Page 17 of Desire

Elise’s eyes go wide, and she shuffles backward into the corner of the room. She’s shaking.

“I’m sorry,” her voice cracks, and I feel awful.

She’s absolutely terrified of me.

I walk over to the other side of the room, as far away from her as possible, turning the music off as I go. Then breathing deeply several times, I get my anger under control. The vision of her fear quickly dispels it. No woman should look like that when I shout at them. This is a show, not life or death. What am I doing?

“I’m sorry,” Elise repeats. I can still hear the quiver of fear in her voice. “I’ll go.”

She starts picking up her belongings, and I race across the room to stop her. But when I grab her hand, she screams loudly. Her squeal is so deafening that a few seconds later Leah, the producer who works in the same building, comes running in with Angelique and her wife.

“What’s going on?” Leah sees me holding Elise’s hand and immediately moves in between us. “Leo, get out.”

“W-What have I done?” I stumble over my words, not entirely sure what’s happening.

“Get out,” Leah repeats, this time with more force.

Angelique and her wife place their hands on my shoulders and guide me from the room. I feel like I’m in some sort of daze.

“What’s happening?” my professional dance partner questions.

“I don’t know. I lost my temper because she messed up, and I nearly dropped her. You know how I get sometimes when I’m worried about harming my partner.”

“Asshole as I call it. Yeah.” Angelique rolls her eyes.

She knows what it’s like to be on the end of a tongue lashing from me when I’ve nearly accidentally hurt her in the past because she’s made a mistake.

“She was so scared of me.”

My back falls against the wall behind me. I feel lost. That is not a side of Elise I’ve ever seen before. She’s always been confident and happy, but it’s like Hollywood has sucked all the life out of her. I’ve caught glimpses of joy since we’ve been reintroduced, but she keeps it hidden away most of the time as though she’s scared of something.

Natalie’s words at the restaurant come back to me. She wasn’t going to tell me anything about Elise’s divorce. It wasn’t her secret to tell, but I have a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that it’s something bad. If I’m going to get anywhere with Elise, either romantically or on the show, I need to discover what happened to her.

Eventually, she emerges from the room with her bag on her shoulder. I can tell she’s been crying. Leah is at her side.

“I think we’ll call it a day for your training, Leo,” Leah informs me, but I stare straight past her to Elise.

“I’ll take her home. She’s in no fit state to drive,” I insist.

Leah opens her mouth to interrupt and no doubt disagree, but I fold my arms across my chest, showing I’ll not back down on this point.

“Is that all right, Elise?” Leah asks, and I wish Elise would look at me herself, but she’s doing everything possible to avoid eye contact with me now.

Her head is directly pointed at the floor when she mumbles, “Yes” to Leah’s question.

“Ok, call me when you’re home.”

“I will do,” Elise mutters and starts down the corridor toward the exit of the building at a quick pace.

I run into the dance studio and grab my phone and car keys before heading back out. By the time I get outside, Elise is standing next to my car at the passenger door side, looking dejected. Her head is still bowed low, and her shoulders slumped. She’s like a broken doll. My chest hurts watching her this way. I remember when she was a free spirit.

There was this one time when we’d gone to a park near where we both lived. It was a hot day, and we both jumped into a small lake fully clothed just to cool off. We were eventually told off by a local patrolman and asked to leave the park, but it was Elise who’d been the first to jump in. She encouraged me. I remember her teasing me and calling me a wimp when I initially refused.

The woman I’m seeing in front of me now would never do that. She’d rather run in the opposite direction than do anything so daring and devil-may-care.

I click the key to open the car, and having placed her bag on the backseat, she climbs into the front, and fastens her seat belt in silence. I slide into the driver’s side of the rental car and pull away from the parking spot. We drive in silence for a few miles. I don’t need to ask directions. I dropped her home a couple days last week when her legs were too tired from the constant training, so I know where I’m going.

“What happened with your husband?” I finally break the tense atmosphere in the car.

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