Isabella appears. I was aware she was snapping pictures at the beginning of the evening but I totally forgot she was here once the music took over.
“Isabella,” Hayes says, and gets up to kiss her on both cheeks. “The music is wild.”
“Flamenco is very powerful,” Isabella says. She has her bag over her shoulder.
“Come join us for some of the Manchego,” I say, gesturing to the plate of small triangles on the table.
“Gracias. But Aisha wants these uploaded tonight. Plenty for me to go back and upload. Have a nice night,” she says, and leaves.
The music stops and Manu returns to the center of the dance floor, this time with his arm around Esmereldo. “Now. I would like to introduce you to the bolero.” The music begins again, this time soft yet intense. Manu says, “Esmereldo and I will demonstrate. The flamenco is fire. Sharp. Bursts of passion. A solo dance. But the bolero is after the sparks have been set. Smoldering.” The word comes out of his mouth slowly, his accent in full force. “Gentle, graceful and smooth. It’s a partner dance of seduction.”
Manu opens his arms and Esmeraldo joins him with their hand on Manu’s shoulders. I look over at one of the guitarists beginning to play a gentle rhythm on castanets and when I look back it’s as if Manu and Esmereldo have melted into each other. Their movements are so elegant and graceful and they move as one. Esmereldo sweeps the floor in a circle with their foot as their head rests on Manu’s shoulder. They circle the dance floor as a combined force, gracefully embodying the melody of the musicians.
The music stops; the couple takes a few seconds to return to the moment. We all politely applaud. “Now this is a partner dance, but queer Spanish dance is about expanding definition. You can choose one person or two or more if you want and we can find a way to make all combinations work. Or you can enjoy watching from where you are.”
Manu knows how to make everyone feel comfortable. I don’t know what I thought a queer dance class would be but it’s nice to see how it’s based on old traditions with a greater emphasis on belonging. I take a sip of wine and settle into the banquet to watch the couples experiment with this new dance style.
But Hayes gets up from the table and faces the door. Has he had enough of the dance class? I was surprised by how much he let go, but I guess he has reached a limit. With Isabella gone, there isn’t any other reason to stay. We are here for work.
“Do you want me to call a car, or do you want to walk back to the hotel?” I ask. He turns around, lowers his chin so his eyes pierce the shadowy light and says something I am not prepared for.
Chapter 20
Barcelona
Hayes
“I want to dance the bolero with you.”
I let the words roll out of my mouth, slowly grazing my upper lip with my tongue on the L. Despite the promises we’ve made, we’ve been flirting all night. Brady is as guilty as I am. He’s fully aware that the way he runs his hands through his curly bangs makes me crazy. And Brady, I know it’s hot tonight but opening the third button on your shirt to show off your perfectly smooth, golden skin is not weather related. I grab my wine for a sip of confidence and can smell the deep raspberry jam in it before the rim of the glass touches my mouth. Every sense I have is on fire.
I get up from the table and extend my hand.
Brady looks toward the dance floor and then back at me. “Hayes, you don’t have to do this,” he says quietly, lowering his chin so he can look up at me with those impossibly pretty hazel eyes. I pretend I don’t hear him and keep my gaze locked on his. I think about how Manu looked at Esmereldo and how he used his eyes during the dance demonstration to seduce his partner. I can feel the red wine buzzing in my brain, and it helps me take a few steps outside my fiercely protected comfort zone. Since Brady is being the pragmatic one for a change, why shouldn’t I be the playful one? I put both hands on the tiled tabletop and lean in toward Brady.
“I want. To dance. The bolero. With you.” I lower my voice and make it all gravel and force. This seduction can’t come as a surprise to him. The looks that lingered a bit too long over tapas, the way we brushed against each other on the beach. Maybe he’s been doing this just for the camera tonight, or maybe there’s still something between us. I don’t know. But I do know I want to hold Brady in my arms right now and let us feel the music together through our bodies.
“Brady, will you dance with me?” I ask softly, but without any seductive artifice. I’m asking him to let me take him in my arms and dance under the stars and the strings of lights that line the stone courtyard.
“Okay,” he says slowly, as if he’s falling under a trance. He places his hand in mine, and I hold it carefully. I let the sensation of folding my fingers over his settle so I can remember the feeling when I’m pulling an all-nighter next year in med school. I file it under Incredible Moments with Brady so I don’t ever lose it and then guide him from the table to an open spot on the dance floor.
There are other couples and small groups of dancers from our lesson around us, but they quickly fade once I have Brady standing in front of me. The music begins again, and he whispers, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I answer him with a grin I cannot control. I close my eyes for a second. At first I feel the red wine, but that opens the door to the music. It enters my body, the strumming of the guitars, the yearning of the violin. I think about the physicality of the musicians moving their hands across their instruments, a mixture of tender caress and forceful thrusting.
I open my eyes, ready to be present with Brady. I put my hands on his hips and draw him closer to me. He moves his arms, first feeling the side of my torso and then onto my shoulders, but there’s still distance between our bodies, so I let the dancing help us close it. My torso sways and my feet lead us across the floor, and as the music becomes more passionate, our bodies find their way toward each other. The pulsing rhythm pushes me forward and my nipples brush across his chest. I can feel the sweat from his body on mine and still smell the sand from Mar Bella on his neck.
Manu and Esmereldo move around the dance floor, observing and encouraging all the student dancers. Sometimes, Manu demonstrates a move, or Esmereldo gives a gentle correction, but when they come to us, Esmereldo turns to Manu and only says: “Tortolitos.”
I’m not sure what it means, but maybe Brady does because after they move past us, he drops his head on my shoulder. I’m at least half a foot taller than he is, if not more, and I’ve always liked how the size difference made it easy for him to rest on me in various positions. I remember this feeling. Feeling like I was able to take care of someone. Feeling like what I did mattered to someone else’s sense of wholeness.
We glide around the dance floor but aren’t trying to remember the steps or mimic what we saw in the demo. Instead, we’re letting the strumming of the guitar on the stage, the flavor of the wine still inside our mouths and the amber glow from the lanterns on the table create a world made just for us.
I hold him tightly so I can figure out if he is feeling what I am. It doesn’t take much to feel his hardness on me. I adjust to let him know I’m feeling the same way. I softly push myself toward him, and as soon as I do, he turns his face toward me, and I see his gentle smile and his tongue slip across his sweet lips.
I know I should stop right there. This won’t work. I should be logical. Think about the next five years – medical school, a residency, my own practice. But the next five minutes are as far as my mind can get – Brady’s blond curls, Brady’s sweet smile, Brady’s ass. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask, making sure my voice is even deeper than usual. I know exactly how to make it circle around his ear and vibrate across his body. I feel him shiver in my arms and it’s too warm to think it’s anything other than the way my words entered him. Brady opens his eyes slowly, looks up and nods. Within seconds, we thank our dance instructors and get in a car to return to the hotel.
