“Wait,” he says, “I was not done with everything I wanted to do.”
“I just…” I kiss him on the lips. “You know when you said you were relieved? That night?”
“I remember every single thing about that night.”
“I am so relieved right now. That you’re here. That we have time and space to just be together.”
“Me too.”
He kisses me again and then rolls me onto my back and gently slides my hands up and then behind my head. It reminds me of a dance move, smooth and certain.
“Hands up here, please,” he says in his teacher voice. “I am requesting to be the leader for a while.” Then his mouth is on me. and he is better at this than Nick, I think distantly. He is more attuned to my reactions, more willing to observe exactly what is working, how much I am melting, what I need. Then he slides his hands down and I am so flooded with feeling that I’m not thinking anything at all. When I come, it is an echoing loop that leaves me wrung out. I can feel his head resting against my shoulder like he’s done the same, though he hasn’t.
I whisper in his ear. “This is where I should show you what I want to do, but I’m not sure I can move.”
He gazes at me, full of affection. “You don’t have to move.”
“I want to,” I murmur, and then I push him backwards. When I am on top of him, I get to watch his eyes as he starts to look as overcome as I am. I hold both his hands in mine.
“Keep your frame,” I whisper.
The next morning,we get up very early and have our first morning dance around my coffee machine and toaster.
This could be every day, I think.I could get used to the kisses over breakfast and the carefully washed dishes. I could get used to amazing sex with someone who puts me first.
It isn’t scary. I’m not caught up in the thrill of whether he’s going to stay or go. I can just trust that he is going to be there.
When I go back to my bedroom to get ready for a shower, my phone buzzes, and I glance at it. I immediately relax when it isn’t Abby. Hannah is fine. Everything is fine. Abby is going to be flying back to New York with Hannah in another day or two, and then Abby will stay on my sofa for a few days while she visits and writes her financial articles in her pajamas.
It is Helen texting me.
Guess who went viral?her text reads, and I click on the link, expecting to see Dion smoothly drifting across the floor with Paula.
But no. It is me and Connor, dancing together with the label: ‘Newbie dancer with two months experience and Connor Yung. IMPROVISED DANCE!!!!’
Who even posted this? I scan the page, then quickly text back to Helen.
Dion Reyes posted this???
She replies,He reposted someone else’s video,but he added the label. He must like you!
That is when I finally sit back and watch the video. It has over eight hundred views already, which is pretty astonishing. I look good, I can admit to myself. Not amazing, and nothing compared to someone like Paula or Yukka or Eliana. But I look good for a beginner. And more importantly, I look like I’m having fun.
I dare to read the comments, and most of them are about how hot Connor is, and how he can make any partner look good, which is fair. Then there are comments about how I couldnothave only been dancing for a couple of months, which I decide to take as a win. Finally, there is my favorite comment of all, the one that I’ve seen on dozens of my favorite videos:There is no way this was improvised! That had to have been planned in advance.
I know the feeling. It was exactly how I felt when I first saw an improvised dance: I felt like the dancers were so connected to the music that everything must have been choreographed ahead of time. Now I realize it’s just about experience and being in the zone, like being in a jam band. It’s something I could talk about with Nick, if we ever reach the place where we can talk about things like this. I hope we will.
I decide to ‘like’ the post on YouTube. Maybe I’ll get a TikTok account now, too, just to follow whatever Dion is up to.
Two days later,on Tuesday night, I meet Abby and Hannah at the airport after work.
By the time we’re at baggage claim, it’s clear that their patience with each other has grown thin. Three weeks is the longest that Hannah and I have ever been apart, and Abby has had to set some ground rules in order to get her work done. They are sniping at each other when I see them, and they never do that; Hannah has always worshipped the ground that Abby walks on, but now she is groaning the words “I knooooooooowww” when Abby guides her out of the path of someone’s luggage cart.
Once we are tucked into a taxi, though, they start flipping through photos on Abby’s phone, updating me on their trips and swimming holes and whale watches, and I sense that everything is going to be okay between them once I get Hannah tucked back into her own bed.
“It was a long trip for her,” I say quietly when Hannah starts to nod off.
“It was good for the first two weeks,” Abby replies with a shrug.
