Ramon turns to me, brows lowered. “It’s fromWest Side Story.Your new dance teacher thinks he’s funny.”
Apparently, I think he’s funny too because I laugh—as much at Beau’s joke as its irritating effect on Ramon.
“Traitor,” my PA mutters as he takes position in front of me. His hand lands on my waist, and he grips my right hand with all the warmth of a dental cleaning. As though that’s not enough to let me know he’d rather a different dance partner, he looks over at Beau. “With Mr. Hebert, I danced with Sally and he danced with Iris.”
Beau smirks at Ramon. “And what did I say about that?”
I stifle a giggle. “You sound like a school teacher.”
His smirk becomes a smile. A real one. It’s beautiful. “I am.”
“Really?” Sally asks, sounding incredulous. She looks both confused and a little alarmed.
Beau dips his head in a nod. “High school French.”
A look of relief passes over my best friend’s face. “Oh, so not little kids.”
“No.” Beau shakes his head. “But I’ve taught elementary kids in an immersion summer camp. It was fun.”
Sally’s eyes widen, and she keeps her mouth closed, but I know what she’s thinking. She’s not a fan of Beau, and the thought of him being unleashed on precious elementary children gives her the heebie-jeebies.
“So you just like older kids better?” she asks, unable to let it go.
A thoughtful look crosses Beau’s face. “No,” he says with a gentle headshake. “I like teaching all ages. I just think my high school kids need me more.”
“Need you?” I hear myself ask. His gaze meets mine.
“I teach in a low-performing public school. Most of my kids are low-income and at-risk,” he says, his expression sobering. “It’s not a great environment, but I try to make it better.”
This isn’t what I expected from Mr. Hebert’s grumpy nephew, and I want to know more, but he gives an impatient shake of his head. “Now let’s get moving.” He claps in time with the music. “Ramon, on four. One-two-ready-and—”
I know Ramon is going to step to his left. I know this. I’ve already had three lessons with Mr. Hebert. But for some godforsaken reason, instead of stepping to my right to match him, I go left and we tug apart.
“It’s okay,” Beau says, still clapping in time. I join with Ramon again and let go a frustrated breath. “Start again in four-three-two-one.”
This time, I go right like I’m supposed to, and I even remember that it’s right-together-right-together then left-together-left-together. I mean, that’s why they call it a Two-Step. You can’t get much easier than that. I don’t think there’s a One-Step out there anywhere. And yet in just a few seconds, I’m no longer in sync with Ramon. As though he’s dancing on solid earth and I’m moving around on ice, my feet veer well beyond his steps in either direction.
“Your steps are too big,” Ramon complains. “Step smaller.”
“I can’t keep up with you if I step smaller,” I snap, defensive and quickly growing embarrassed.
He scowls. “Have you tried?”
“You think I’m not trying?”
“I think you’re not breathing,” Beau interjects, his voice calm. “Try to time your inhales and exhales with each two-step.”
I try this, trying to remember his rule about breathing with my belly.Inhale-right-together-right-together. Exhale-left-together-left-together. Inhale-right-together-right-together. Exhale-left-together-left-together.I’m still all cattywampus, just now with more oxygen. Maybe too much.
“Stop stepping so big,” Ramon grumbles.
“I’m getting dizzy,” I announce, releasing Ray’s hand and clutching my forehead.
“Okay, stop,” Beau commands.
“You’re dizzy?” Ramon asks. I hear concern in his voice, but my eyes are closed as the room tilts. And then I’m tilting.
“Whoa.” A hand grips my upper arm, and I open my eyes to see Beau Landry steadying me. He’s frowning again. “Are you alright?”
