Page 36 of Tension
I lift my gaze, meeting hers squarely. “I know,” I respond quietly, understanding passing silently between us. The consequences are all painfully clear. Yet, I find myself stepping closer once more, drawn inexorably back into her orbit, and she doesn’t pull away.
The instructor’s voice echoes again, signaling the end of class, breaking our fragile bubble. Vaeda finally steps back fully, inhaling deeply, visibly collecting herself.
“Great job, everyone!” The instructor’s cheerful voice feels out of place in our heightened reality. “Keep practicing. Remember, dancing is about feeling. Trust yourselves and trust each other.”
Trust.
The word hangs heavily between us as we exit the studio and into the cool afternoon air. Vaeda glances at me from beside me, vulnerability flickering briefly in her eyes before she covers it again with practiced composure.
“That was... intense,” she murmurs softly.
I nod, the admission echoing in my mind. “Yes, it was.”
We walk in silence for a moment, the sun creating gentle halos around us despite the cold winter day. The intensity of the experience we shared refuses to fade, and it’s taking everything in me not to haul her down a darkened alley and do what I’ve been dreaming of for months.
“Mateo,” she says finally, her voice steadying, “this can’t—”
“I know,” I interrupt gently, even though it pains me. “But right now, let’s just… not think about that.”
She hesitates, then nods slowly, the smallest smile tugging at her lips. For now, today, we can pretend the rest doesn’t exist. Even if we both know it definitely does.
FOURTEEN
Mateo
“Are you hungry?” Vaeda breaks the silence as she points across the street at the diner. It’s a popular place for the dancers. Yvonne has praised their sandwiches many times.
“I can eat.” I would do just about anything to stay with her a bit longer.
Vaeda walks alongside me, quietly twisting a lock of her hair around a slender finger as we cross the street to the small restaurant. The diner sign flickers above the doorway, emanating an inviting glow.
Inside is quiet, caught in the lull between the lunch and dinner rushes. The waitress greets us warmly, guiding us toward a secluded booth tucked into the back corner. It feels like a private sanctuary, removed from the rest of the world, exactly the kind of intimacy that makes my pulse quicken.
Vaeda slides gracefully onto the vinyl bench across from me, and I settle opposite her, our knees barely brushing beneath the table. A rush of heat floods me at even that minimal contact, butneither of us pulls away. Instead, our eyes meet briefly, a silent acknowledgment of the energy we both feel.
The waitress sets down two menus and a couple of water glasses, her friendly chatter a gentle backdrop to our charged silence. When she’s gone, Vaeda’s gaze meets mine again, eyes bright but cautious.
“You danced well,” she says softly, interrupting my thoughts.
“I have a good teacher,” I respond, smiling slightly.
Her lips curve into a small smile, her eyes softening as she sips from her water glass. “You don’t need much teaching. It’s natural for you.”
“Feels different with you,” I confess quietly, holding her gaze. The words slip out before I can stop them, honest and vulnerable.
She hesitates, her eyes flickering with uncertainty before she replies carefully, “Different isn’t always good, Mateo.”
“It isn’t always bad either,” I counter gently.
Her cheeks flush faintly, and she glances away, fingers tracing idle patterns on the tabletop. Silence settles between us again, comfortable yet charged, each heartbeat echoing the tension that continues to build relentlessly.
The bell over the diner door jingles softly, interrupting the quiet moment, and my eyes flick instinctively toward the sound. My heart sinks slightly when I see Yvonne stepping inside, her eyes scanning the diner briefly before quickly finding us tucked in our quiet corner.
Her expression shifts immediately, a mixture of surprise and something darker. Jealousy. It hits me abruptly, realization sinking in heavily. I hadn’t noticed it before, but the way her eyes linger, narrowing at Vaeda before settling on me, makes her feelings unmistakably clear.
Yvonne strides over, a forced smile on her face. “Hey,” she greets, her tone deceptively cheerful. “I wasn’t expecting to see you two here.”
“We were just grabbing a quick bite,” I reply cautiously, glancing at Vaeda, whose expression is now guarded, her body language tense. “I came by the studio today to grab my shoes. I left them there after the last class.”
