Page 9 of The Way We Dance

Giselle

“Your hips are not facing forward, your fists are clenched, and your biceps are too tight."

Ok that last one may not be the case. He may have just been crazy cut and strong. But I called him out anyway because it was all I could look at. The sleeves were cut off of his t-shirt and the tattoos that wrapped around his arms were intimidating.

He seemed nice enough, but I was still on edge from being attacked and didn't know how else to deal with it other than distance and professionalism with everyone I met. I may have been coming off a tad rude, though.

Unfortunately, as awful as I sounded, I wasn't wrong. Ty's poise was wild and probably untamable.

He was not a man used to worrying about posture and grace. I was a football novice but I knew enough to know that those guys were amazing athletes. Most of them were naturally balanced and strong.

Not Ty.

He had probably got by through sheer talent for so long, but there came a time in everyone's life when that was no longer enough. Restructuring our body's needs was important as we got older.

That was where I came in and exactly why his coach asked me to do this for him.

I had been hesitant at first. Being attacked inside my own studio didn't make me want to open it up to a stranger after hours. But then again, I was the one that set the hours.

When Mr. Peyton approached me, my first instinct was to tell him no. Absolutely no.

But then he explained how special Ty Black was. His talent was endless and he just needed something outside of the box to get him out of his stagnant regimen. It clicked that not only could I help him, but I could have him come in on the two nights I worked late.

Selfishly, I knew that meant I wouldn't be alone at Brisé late, hoping it meant I wouldn't be scared either. Even if he was a stranger, I was willing to bet on a known figure in Atlanta not being a maniac.

Yet, one look at Ty Black and I screamed, losing all self-control for a moment. He looked oddly familiar but he was a pro athlete so that may have been where that stemmed from. He was huge, tattoos all over, and his backward hat added to his formidable presence. Not to mention I had no idea he was there and his presence alone scared me to death.

I tried to quickly recover and probably over compensated by being a tad uptight. There was just no other way to move forward than to snap into business mode and conduct the evaluation I promised Mr. Peyton.

Ty needed to learn to control his form and by doing so, he would be more effective using his natural talents on the field. By the look on his face, he wasn't informed about why he was here or what we would be doing. Still, I pushed through because this was my job and the one thing I was damn good at.

Social skills be damned.

"Stand straight and pull your feet together, both facing the mirror," I directed.

Ty was still looking at me like I had lost my damn mind, but he did as I instructed. He looked at himself in the mirror before looking back at me. "How the fuck are my biceps too tight?" he blurted.

My eyes widened at his growl and I stepped back, slightly worried he was indeed a maniac.

"Mr. Black, calm down," I suggested, before easing back into the space I was originally in. "I could be wrong, it just looks like they are constantly flexed and that is tiresome on a body."

"They're not flexed at all," he bit back.

I knew that was most likely the case but did I say the words out loud anyway? Sure I did. I was awkward and socially inept.

"My apologies," I said, hoping he let it go.

"That is the second time in 10 minutes you've had to apologize to me," he snarled. "You sure you know what you’re doing?"

I cleared my throat and tried to remain poised, not wanting to slip in new company. "We are getting to know one another, Mr. Black. I am apologizing because I do not want to insult you. However, if I was assured that you would not be insulted, I would not be apologizing as I have not technically done anything worth apologizing for."

He broke his stance and turned toward me with a look of disbelief across his face. His hands were on his hips and his biceps were actually flexing, "Are you fucking serious? What is your deal?"

Anger coursed through me because while I may not have been his cup of tea, nothing was wrong with me. "Should I apologize for who I am, now?"

"Is it possible for you to loosen up a bit?"

"No, Mr. Black, it is not possible. I am a professional. I make a living off my stature. I spend all day teaching grace and control. I was brought up to exude excellence."

---