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“I can picture that for the salsa class and some of the other livelier ones,” I muse, “But I kind of hope the same doesn’t pertain to your ballroom dancing class.”
“…You’re not gonna like my answer to that, then,” he laughs.
My jaw drops a little, and Brendon snorts. The bartender brings us our drinks, and while I initially feel a little childish holding a mug of hot chocolate at the bar, one sip reminds me that the vodka and liqueur laced through the warm sweetness is very much for grown-ups. Even the whipped cream on top holds a faint bite of alcohol.
Chip glances over our shoulders towards the tree. “There’s the owners,” he remarks, “Looks like they’re about to get started.”
Brendon and I turn to look. “I think we’re gonna go get a little bit closer,” he remarks.
Chip nods. “Of course. You guys have fun. And hey, come see me tomorrow, I’ve got a class at 11. Same hall as this, just the right-hand side, third door. They can tell you at the front desk if you forget.”
I look from him to Brendon hopefully. “Can we?”
He smiles and nods. “Anything you want, love,” he nods at Chip, “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
We bid the other man goodnight and make our way closer to get a better view of the tree, watching as the owners and others hang a wide variety of ornaments. There are a fair number of seashells, but there are also more traditional ornaments, the standard round glass balls, some cutesy Santas and reindeer, and also several crystals that catch the light and send glittering rainbows dancing everywhere.
And when they place a glittering star at the top and turn all of the lights on, declaring it complete, I have to admit, I feel a surge of holiday spirit I thought I’d lost.
Chapter Four
Chip
I don’t know why I’m so excited to see that couple from last night, but when they stroll through the door to my class just before eleven, my heart definitely starts beating a little bit faster.
I’ve never seen a pair of human beings that so deeply embodied every single thing I’m attracted to, and it’s a little unnerving. The guy, Brendon, moves with a surprising grace, given that his physique easily tiptoes into bodybuilder territory. And his girlfriend, Hazel, is a curvy masterpiece.
They were both sinfully sexy last night, all dolled up in a tailored suit and that clingy red dress of hers, but even these dressed-down versions of them are downright drool-worthy. The tank top and athletic shorts Brendon’s wearing show off a fair amount of his powerful physique. And while the oversized t-shirt Hazel’s got on doesn’t do much to highlight her hourglass figure, the leggings underneath it do wonders for her shapely hips and legs.
It’s not too big a class, and I’ve already greeted most of the other students, so I make my way over to greet the pair. “Hey, guys, glad to see you decided to come down,” I tell them cheerfully.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, right, babe?” Hazel looks up at Brendon and smiles.
Brendon smiles at her fondly and gives her a “yep” in reply, but it’s obvious that he isn’t quite as enthused as his partner.
“Well, excellent, I hope you guys have fun with it. Don’t be afraid to ask me if you need help,” I tell them before I make my way to the front of the room to start the class.
“All righty, everyone,” I announce to the room loudly, getting everyone’s attention, “It’s 11:05, left a few minutes for any latecomers, but I think we’re ready to get started here, who’s ready to learn some salsa dancing?” I punctuate the words with a little shimmy that earns some polite chuckles.
There are a few subdued “woos,” so I decide to do the obnoxious performer thing to get more engagement. “I’m sorry, did I just hear a mouse sneeze or something? I believe I asked if anyone was ready to learn some salsa dancing!”
I’m not really one of those people who’s so peppy by default, but I put it on for the class. Sometimes it wears on me, but my more natural teaching persona has been long abandoned. Back when I lived in the States and taught more seriously, I was a bit of a perfectionist, with far less smile and bounce.
This time, I get some genuine enthusiasm, including a loud “Woo-hoo!” from Hazel in the back that turns a few heads. Her face turns crimson, and I grin. “That’s what I’m talking about,” I exclaim, “I need some energy in here!”
I turn on some music and first work them through some stretches. Warm-up is essential at every level, and I’m all too aware that even basic dance moves can be tough on bodies that aren’t used to them.
Once I feel like everyone’s sufficiently warmed up, I get started with some simple moves. Since these classes are all for beginners, and for most people, are a “one-and-done” class, I try and give them a few fun moves that anyone can look good doing, no matter how many left feet they’re working with.
I try my best to give everyone equal attention and focus, but I can’t help but stare at Hazel and Brendon for a good chunk of the lesson. And not just for the obvious reasons.
There’s a synchronicity to the two of them that’s oddly compelling, like they’re just made to fit together. Even though Brendon especially is a little stiff, there’s still just something about the way they move together that makes it hard to look away.
While the idea of a committed relationship is one I’d long since shelved for myself, after my big attempt at such had ended so disastrously, I can’t help but wonder what it’s like to be so in tune with another person.
But thinking about that bringsherface to mind, and I’m trying to maintain the upbeat façade. Going down the Emma rabbit hole is the fastest way to ruin my mood, so I quickly detour from that mental road. I make my way through the room, correcting people’s posture or motion, tweaking this and that, until I find myself at the back of the room with them.
“You guys look great, but here, move your hand down here,” I put my hand over Brendon’s and position it a little lower on Hazel’s back, “And don’t be afraid to pull her closer.”
