Page 45 of Watch Me

He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Whether you’re crowned champion of the ballroom or of Alejandro’s heart, I’m proud no matter what.”

Iwait in the darkened corner of the ballroom’s dance floor, drawing in a deep breath, smoothing my hair, straightening my sleeve, shifting my weight. And I scan the crowd—again.

No sign of Alejandro.

“You must not fidget,” Kristoff says.

If I wasn’t so nervous, I would laugh. Why not just tell me to stop breathing? “I know. Sorry."

“You are nervous?” my big, blond partner whispers in my ear from behind. “Do you fear losing?”

The competition? Honestly, not as much as I once did. Not even as much as I thought I would. We’ll lose, of course. During my largely sleepless night, I came to accept that. Kristoff has been living his life, and he’s engaged in his kink of choice in a responsible environment. It isn’t his fault someone has it out for us and circumvented Sneak Peek’s rules. But Alejandro? I absolutely fear losing him. In fact, I suspect I already have.

I delivered the tickets to Sneak Peak in person this morning. Del greeted me at the door. Actually, greeted is a strong word. He glowered, and he was considerably cooler than our last meeting. When he said he’d give the tickets to Alejandro, I wrote a note asking if he would visit me before the show so we could talk. Del merely said he'd pass it on with a terse nod, then shut the door in my face.

Clearly, I’ve hurt Alejandro enough to piss off his bestie.

And Alejandro didn't come before the competition. Another scan of the ballroom... I see my father, who waves. I smile back, but I still don’t see Alejandro’s dark hair, swagger, or sin-laced smile.

Did I push him away one too many times? The painful thought tightens my stomach into impossible knots. Throwing up doesn’t feel out of the question.

“Shanna, you are nervous about the routine?” Kristoff asks.

No. He and I are beyond ready. We know these dances. We've perfected our chemistry and rhythm on the floor. The blackmailer’s footage will prevent us from winning, but we'll give our best showing. We'll demonstrate that we deserve to be champions. At this point I can’t ask for more.

I just wish Alejandro was here to see what might be one of my final competitions.

“Or do you regret that you were unable to replace me with a new partner?” he adds.

Scowling at his bitter tone, I glance over my shoulder. Kristoff's mouth is pinched, his eyes tight, his shoulders stiff. He looks nervous. Petrified, actually. Why? He’s never wound up before a competition. Maybe he’s rattled about the video potentially circulating the judges’ table? After all, this threat affects his reputation and career most.

As he continues to watch me with narrow, burning eyes, and I replay his question in my head, I finally understand.

“I’m not replacing you,” I say. I reach for his hand and give it a friendly squeeze. “I never auditioned anyone else. You were right about the partner swapping; it was stupid.”

He shoots me a suspicious stare. “Why the change in attitude?”

“I used to bury my guilt about dropping someone for the sake of winning. But I get now that it was disloyal, unkind, and even counterproductive.” With a little help from Alejandro and Del.

“You do not seek to replace me? Truly?”

I smile. “You’re stuck with me.”

Kristoff levels his mega-watt smile my way. “For days now, I cannot stop from worrying you intend to replace me.” He squeezes my hand. “Thank you. I am happy.”

“We win or lose together, okay? Besides, maybe we haven't won because we forgot that dancing isn’t all serious. Maybe...we just need to have fun tonight and see what happens.”

Kristoff hesitates, then teases, “Who are you and what have you done with my partner?”

Despite my nerves and my worries about losing Alejandro, I have to laugh. If nothing else, I’ve cemented one important relationship tonight. And damn if it doesn’t feel good.

“If we were alone, I’d slug you for that,” I say.

“There is the Shanna I know and adore.” Kristoff winks.

Just then, the music ends, and the announcer reminds the crowd of the competitors’ names and number. I draw in a relaxing breath. In. Out. We’re next.

“Before we go on, I must tell you something,” Kristoff says.

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