Page 21 of Tension
When they finish, I clap lightly, nodding as they catch their breath. “Good,” I begin, keeping my tone measured. “Your synchronization is strong, and your lines are clean, but there’s something missing.”
Kari tilts her head, her expression questioning. “What do you mean?”
I step forward, gesturing toward the space they had just danced through. “You’re executing the steps, but it feels rehearsed, like you’re going through the motions. The Cha-Cha needs personality and energy. It’s playful and flirtatious. Let’s try a Rumba instead.”
Adam’s brows furrow slightly, but Kari nods, her confidence unwavering. She adjusts her posture, ready for the shift in tone, while Adam glances at the mirrors, adjusting his frame. Greyson queues the music, and the sultry rhythm of a Rumba begins to play its slow, deliberate beat, filling the room.
They glide into the opening steps, Kari’s movements fluid and expressive. Her hips sway naturally with the music, her arms extending in elegant lines. Adam, however, seems more tentative. His steps are careful, almost hesitant, and his frame lacks the presence needed to match Kari’s energy. He looks like he’s thinking too much, analyzing every step instead of feeling it.
I cross my arms, my critical eyes following every detail. The contrast between Adam and Mateo flashes in my mind unbidden. Mateo’s intensity, the way he immerses himself in the music, and the undeniable pull of his movements. Where Mateo commands attention, Adam fades into the background. The comparison makes my cheeks flush, and I quickly refocus on the routine in front of me.
When the music fades, I step forward again. “Your technique is solid,” I start, directing my gaze at both of them. “But Adam, you’re holding back. The Rumba is a conversation, a dance of tension and release. Right now, it feels one-sided. You need to bring more to the performance.”
Adam nods, his expression sheepish. “I’ll work on it.”
“Good,” I reply, glancing briefly at Greyson. He’s leaning against the wall, his lips twitching into a smile as he watches me.
“Thank you,” Kari says, her voice steady. “We’ll keep refining it.”
As they gather their things and leave the floor, Greyson steps forward, his smirk more pronounced. “Not as compelling as Mateo, is he?” he teases, his tone light but pointed.
I roll my eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. “Kari’s technique is better,” I counter, though the words feel hollow even as I say them.
Greyson chuckles, clearly not convinced. “Keep telling yourself that, Vae.”
The studio is dimly lit as Greyson and I finish cleaning up for the night. The hustle of the day’s activities still buzzes faintly in my mind, but the quiet now is a welcome reprieve.
Without having Mateo here in the same room, I can breathe a little easier and see things a little clearer. I wish I could argue with my entire chest about having Adam and Kari representing us in Paris, but I fear Greyson is right. Mateo and Yvonne have that edge, the connection the judges love to see alongside technique.
Now it means endless hours of practice and routines, and endless hours of Mateo. His scent, his presence, hisallure. All of it will be obstacles I’ll have to overcome to ensure we remain professional, in good standing, and come out of this competition in first place.
Gerardo is my rock, the man who picked me back up off my knees when I thought the world was crumbling down around me, and Mateo is like the apple in the Garden of Eden. I must resist.
With Gerardo still in my thoughts, I place the clipboard into my bag and turn to Greyson. “Thanks for staying late. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Greyson raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s on your mind?”
“My husband is throwing me a surprise birthday party next weekend,” I reveal, my tone dry. “Consider this your official invitation.”
Greyson bursts out laughing, his voice echoing in the empty studio. “A surprise party you already know about? Of course. That’s so you, Vae. If ‘I can do it all by myself’ had a picture in the dictionary, it would be yours.”
I shrug, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Sir, that’s a whole phrase. A dictionary only has words.”
“Whatever.” He waves me off as he does up his jacket. “The phrase Dictionary then. Did Gerardo spill the beans on the party because he’s scared you’ll hate it?”
“Gerardo has never been subtle. Besides, when he thinks he’s being sneaky, he leaves a trail a mile wide. He told me because he knows I hate surprises, but he wants a party more for himself than anything else. You know how much he loves a good time. It’ll be an extravagant event, even though I’ve asked for something small and intimate.”
“Well, I’m honored to be invited.” Greyson chuckles, his grin widening. “Should I offer up a naked sushi platter?”
“How about no?” I reply, locking the studio door behind us. “And keep the gifts tasteful please. None of your ridiculous jokes.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he vows, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Thirty-three, huh? Time truly flies.”
“Don’t remind me,” I mutter, stepping into the cool night air. “Just show up and be on time.”
“I’ll be there,” he promises, his tone softening. “Get some rest, Vae. You deserve it.”
As he heads off, I linger by the studio door, the pressure of the upcoming competition pressing down on me. Despite the exhaustion, there’s a small flicker of hope. Everything has been working out, and maybe this year’s birthday won’t be so bad after all.
