Page 24 of Tension
I lean against the mirrored wall, clipboard back in hand, my pen hovering over a blank line as Greyson begins fiddling with the sound system, his brows furrowed in concentration. Mateo and Yvonne are stretching near the far corner, their quiet chatter punctuated by the occasional laugh. The sound of her voice is grating on my nerves, something akin to nails on a chalkboard.
Kari and Adam stand in the center of the room, their postures straight, their minds focused. They’ve been refining this Viennese Waltz for days, and today is the moment to see if their work has paid off. Kari’s light blonde hair is swept into a tight bun, and her sky-blue practice dress flows gracefully around her ankles. Adam’s black shirt is simple, but it emphasizes his clean lines and lean muscles.
“Ready when you are,” I say, motioning to Greyson. He nods and presses a button, the lush, sweeping strains of a waltz filling the air.
Kari and Adam take their starting positions, their hands meeting with a practiced elegance. The first few notes act as acue, and they step into motion, gliding across the floor with a grace that immediately draws the room’s attention.
Their movements are mesmerizing. Kari’s frame is impeccable, her head tilted just enough to catch the light on her delicate profile. Adam’s hold is steady, his steps confident as he leads her through the sweeping rotations and gentle rises and falls of the waltz. Their synchronicity is almost hypnotic, a seamless interplay of strength and softness.
The music crescendos, and Adam guides Kari into a reverse turn, her skirt flaring in a perfect arc. For a brief moment, it’s as if they’re floating, their feet barely brushing the ground. My breath catches at the sight because this is what dance is supposed to feel like: weightless, timeless, transcendent.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Mateo watching intently. His arms are crossed, but his expression betrays a mixture of admiration and frustration. Yvonne, standing beside him, nudges his arm and whispers something, but his gaze remains fixed on the dancers.
“Beautiful,” Greyson murmurs under his breath, his eyes shining with pride as he watches Kari and Adam move through the more intricate steps of the routine. “They’ve really stepped up.”
I nod, scribbling a note on my clipboard. “Kari’s technique is flawless. She’s carrying the emotion of the dance perfectly.” My eyes flick to Adam. “But he’s all technique. His moves are perfect, but the passion isn’t breaking through.”
As if sensing the critique, Adam suddenly takes a risk, adding a subtle flourish to his movement as he leads Kari into a dramatic pivot. It’s bold, unexpected, and exactly what was missing. Their connection seems to deepen, their energy crackling as the music swells toward its climax.
By the time they reach the final pose with Kari dipped low, one leg extended gracefully as Adam holds her securely, the room issilent and captivated. The last note fades, and for a moment, no one moves. Then Greyson claps, the sound breaking the spell.
“Well done!” he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine approval. “That was exceptional.”
Kari straightens, her cheeks flushed and her breathing quick. Adam releases her with a small smile, his own face damp with exertion. They exchange a glance that speaks of triumph, their hard work finally paying off.
I step forward, my heels clicking softly against the floor. “Much improved,” I say, letting my gaze linger on Adam. “That risk you took with the pivot? That’s what I’ve been waiting to see. More of that and you’ll take this routine to another level.”
Adam nods, his expression serious. “Thank you. We’ll keep working on it.”
“You should,” I stress, my words filled with encouragement. “This is the kind of dancing that gets remembered.”
As Kari and Adam move to the side to catch their breath, I glance at Mateo again. He’s still watching, his brows furrowed as if dissecting every moment of their performance. I make a mental note to address his focus later, but for now, I let the moment live on, the echoes of the Viennese Waltz still resonating in the studio.
MATEO
The studio falls quiet after Yvonne, Kari, and Adam leave, their chatter fading down the hall. I hover near the mirrors, pretending to fix the laces on my shoes. The truth is, I’m waiting for us to be alone. I watch as Greyson retreats into the office, the door clicking shut behind him. Vaeda remains, her attentionfixed on her clipboard as she makes quick notes, her pen moving with purpose.
My heart pounds as I walk toward her. Each step feels like I’m floating, as if the potency of this drug is immediate. She looks up as I approach, her posture stiffening slightly. There’s a flicker of unease in her eyes before she schools her expression into nonchalance.
“Vaeda.” Just saying her name, having it roll off my tongue, feels seductive. “I wanted to talk to you about what you said earlier.”
She arches an eyebrow, her grip tightening on the clipboard. “What about?”
I stop a few feet away, close enough to feel her presence but far enough to keep propriety in check. “You suggested I take another class,” I remind her. “Something outside my comfort zone. Hip-hop?”
“Yes,” she replies, her tone clipped. “You need to work on your rhythm. It’s a good idea.”
“I’ll do it,” I say, stepping closer. Her eyes narrow slightly as she takes a half-step back. “If you come with me.”
Her brows knit together in confusion before she lets out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Mateo, I’m not the one who needs the extra practice.”
“I’m serious,” I insist, my gaze locking onto hers. “This competition in Paris is everything. If I’m going to do this, I want to do it right, and I can’t think of anyone better to push me than you.”
She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line, then her gaze flickers toward the office door as if hoping Greyson will reappear to break the moment, but the room remains silent, just the two of us standing in the charged bubble.
“You’re incessant,” she mutters, though there’s a softness in her voice that wasn’t there before.
“I have to be,” I reply, taking another step closer. The space between us is nearly nonexistent now, and I feel the air shift, heavy with a pulsing need. My blood begins to sing as the drug of her courses through me. “You said it yourself. I need to loosen up. Who better to teach me than someone who knows exactly what it takes?”
