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“I should… um, get home.”
“Not until you dance for me.” I’m losing control. Frantic. I should just let her go. “Now.”
I’m trying my best to be kind. Accommodating.
Flicking the remote, I click on some of my favorite music, lowering the lights.
Even in the dimness, I can see her cheeks flush, that sweetest scarlet that fills her chest, her neck. It’s intoxicating when I draw that reaction out of her.
“I’m not…comfortable dancing in front of people. That was the first time I ever have.”
“It’s just me here.”
“I don’t know if that’s better or worse.” She laughs nervously.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a dancer?” My brain is scrambling to keep her talking, keep her here. Knowing Hellena, she’ll get pissed and go home. I’ll lose my chance.
Suspicion furrows her brow. “It’s just something I always did for me. In private. Well, in classes, too. But that was different.”
“How?” I know how. I’ve taken dance lessons my entire life. Her reasons matter, though. Everything about her matters. More than I want it to.
“There’s no stage fright when it’s a class for some reason. Everyone is learning. The teacher is there to critique, not just criticize, judge, like an audience does.”
“Do you fear my judgment?”
“Fear has been an integral part of our relationship, Evan. Control. Second-guessing myself constantly. So yeah. I guess I do worry about you judging me.”
“Would it surprise you to know I feel the exact same way?” I let something real slip. Something vulnerable. It’s completely against my rules and my nature. It feels right.
Hellena pauses, narrowing her eyes at me. I know what she’s thinking.
That this is yet another test.
It is, in a way.
She just doesn’t realize that it’s a test for me. One that I am failing. Anger claws up through my thoughts, sending my temperature and my mood through the roof.
I’m losing my patience. “I need you to dance. Now. I can’t explain more than that.”
That look crosses her face, the one that precludes her snapping at me and cursing me out.
“Hellena… Please.”
At that I see the look fade, shock at my pleading taking its place. Or she’s calculating, deciding how she can use this against me. That’s what I would do.
She steps away, circling me, walking to the beat unconsciously.
I can tell she’s torn. Fighting with herself.
Turning at the platform, she eyes me, chewing her lip.
Enough.
“Don’t make me… make you.” It slips out through my gritted teeth.
“That’s how this is going to be? You're gonna use leverage to make me dance for you?”
“If I have to.”
