Page 10 of If Ever

4

Los Angeles

Dominic and I are in the first group to learn our fate. We're with two other couples, Hank with his partner Sonya, and Tedrick, the rapper with Daria, a beautiful Brazilian dancer.

"Try to smile and look pleasant," Dominic says through his teeth.

"What? Compared to my resting bitch face?" I give him a sardonic smile.

He laughs. "This process is going to feel like forever, but the elimination music only lasts about 15 seconds."

Hank winks at me from his spot. I smile in return. Marcus MacIntyre goes through the clips of all our dances and then plays the elimination music that sounds suspiciously like the Jeopardy theme song.

He announces, "Tedrick and Daria are safe."

So it's either Hank or I in the bottom three. Can I beat out a friendly 73-year-old geezer? I doubt he cares either way about staying on the show, but I definitely wouldn't want to be here without him.

"Hank and Sonya are safe!" Marcus calls. "Which leaves Chelsea and Dominic in the bottom three."

I nod, keeping my fake pleasant smile in place, and two seconds later we're ushered off as the show rolls on.

The encore dance is performed by early standout, Brady, a handsome chef with his own cooking show and line of cookware. The other teams all go through the eliminations until it's narrowed down to Dominic and me; Molly Gibson, a big-breasted girl famous for being rejected on a reality dating show; and the news guy.

The audience is packed and it feels like all eyes are lasered on me, judging me, deciding if I'm good enough and popular enough. I tap down my longing to be liked and accepted. This is fine. I don't want to be here with a partner who can't stand me, and I loathe the idea of being publicly humiliated the first week.

The elimination music plays.

"The next team to be safe is," Marcus pauses for effect. "Molly & Pavel."

Dominic's breath goes out of him. His arm is around my waist in an awkward gesture of camaraderie.

"Have you ever gone out in the first week?" I ask under my breath as we wait under the burning spotlight.

"Never," he mutters.

"Sorry."

"And sadly the couple we must say goodbye to tonight is..."

The blasted music plays again, going on for an eternity before Marcus finally says, "Grant and Petra."

***

The shock of the results show still hasn't worn off, but here I am still on the show and trying to learn the tango, which I'm especially bad at, while the cameras wait for me to do something embarrassing.

"Again," Dominic barks, his patience thinning. This brings me an evil bit of joy after having heard him with Pavel. "This time hold your frame and take each step with snap precision."

My brain is overloaded and my body quit paying attention ten minutes ago. I give the sequence one more attempt, arching my back, snapping my arms in position, and stomping each step, which makes pain radiate through the broken blisters on my aching feet. I bite back the urge to wince.

"No, no, no! It has to be sharper, more defined. Like this." He displays the tight sequence with flair and an air of superiority, and he looks perfect doing it. "You're holding back. What's going on?"

"Nothing," I say tightly, trying to rein in my feelings of embarrassment and disappointment that this experience isn’t what I hoped it would be.

His eyes focus in on me as if he knows I'm lying. "If this is going to work, you have to trust me and believe that we can do this."

"You're right. We need to believe in each other." I huff and cross my arms because anger is easier than opening up.

"Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

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