared or worried about pulling off a great performance. I feel Tom's presence across the miles as I take my place in the ballroom wearing my glitzy silver cha cha dress. The number goes well, as does our Argentine tango, yet the judges’ comments are mixed with Stephen Harris unhappy with my musicality.

Tuesday night we're back under the glaring elimination spotlights. I worked harder this past week than ever before. Please let us be safe, please let us be safe.

Dominic gives my arm a supportive squeeze. "We're at the point of the competition where anything can happen. Even good teams go home," he whispers in my ear as the daunting music tortures us. I hold my breath.

Marcus MacIntyre drags out the announcement as long as possible. "And the team returning next week is...Chelsea and Dominic!"

I release my breath and hug Dominic. Each week is getting tougher to get through.

Marcus eventually sends Tedrick and Daria home.

"Congratulations on making it this far," Marcus says after they say their goodbyes. "And now for a little surprise... We'll be scrambling the teams and you'll be switching partners for next week."

I turn to Dominic. "But I don't want to dance with anyone else."

"I know. Everyone hates the switch up. It can mess with your progress and has been known to bring down great teams."

Around us others complain as a table with two glass bowls is rolled out.

"In this bowl are the names of all the pro dancers. In the other is a list of dance styles. Each celebrity will choose a slip of paper stating the name of their new partner. That new partner will then select a slip giving them the style of dance."

Panic strikes. It took me forever to get used to Dominic. He gets me. He's my safe zone in all of this.

One by one the celebrities go up and select a name. My only options are Ivan, who partners Haley, and from what I've heard and seen, he's quite the flirt. Or Pavel, Dominic's best friend. Clearly Pavel is the way to go. Dominic will help smooth the way.

But then Molly Gibson, the hair flipping, reality dating show girl selects Dominic. He gives me a sympathetic smile and leaves to join her. I feel hollow as I wait for my chance.

When it's finally my turn, I try to mask my nervousness as I reach into the bowl. I unfold the paper and read the name. Ivan. My heart sinks.

Ivan bounds to my side and gives me a bear hug then a quick wet kiss on the mouth. I step back. He fishes out the dance style and grins. "Rumba." The word rolls off his tongue seductively. "The dance of love. Oh, baby, we are going to be fabulous together."

But it doesn't sound fabulous at all. Ivan is the guy Hank warned me about. He's always hitting on the women in the show. He gives me a satisfied smile.

Once all the new teams are paired up, Marcus calls for our attention. "Congratulations on your new partners. Now say goodbye to your old partners until next week. I can't wait to see how you all do."

I beeline over to Dominic. He reads my expression. "You're going to be fine. Ivan's a great dancer."

"But—"

"I know," he says. "The switch up is always the hardest part of the show. Hang in there and we’ll be back together soon.

Still the first thing I do when I get back to my apartment is FaceTime Tom and complain about the situation.

"It's only one week. How bad could it be?" he says with a laugh, but his doubtful expression isn't much relief. "And if you’re voted off it’s good news because you’ll come visit me."

And with that, I figure I can get through anything.





The next morning at the studio I find my way to the new rehearsal room. The space is similar to where Dominic and I practiced, but the camera crew and producer are new as is Ivan with his black hair slicked back with too much product and wearing a muscle-revealing black tank and jeans.

"Ah, there's my eager little minx, right on time."

I give a weak smile and set my bag near the door. Do women really respond to this?

"I've been watching you since the show began," he says in a tone I can only call smarmy. He struts over to me. "Are you ready to be schooled in the dance of love?"