Page 59 of If Ever

13

Los Angeles

"If I'd known meeting a guy would put you in such a great mood that you'd work this hard, I would have been parading men through here from week one," Dominic says after we're safe for another week.

I toss an empty water bottle at him. "You're not even close to funny, and I'm too happy to fight with you."

"Good, because we have a lot more work to do."

And since Tom's busy on the other side of the country, I dive into rehearsals with a new passion. It's ten o'clock before I get home, and I could really use hearing Tom's voice. He texted an hour ago, so maybe he's still up.

It's an unseasonably balmy night, so I sit on my tiny deck overlooking the parking lot of my apartment when Tom's accented voice answers. "Hey, love."

My heart flips every time he says that. I know it's just a common English phrase, but I like to pretend it means more. "Am I calling too late?"

"Not at all. A bunch of us went out after the show for a friend's birthday. I'm walking home now."

"Hank was voted off tonight."

"I'm sorry. He's a terrific guy, but he never could dance."

Which is absolutely true, but it didn't matter. He was always nice. "I'm going to miss him. He introduced me to bourbon."

"You drink bourbon?" He asks, surprised.

"Only with Hank," I laugh, feeling melancholy. The stars are out and the moon illuminates the puffy clouds. Whenever someone leaves in my life, it's always painful. "So, how was your show tonight?"

"A quiet audience, so we had to work harder to get a reaction out of them."

"I suppose a Tuesday isn't a wild night for theatre."

“Not necessarily. After the show a couple of housewives were feeling up my backside when I posed for a picture with them,” he says.

“Oh my God. That’s rude.” And yet I would have liked to the see the expression on his face when it happened.

“One of the hazards of my job.” He laughs. “With Hank going home, you realize that means it's at least another week before you come to New York, and at the rate you're going, it'll be longer."

"I wish the show would be over already." We're both frustrated with not being able to see each other, and it's worse because now I actually love it.

I throw myself back into rehearsals, trying to keep my constant thoughts of Tom at bay, which works some of the time. The rest of the time we're on the phone whispering during my brief rehearsal breaks, texting when our schedules don't align, and FaceTiming at the end our days. It's obsessive, childish, thrilling, and I love every second of it.

Tom's blind confidence in me and constant encouragement drives me to work harder on my dances. He's the most talented person I've ever met, and I'm more concerned with embarrassing myself in front of him than the national viewing audience.

On performance night the following week, I've never felt more prepared or worried about pulling off a great performance. I feel Tom's presence across the miles as I take my place in the ballroom wearing my glitzy silver cha cha dress. The number goes well, as does our Argentine tango, yet the judges’ comments are mixed with Stephen Harris unhappy with my musicality.

Tuesday night we're back under the glaring elimination spotlights. I worked harder this past week than ever before. Please let us be safe, please let us be safe.

Dominic gives my arm a supportive squeeze. "We're at the point of the competition where anything can happen. Even good teams go home," he whispers in my ear as the daunting music tortures us. I hold my breath.

Marcus MacIntyre drags out the announcement as long as possible. "And the team returning next week is...Chelsea and Dominic!"

I release my breath and hug Dominic. Each week is getting tougher to get through.

Marcus eventually sends Tedrick and Daria home.

"Congratulations on making it this far," Marcus says after they say their goodbyes. "And now for a little surprise... We'll be scrambling the teams and you'll be switching partners for next week."

I turn to Dominic. "But I don't want to dance with anyone else."

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