Page 10 of Ice Dance

I frowned.

“Dance with me now,” he said. “Let’s see who doesn’t have talent.”

He stood loose and ready, hand out, waiting for me to take it. As though he’d take the lead.

“You can dance?” he asked, voice dropping an octave, going low and smooth. His eyes held a silent kind of glittering laughter, at my expense.

Dylan dipped her chin and stepped back, doing the wise thing by getting out of our way.

“Of course I can dance,” I said. Impossibly, it sounded defensive.

“Prove it.” He flicked a stray lock of hair out of his face. “If you’re afraid to dance with me here, then this will never work anyway. So let’s find out.”

Afraid? I certainly was not going to back down from this challenge, and I definitely was not afraid. I unbuttoned my cuffs, rolled up my sleeves, and crossed the floor.

“I lead,” I said.

“Alright,” he conceded, without arguing, and took a step back, lifting his chin.

I was taller; it would appear more elegant if I led. “Let’s keep it simple. Waltz. Box step.”

“Sure.”

No hesitation. He was a dancer off the ice. He’d be very familiar with the waltz box step. If this wasn’t a disaster in the next few minutes, we could perhaps try something more challenging.

I posed, and he stepped in. His left hand slotted tightly into my right, warm and firm. His other hand pressed down on my shoulder. I rested my left on his waist, finding the fit a little awkward. A woman’s hips were easier to find the right placement on. I’d seen him work his hips during his routine. He knew how to move with a feminine elegance. I just hadn’t expected to be holding his hips anytime in my future. Perhaps that showed how desperate I was not to let this competition slip through my fingers.

“I’ll count us in,” I said.

He smiled, and clearly that broad smile was the outside mask for his internal laughter. Well then. A dancer he might be, but he was about to discover I didn’t do anything by halves.

SIX

CAMDEN

“Three, two, one.” Step, sweep, up, dip, glide. Again.

Hasegawa had chosen the easiest of dances, as though I needed something simple to keep up with him. I’d let him have what he thought was a win, if only because my hand was in his, his hand was on my hip, and we were moving.

The first time I’d watched Hasegawa ice dance live, I’d expected him to be terrible. Most people who knew him expected that. He carried himself so rigidly off the ice that there was no way a man like him should be able to dance. But not only could he dance, he was good at it. It shocked me a little every time. Even now, his hand on my hip, our bodies close enough that I could feel the press of him against my chest, a part of me expected him to be wooden and clumsy.

He wasn’t.

It was as though Ren Hasegawa had two people inside him. The man who danced and the man who didn’t. The two halves didn’t meet. The dancer was pressed close against me now. He moved with perfect control, but also a fluidity that couldn’t be taught. It was why I’d watched his recorded performances over and over in the past. I’d studied this man, because he was widely considered to be one of the best, and now we were dancing together.

Alright, it was a little wooden and stiff. He had thrown a drink in my face a few hours ago, and I’d swung for him right after, but he was professional enough not to let that get between us.

Our feet clipped, we both tripped, and Hasegawa jerked away as though stung.

I watched his long legs eat up the distance across the floor. He could move.

“Let’s try something else,” I said. “Foxtrot?” More challenging, quicker beat, but he should be able to handle it.

“American style?” he asked, quickly turning back.

He knew enough to ask. American style was quicker. “Of course.”

“Wait.” Dylan propped her phone on one of the stacks of chairs and started a song. “Ex’s and Oh’s.” It was a lot to ask, to partner up and dance at the drop of a hat. But Hasegawa came right back toward me and struck a pose. I stepped in . . . and we danced. The beat was fast, faster than I was used to, but we had it . . . for about ten seconds. He lost his footing and tore away again.