Page 19 of Every Time We Touch

“Is that what you want?” Fuck. I can’t help myself.

“It’s the dream, Teach.” Suddenly, it’s like she’s the one doing all the teasing. She’s the first to take a step closer, so we can finally dance again. “For the record, that clip was really hot. If dance floor porn is a thing, that must be the definition of it.”

A blush rises up my cheeks, but I’m only getting what’s been coming to me. If I hadn’t sent her that clip, however, we wouldn’t be standing here discussing it—and I am kind of loving it.

“Are we dancing, or what?” In a not-so-shocking twist, I also really like Jennifer’s feisty side.

“Of course.” I almost sound demure, but maybe it’s for the best. Especially because I’m about to touch her again—and dance with her. To feel the heat of her body radiate onto me. To hear her sharp intakes of breath as we move across the floor.

When we take a drink break, I sit on a chair a few feet away from her, as though my body needs the physical distance.

“Do you teach a lot of private lessons?” Jennifer asks.

“A few,” I say. None of them feel like this, though. “But mostly couples.”

“Really?” She throws her head back to gulp down some water and the mere sight of that makes me swallow hard.

“Most people who feel the urge to learn how to dance are in a couple.”

“Many same-sex couples?”

“I’ve taught quite a few, but none at the moment, actually.”

“Who was the woman you danced with in that video?” Jen bridges the distance between us. “That did not look like two people spontaneously dancing a tango together.”

“That was Lisa. She’s a pro, like me.” And my ex.

“Are you okay?” Jen asks. “I don’t know… there’s like a vibe shift.”

Is there? Did she notice that I needed some distance between us? “I’m fine. Long day,” I say, although this is my job and I don’t usually allow myself to use it as an excuse.

“Thank you for squeezing me in like that. I really appreciate it.” There’s nothing fake-LA about Jen. She means every word she says, I know that much—I feel it. “Long night as well?”

“Two evening classes.”

“How do you cope? How does your body cope?”

“Not all classes are as involved as this one.” My mind’s still kind of stuck on the vibe shift she mentioned.

Jennifer huffs out some air. “I can’t believe we’re the same age.” She shakes her head. “I can’t wear shorts like that.”

“Sure you can.” I guess that, somewhere in the deepest recesses of my brain, I know I shouldn’t be saying what I’m about to—hence, possibly, the vibe shift—but I say it anyway. “Next week, I expect to see you in shorts and a tank top.”

“Last time I said I was here to obey your orders, but I’m not sure about that one.”

Come to think of it, I’m not so sure about it, either. I’m not sure I can handle her showing that much bare skin.

“I just said it in case all you needed was a confidence boost.” I’m like a dog slinking off with its tail between its legs. “You should only wear what you feel most comfortable in.”

Jennifer nods. “Actually, a boost to my confidence is why I signed up. I hoped learning how to dance would somehow… I don’t know…”

“Boost your self-esteem?” Jen’s not the only one. Learning how to dance is often code for something else. Getting the spark back in a relationship. Putting back the bounce in your step. Learning how to feel what’s really going on in your body. There’s a reason dance is used as therapy all around the world, albeit not so much in the West, where we might need it the most. I nod my understanding and instead of indulging in another borderline-flirty remark, I choose a more genuine kind of conversation. “I’d love to help you with that.” I smile. “It’s why I learned to dance as a child. Because it made me feel something that nothing else could give me.”

“Your parents aren’t world-class dancers who created a genetically gifted dance prodigy?” Jennifer asks.

“Hardly.” I chuckle, because of who my parents are. “My parents are both doctors.”

“Oh.” Jennifer’s eyebrows arch up. “They’re not dancers?”