‘This is crazy,’ says Yan. ‘We’ll be here all night. Just show him how it’s done.’
‘If I’m dancing I can’t correct him,’ says Mark.
‘You won’t have to correct him if you demonstrate it.’
‘I’ll pick it up faster if you show me,’ says Theo, moving to the side.
Mark looks at me like I’m an irritation he doesn’t need. I’m a traffic warden about to write him a ticket and he can’t decide if he should argue or just suck it up.
I’m not crazy about this either, but we’re going to get steamrollered into it, so our best bet is to get it over with quickly.
Mark must come to the same conclusion because he opens his arms and waits for me to step into them. We’re not going to dance, I remind myself. We’re simply going to show Theo how to get into hold.
I walk into his broad frame, my gaze drawn to where his T-shirt sleeve hugs the swell of his bicep. The hair on his arms is gold, which is confusing because the hair on his head is so dark. His left hand takes my right, and his other hand settles on my back.
I thought I’d be most conscious of our joined hands – it’s the only place we’re skin-to-skin – but it’s the hand splayed across my shoulder blades that demands all my attention. Its spancovers the width of my back, and even though it only grazes me, the power thrumming in the pads of his fingers is palpable; a hand as deft at cracking open walnuts as it is with a scalpel.
Without thinking, I exaggerate the natural arch in my spine and lean back, exposing my throat. The whole point in tango is not to face each other, but when I glance at him, his attention is laser-focused on the hollow of my neck.
His intensity makes my breath quicken.
‘Oh, that really helps,’ says Theo.
His voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, but then Mark lets go of me and everything comes rushing in at once.
He turns to Theo, bypassing my eyes entirely. ‘You try.’
Mark stands back, and the room feels cooler.
Theo replaces him, and when he takes me into hold, the improvement is noticeable, even if his arms don’t have the steadiness of Mark’s.
‘I knew that would do it!’ announces Yan, like this was all down to him when all he’s done is laugh and point from the sidelines. ‘On another note,’ he continues. ‘You and Nella look good together. I’d pay money to see you dance.’
What thefuck, Yan?
I’m going to give him hell later.
‘We’re not a good match,’ says Mark brusquely. ‘She’s too short for me.’
Okaaay. That was needlessly rude, even if it’s factually correct. I’m the shortest person in my family, and although I’m notshortshort I don’t love it. Why are tall people so insensitive about this?
I catch myself. It’s not the fact Mark’s tall that makes him insensitive, it’s the fact he’s Mark.
I glance at Theo, wondering if he’ll jump to my defence, but he’s Team Brigitta all the way, so suggesting his mate might dance well with another woman is a big no-no.
Brigitta, I assume, is an Amazon.
‘Why don’t you guys try the basic step?’ asks Mark, oblivious.
‘Fine by me,’ I assure him.
He’s not getting the satisfaction of knowing he’s hurt my feelings.
Mark stands next to Theo and counts us in. We begin, but Theo starts on the wrong foot and stomps hard on mine.
I wince.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ says Mark.
