Page 108 of Two to Tango

“Okay,” I oblige, and I let go and let her take over.

Once it’s time, I take one longer look in the mirror. Deep purple dress with a high slit, glittery flowers. Lush, red lips, my hair pulled back into some sort of intricate low bun that Tara styled. And the shoes. I can’tnotfeel powerful like this.

“Ready?” Logan calls out as he walks back into the room. He’s dressed in a suit. Fitted jacket, loose pants, the definition of handsome. But when he sees me, he stops short.

“How did I do?” I ask shyly.

“You look incredible.” His eyes roam across every inch of my body, from my feet to my exposed thigh, up to my face and my hair. He comes closer, holding my face in his hands, kissing my cheek lightly.

“Thank you for doing this with me,” I whisper, spilling my immense gratitude for this into my words.

He just smiles, as he says, “I’m so proud of you.”

I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t expecting to feel any more elated, now I wonder if I might possibly burst.

“You can’t say these things to me before we have to go on stage and dance.”

He just laughs, kissing me on the cheek again, and below my ear, and along my jaw.

“Oh, I brought you a snack." He holds out a bag of mixed nuts. "I'm sure you haven't eaten, and you need something.”

I just sigh in gratitude as I take the bag from him.

“Vamos a bailar.” He winks, linking his hand with mine as he leads me downstairs to the ballroom.

It’s the most magical thing I could have imagined. And I’m in it. I was worried it would be overwhelming, or intimidating, but in this ProAm part of it, everybody has been welcoming and kind.

This feels like being eight all over again, except this time I’m on the other side of it. And I’m with Logan, too.

“Maybe afterward, we can go celebrate,” he whispers.

“Oh?” My eyebrows lift.

“You and me. Somewhere quiet, somewhere nice. Relaxing.”

“Sounds like you’re describing my bed.” I smirk.

“Maybe I am,” he waggles his eyebrows and I laugh in response. He leans in to kiss me, out in the open, and this feels even more freeing than the dance has. This feels even more comfortable, even more familiar, even more like home.

We find Tara, Delfi, and T sitting at a table, waving excitedly, blowing kisses, taking pictures on their phones.

What started as a secret, something I found joy in behind everybody’s back, has become something to be shared. Joy that could no longer be contained, that found an outlet and support in everybody here right now.

In showing up for myself, they showed up for me, too, and that has been the best gift.

The announcers speak into the microphone, introducing the ProAm singles dance.

This is it.

I faintly hear the applause, the loud cheers from the friend table, because it’s drowned out by my own nerves. But then, a wave of calm. Like whatever happens after this, it doesn’t matter, because I’ve already won.

I squeeze Logan’s hand, moving in close to him. “I can’t believe I get to be here with you,” I say, a repeat of his words, and his gaze meets mine like he feels it too.

“From Florida, Number 110, Julieta Martí and Logan Beck,” the announcer calls out.

And as we walk out to the floor, I feel my grandmother with me for the first time. I feel her presence, a solid weight right beside me, like my very own approval.

We’re out on the floor with seven other couples, each of us spaced out enough to allow room for dancing. Logan gives me one quick smile, that small one that I’ve claimed as mine, and then the music begins.

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