Page 27 of Allegiant

A few people exchange uncertain looks, creeping forward a step or two. I’m about to encourage them closer when Samson suddenly speaks. “Come on, you heard him. Why are you here if you’re going to be a chickenshit about it?”

I almost choke at his words, but they work. There are a few chuckles and sheepish faces, but everyone falls into a neat line on either side of Samson.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and I incline my head in thanks, my heart pounding in my chest. “Great. Let’s get warmed up with some simple stretches.”

I try not to pay more attention to Samson than anyone else during the class.

I fail.

Miserably.

I can’t seem to help myself. My eyes seek him out without my permission. My hands linger longer than appropriate when I correct his posture.

Not that he seems to mind. His little smirk whenever I touch him tells me everything I need to remember and very little about what I should forget.

This man is trouble. Dangerous. Intriguing. And while I might get off on all of these things, I don’t need them in my life.

Not again.

Not after what I experienced, what I saw with my own two eyes. I’ve had enough danger and trouble to last my entire life.

“Oh, no, more like this,” I say with a smile as I move up to a woman who is trying her best to get into second position. I demonstrate the correct stance and add, “Like my old teacher used to say, our feet are allowed to be friends, but they aren’t dating when in second. No touching allowed here!”

She grins at me, and I move on to someone else, correcting them with smiles and words of praise. Samson is doing well, his agility slightly frightening, the sight of his muscles bunching under his thin sweatpants detrimental.

The hour drags like it never has before. I have to concentrate far harder than usual just to get through it. My smile never slips from my face. I doubt any of the students know I’m distracted.

Except Samson. From the intensity in how he watches, he knows.

I think I distract him, too. His eyes don’t leave me for even a second. I don’t think it’s got anything to do with learning the moves.

It’s because of me.

“That’s it for tonight,” I say as the class finally comes to an end. “Just a reminder that you will have a different instructor for the next two sessions as I’m preparing for the big show. But don’t worry, they will be just as friendly and patient as I am.”

I bid everyone farewell, encouraging them to come back next week. I already know which ones will. They won’t necessarily have been the strongest dancers tonight, but the most enthusiastic ones. They’re the ones who had something unlocked in them by the freedom of movement. Who felt lighter as the music took over. Who weren’t so bogged down by the position of their feet or their posture.

But all the same, dance is like any craft. Talent is a great start, but you need dedication to take it far. Dedication and hard work. Not everyone is cut out for it.

Samson leans against the wall as everyone leaves, stoic mask in place and arms crossed over that massive chest again.

I suspect he will be back too, but not for the same reason. He was one of those who took something extra from the class tonight, but I’m not sure if it was because of the dancing…or the teacher.

When the final student leaves, I finally turn to Samson. “Well?”

A brow rises. “Well what?”

“What did you think?” I ask. “Is ballet everything you thought it would be?”

He rubs a hand over his beard. “S’alright. Be better with axes.”

“Yes, I remember when the New York City Ballet performed with them in The Nutcracker. Gave the show a whole new meaning.”

Samson grins, and the sight makes my knees weak. “Cracking nuts with axes does sound fun.”

“While pirouetting.”

“Is that the thing you do on one leg?” He twirls his finger in the air to demonstrate.