Instructions for Dancing(21)

We slip into another song and then another. By the time we stop, there’s a crowd of fifteen or twenty people around us. Some of them even walk over to drop money into our tip jar.

I wait for them to drift away before I count up our earnings. “There’s fifty-seven dollars in here,” I say, shocked.

“Minus Fifi’s twenty, that’s thirty-seven bucks in forty minutes,” X adds.

That’s pretty good, actually.

“So how’d we look, Fi?” X asks.

I know we danced those last songs better than we ever have, but that doesn’t mean it was actually any good.

Fifi is uncharacteristically quiet.

“You’re scaring me,” I tell her.

“Me too,” says X.

“It’s still early stages,” she says.

“Yes,” I agree.

She turns to me. “And hips are better, but still nonsense.”

“Okay,” I say.

She turns to X. “And you couldn’t lead a cow to grass.”

He just laughs.

“But maybe together you might have something,” she says smiling.

“Mostly me, though, right?” X says.

“Definitely,” she says.

“Hey,” I say, “just because he’s hot—”

X’s head whips around. “You think I’m hot?”



Gobsmacked is the word I’d use to describe his face.

In situations like this, most people wish for a hole to open up and swallow them into the ground. But I don’t want that. What I want is to be the hole. I don’t know what that sentiment means, but I’m sure I mean it.

“I meant to say she thinks you’re hot,” I say, stabbing my finger at Fifi.

Fifi cocks her head and stares at us the way you’d look at a piece of art you don’t quite understand in a museum. “Huh,” she says.

“What?” I ask.

“Finally, I understand what problem is.”

“Great. Maybe you could tell me,” X says.

“Never mind problem,” she says. “I have solution. Tomorrow instead of practice, you two go out and get to know each other.”

“We’re fine—” I begin.

“Not fine,” she counters. “One of most important elements of ballroom is chemistry. Go out and get to be friends.”

Put like that, it almost sounds reasonable.

X grins. “Yes, whatever it takes,” he says, because, annoyingly, he says yes to everything.

Of course I have to agree too.

We dance three more dances and earn another eighteen dollars.

Fifi takes a ten-percent cut.

Back at the studio, X and I exchange phone numbers before going our separate ways.



* * *





——

There’s a subgenre of romance books I like to call Shipwrecked. In them, the unsuspecting (and usually feuding) main characters are somehow forced to spend enough time together that they realize how much they like spending time together. For example, the couple is trapped in a (small, romantic) cabin in the woods because of a snowstorm. Or the couple is stranded on a (beautiful, tropical, not-at-all-dangerous) deserted island because of stormy seas.

What I’m saying is that Fifi is a storm, X and I are the unsuspecting main characters, and us getting to know each other for the sake of dance chemistry is a small cabin in a snowy wood.





CHAPTER 18





A Strict Definition



Sophie, “Me,” Cassidy and Martin >

Sophie: So what you’re saying is you’re going on a date with the sexy new guy you met at your sexy new hobby. Do I have that right?

Me: It’s not a date

Sophie: I’m using the strict definition of the word

Cassidy: Which is what?

Sophie: Two or more people meeting at a fixed location at an appointed time for a predetermined reason

Martin: Where are you going?

Me: Ughhhh

Me: Ughhhhhhhhh

Me: He wants to go on one of those celebrity tours

Martin: Ew

Me: Right?!

Sophie: I’ve always wanted to go on one of those

Cassidy: Rlly? didn’t think u’d b in 2 that

Sophie: What? I can be shallow

Cassidy: I like that ur not shallow

Me: Are you guys flirting? It feels like you’re flirting



Cassidy: We r not flirting

Sophie: Exactly

Me: ANYWAY



Sophie and “Me” >

Sophie: Why’d you say that thing about Cassidy flirting with me

Me: I was just kidding

Me: Why?

Me: Do you want her to flirt with you?

Sophie: Of course not

Sophie: It was just a weird thing for you to say



Cassidy and “Me” >

Cassidy: No tongue on the 1st date

Me: Shut.

Me: Up.



Martin and “Me” >

Me: I think something’s up with them

Martin: Yeah, maybe

Me: I blame spring

Me: It’s like the pollen makes people extra kissy

Martin: You’re saying kissing is an allergic reaction?