Page 29 of Something like Desire

“Fine,” Zach splutters. “Allergies.”

Brenda nods and continues down the hallway, gesturing to two doors side by side. “These are the changerooms, and each has its own bathroom and showers. We’re newly renovated.” She walks a little farther and points down the corridor. “In Studio B, there’s a Latin dance class going on right now, and the last studio is usually where we hold our aerial and hip-hop classes.”

The phone rings and she spins to look back toward her desk. “I’m sorry, but I’d better get that,” she says. “Feel free to check out the rest of the space and I’ll be at the front to answer your questions.”

Once she’s out of earshot, Zach turns to me with an amused grin. “Holy shit, you almost made me choke. Your accent needs some serious work.”

I poke his side, and heat rushes to my face the moment my hand grazes his toned abs. “Like yours is much better. I’m new at this. Give me a break.”

Zach points at a door that’s open a crack, a flash of metallic fabric peeking out. He opens the door farther to reveal a walk-in closet, overflowing with elaborate costumes. “If our disguises aren’t cutting it for facing them in the studio, there might be something in here we can use to supplement.”

He glances toward Brenda’s desk where she’s still on the phone, facing the front door. He slips into the closet, and I follow, closing the door behind me. It’s a small space about six by eight feet with a mirror on the back of the door, a bench, and a tension rod full of costumes on coat hangers. On the ground is a wicker basket, overflowing with accessories. Zach pulls a blue sequined one-piece suit off its hanger, slips his shoes off, and puts the costume on over his shorts and T-shirt. He turns around. “Zip me up?”

“Uhhh... sure,” I say, and I curse my trembling hands. Why is something as simple as helping him with his zipper giving me a tingling sensation in all the wrong places?

I yank the zipper upward, inch by inch, feeling the heat rise between us. When it reaches the top, I lean in close and tap the small of his back, my fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “There,” I murmur, my voice low and wavery.

“Perfect.” He turns around to face me and gives me a wink. Winks usually make me gag, but his wink makes me swoon.I seriously need to control myself.“I think you should try that one on for size,” he says, pointing to a red sequined leotard with a short flouncy skirt attached to it.

“Okay.” Red’s normally a pretty good color on me and it looks about my size. “But I’m going to have to take off my outfit to put that on instead.”

Zach cracks a smile and turns around to face the line of costumes. “I won’t peek.”

It might be my imagination, but I think his voice quivered slightly, almost like he’s nervous.

“Okay,” I say softly, thankful that he’s already turned so he doesn’t see that my face is the same color as the costume. I slip out of my pants and pull my shirt and bra over my head, and a thrill zips through me at the thought of being in my panties so close to him. I step into the leotard, relieved when it fits perfectly.

“Tell me when I can look,” Zach says.

“I’m ready.”

Zach turns to survey me, and I take the opportunity to check him out at the same time. His blue jumpsuit looks surprisingly alluring. He looks at me from my face down to my toes, lingering as he makes his descent. “Very nice,” he says quietly. “I think we look great.”

I reach into the basket, my fingers brushing against smooth plastic, and pull out a black-and-white full-face masquerade mask. With a quiet breath, I stretch the elastic strap and slip it over my head. “Do I still look like Lexi?” I ask, readjusting my blonde wig.

Zach grins. “Wow. You seriously look like a different person. I wouldn’t recognize you at all, even if I did give birth to you. Perfect plan.” He reaches into the basket and pulls out an identical mask, which he quickly puts on. The mask is a cross between what someone would wear for a gala with what they’d wear when robbing a bank—meaning that he looks kind of creepy in the hottest way possible.

Zach opens the door a crack and then motions that the coast is clear. He steps out of the closet and leads me along the hall to the middle studio. Without even a second of hesitation, he flings open the door and prances inside with me shuffling in behind him.

“’Ello there, maties,” he says in the English accent again. Why he’d test out pirate vocab and call our parentsmatiesis beyond me, but he’s sure making it very hard for me not to laugh.

My mom and Nicholas freeze, mid-dip while the upbeat Latin music continues. Mom’s mouth drops open and Nicholas stifles an amused smile. The other dancers, mainly very elderly people, stop to stare at us.

A male dance instructor in tight black pants and a billowing white shirt switches the music off and gapes at us. “Who are you? And why are you dressed like that?”

“Brenda told us we could join this class for a complimentary trial,” Zach says, emphasizing every word with a dramatic flourish. If this guy ever gets bored of photography, he could have a career ahead of him as an actor. “She said you’d be thrilled to have us.”

The instructor opens his mouth and closes again quickly. “Of... of course,” he stammers. “I’m Roncarlo. We’re doing some Latin dancing today. Are you familiar?”

“Absolutely,” Zach says. “Right, honey?”

“Oh yes,” I say in what I hope is a better attempt at an English accent. “Very familiar.”

A bald man in shiny red shoes smiles at us kindly; his wife, a woman with curly white hair and a tutu, squints in thought. Mom and Nicholas, meanwhile, eye us with suspicion.There’s no way Mom and Nicholas know it’s us, I tell myself.Relax.Besides our body structures, every other identifying feature is covered in some kind of costume item.

Roncarlo starts the music and demonstrates a few steps, quickly, then again at a slower pace.

Zach leads me as he steps forward and back, making me move in ways I didn’t know I could. He’s definitely done this before. I’m called back to remembering one of Maren’s philosophies that doesn’t include astrology for a change. She always told me to find a guy who can dance because chances are he’s good in the bedroom too. An unwelcome flush heats my neck.