Home > Darling, Dance with Me(4)

Darling, Dance with Me(4)
Author: Aisling Magic

I shake my head. “It’s okay.” But it’s not. I haven’t allowed myself to think about Ryan since I arrived in Wishme, and now that she’s mentioned him, my heart tightens. “And he’s not my Ryan,” I correct her.

Candee gets up from her bed and comes to sit on mine. She places a hand on my shoulder. “Do you want to talk about him?” I’ve only told Candee that I broke up with my boyfriend, so she doesn’t know the whole story.

“My dad’s firm moved to town two years ago. He started mingling with other lawyers there, and I met Ryan and Paula, who were best friends.” A burst of mirthless laughter escapes me. Best friends—they were best friends, and I was the third wheel.

I wipe away the tears sliding down my cheeks. “Six months ago, Ryan and I started dating. He was sweet, caring. The perfect boyfriend. Never in a million years did I think he’d be cheating on me with Paula.”

Candee inhales sharply. “Geez … the friend?”

I nod. “I never had many friends, but I liked Paula. And because she was my one serious friend, I considered her my best friend. I used to tell her everything. Things about Ryan, so it hurts to have her betray me in this way.” This is the first time I’ve spoken these words aloud, and it doesn’t feel good. “I didn’t love Ryan, but I liked him. We were heading to different colleges, and a long-distance relationship would have been a pain. We were thinking of ending things once we embarked on this college journey, but then I caught them kissing.”

Candee listens patiently as I tell her how I stayed rooted to the ground, looking at them until they stopped kissing and turned around to see me lurking there like a creep. And how I ran.

“You’re not going to like what I’m going to say, but maybe they were already in love, and when you started dating Ryan, they realized it,” she says, and my jaw clenches.

“This is not a book, Candee. It was my relationship. My life,” I scold her.

“I know, but maybe it wasn’t your story,” she says, and with two fingers under my chin, she turns my head toward her. “We’re the main characters of our story, and the secondary characters of other people’s stories, so in the end, if you’re not happy, then your story has yet to be told.”

#SheNailedIt

#CandeeIsaPoet

#IThinkIGotaNewBFF

 

 

FOUR


#MyHandsonCandeesBooty

“Take the heels.”

“Is it necessary?” I ask, taking two pairs and dropping them in my backpack.

“In our case, yeaahhh,” she replies, pulling the jeans up. She wiggles, wiggles some more, and jumps, finally pulling them up her waist. She sucks in a deep breath, quickly tugs the zipper and buttons her jeans. She exhales loudly, muttering hippobooty under her breath.

I laugh at her expletive as I check the contents of my bag: heels, a bottle of water, the entrance pass, phone, and perfume (very important, according to Candee). “All set,” I announce, zipping the backpack.

Candee inspects her clothes in the mirror. Sticking her boobs out, she stands on her toes and lifts her ass. “Is the T-shirt tight enough?” she asks as I try to see myself in the mirror.

Tight enough? Any tighter and I fear her boobs will tear the material off. “If Nicholas’s eyes don’t stick to certain parts of you tonight, then he’s blind,” I allude, finally getting to see myself in the mirror. I take a last look at my fitted jeans and pale-purple shirt with “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to come” written in black across the front material. Yes, it’s a deliberate choice, and no, I’m not sorry.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” She runs a hand over her French braided hair and nods.

I hang the backpack on my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

By the time I park the car at the studio, it’s 7:25 p.m. Not as late as I wanted, but that’s fine—he’ll get the message.

We spray some perfume before getting out of the car and then walk into the studio. To my surprise, there are at least twenty people of varying age in the room. For some reason, I thought that only young people would be interested in dancing.

“You came.”

My heart thuds and the hair on my neck stands, recognizing this voice. I turn around, and my gaze lands on Remi. He’s dressed in a black shirt tucked into black pants, and his hair is styled in a perfect mess with a few curls falling on his forehead. He looks … fine. When my gaze reaches his, I notice he’s reading my shirt. A ghost smile touches his lips—he got the message, all right.

“We start in five,” a girl shouts, and everyone starts pairing up. At that moment, I realized that it’s going to be weird dancing with Candee.

#MyHandsonCandeesBooty

#Awkward

“Get ready,” Remi says and joins the girl. Is she his girlfriend?

Candee signals me to join her near the table at the corner of the room. We remove our sneakers, put on the heels, and join the class. Remi stands right in front of everyone while the girl stands at his side. And with his headphones around his neck, Nicholas is behind the DJ's console.

The girl calls everyone’s name to check attendance, and then Remi begins the class. “Good evening,” he greets, one hand in his pocket and the other in motion as he speaks. “I am Remi, your instructor. This is Layla, my dancing partner, and Nicholas, our DJ and sometimes dance partner, whenever needed.” He points at them, and they nod in greeting. “And since this is the first class, we’ll cover the basics—body movement.

“Dance is a language you speak with your body, and that’s what you’ll need to remember in this class—speak with your body. And for those of you who don’t know what kizomba is,” he says, landing his gaze on me. Heat crawls up my neck, and I drop my gaze to the floor. “It’s where two romantically involved people use sensuality to express and communicate …”

Candee nudges me with her elbow, and I lean closer to her. “In this case, we’re as romantically involved as cow’s dung to hay. We do stick together, but it doesn’t mean we belong together,” she whispers, and I cough to hide my laughter while hoping that I’m not the dung in this comparison.

#FailedSimile.

“So, to begin with, we’re going to do some dance exercise, okay?”

We’re made to stand with some distance between us so that we don’t knock into anyone while doing the steps.

“Listen to my instructions and observe Layla and me. Ready?”

I may have never danced in my life, but this brings out emotions in me—excitement and thrill. Maybe because it’s the first time I’m doing something where I didn’t ask permission. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to feel what Mom felt when she danced.

My palms sweat with anticipation as I wait for the music to fill the room. That one tiny step toward freedom. Mom always says, “when it’s time to fly, Kaci, you spread those wings wide, and you soar.” I take a deep breath. I’m ready, Mom.

#SpreadingMyWings

Remi signals Nicholas, and he plays the music. “All right, everyone, move with the beat.” Remi and Layla turn their back toward us, and even though Candee’s not very close to me, I still hear her groan and mutter.

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