Page 188 of Cruel Steps

Holden shifted his pocket as he sat down, the ring box catching my eye. I smirked at it, excited we’d chosen to ask her tonight. With everything that had happened after Homecoming, we’d put it off. The game no longer felt like the right place, and we didn’t want something as big as starting our life together to be tainted by what had happened.

The lights dimmed, and the music began as the first dancers took the stage. The room quieted, everyone sitting on the edge of their seats while waiting for the dance to start. I spotted the judges at the center table, their faces in rapt attention.

Lights flashed in time to music as the dancers moved. Mer had tried to tell me the dance styles in each number, but they seemed to enter a black hole in my head, and I could never remember. It was probably because she got so excited whenever she talked about dancing that I just gazed at her in awe and didn’t actually hear what she said.

Glancing at the program, I found the song: “Change” by Kodi Lee. I loved the lyrics, and knew Mer did, too. She always picked music that had a meaning to it.

With each thump, thump, the dancers hit the stage with their feet and slid. I loved how they moved as one, their shape ever-changing and forming. When one of them popped out of the middle and fell backward in a weird trust fall, everyone gasped as they were caught, and the group moved like a wave. Constantly shifting and changing as they flowed to the song. The applause was loud when they finished, and every dancer beamed as they bowed and exited the stage.

“That was a strong showing for her hip-hop number,” Hope said, biting her nail and jiggling her leg.

“Are you worried?”

She stopped biting her nails and glanced at me. “No. Not really. I want this for her. She deserves it.”

“Which number is next?” I asked.

“Jazz. Then contemporary.”

“And you’re sure these are all different types of dance?” I teased.

“Watch and see.” She smiled, her nerves gone.

A piano player came out and sat at the bench, playing an intro before the lights flashed and the dancers appeared as if from thin air.

“I introduced her to this song,” Holden said, smiling.

“What is it?”

“Shadows” by Livingston.”

The dancers were in black body suits, their bodies tilting and bending into positions I didn’t know were possible. When they all spun out their legs in a circle, I watched in amazement, like I did every time. The routine was amazing, in my opinion. Even if I didn’t know how much time Mer had put into it, I’d be enraptured. The dancers took you on a journey, and I willingly followed.

They bowed and exited, the stage going completely dark this time. One spotlight lit the middle of the stage, and a dancer dressed in a white gauzy skirt bent over at the middle. They moved as the lyrics began, opening up like a flower. Their movements were graceful and slow, but then the music changed, and they transformed.

“It’s Mer,” I whispered in awe. She hadn’t told us she was dancing. Holden sat up, his eyes locked.

Her skirt was pulled by another dancer, and she spun out in the other direction and revealed a new layer. It sparkled like embers, matching the chorus of the song “Burn” by Tom Walker. She was joined by the rest of the group, dressed in similar outfits now, and they danced with such passion I didn’t want to blink, afraid I’d miss something. It truly was breathtaking as they all converged, dancing so in sync that it was much like Holden’s art piece—an optical illusion.

It was quiet when it ended, as if everyone needed a second to digest the last few seconds before they could respond. Applause erupted, the entire room standing as they clapped and cheered for the dancers on the stage. The lights flicked on, and they all came out onto the stage and bowed, holding hands together. Someone walked out with daisies, handing them to Mer. She blushed but took them. Thank God we’d made sure no one brought roses. After a minute, they all backed up and bowed to Mer. She covered her mouth, shaking her head as her cheeks reddened.

The music switched over to soft tones, and the lights came back up. The dancers stepped off the stage, mingling with their friends in the crowd. One of the judges stood and walked over to where Mer stood on the stage. Holden and I shared a glance before walking over. We caught the tail end of the conversation, but it appeared promising. Mer smiled when she spotted us.

“You didn’t tell us you were dancing.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I was nervous enough.”

“You were amazing, Mer. What did the judge say?”

“The final decision won’t be made until they’ve seen all the finalists, but,” she smiled, pausing, “they were very encouraging and said I’d be hearing from them soon.”

“Yes!” I picked her up, lifting her into my arms.

“Please tell me we can go home now,” Holden murmured, leaning into her back, effectively trapping her between us.

“Yes. Take me home.”

By some miracle, we managed to say our goodbyes and exited Club Ember within ten minutes. Holden made me drive home this time, but to his dismay, Mer had sat in the front seat with me. The three of us were quiet, the drain of the day taking its toll. Holden gave me a look in the rearview mirror to stall when we arrived.

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