Page 50 of Tension
Isn’t it?
TWENTY
Mateo
It’s been two days since I saw Vaeda at Fusion Core and two days of ignoring her texts.
Two days since I walked in with Yvonne, feeling lighter than I had in weeks, until my eyes found hers. Until that sharp ache pierced the air between us like static before a storm. I didn’t think I’d make it through the session. My whole body felt like it was vibrating with the pull to speak to her, to touch her, to beg, but I didn’t. I danced. I laughed with Yvonne. I kept myself moving because stillness, for me, always invites the darkness.
And thank God for Yvonne.
She’s been my anchor and shield. Not in the same way Vaeda was. No, not that raw, electric tether, but steady in her own right. She shows up. She makes me laugh. She doesn’t ask for more than I can give, and after everything that happened at the club, and then what almost happened after... It’s nice to have a connection that feels safe.
Tonight, we’re all meeting up: me, Yvonne, Adam, and Kari. It’s been weeks since the four of us had a moment outside ofclass. After Greyson split us into two different pairs to prepare for Paris, our rehearsals became staggered and far between. That closeness and camaraderie slipped through the cracks, but tonight, we’re taking it back. Just a lounge. Good music. Maybe some fries to split. Nothing crazy.
Nothing I can’t handle.
I finish buttoning the collar of my black shirt and check the clock. I’m supposed to meet Yvonne downstairs in five minutes. I run my fingers through my hair and grab my coat, sliding my phone into my back pocket as I step into the hallway.
By the time I get to the lobby, she’s already waiting. Yvonne looks effortlessly cool in a cropped leather jacket, her eyes lighting up when she spots me.
“There he is,” she says, looping her arm through mine. “I was starting to think you’d stood me up.”
“Never.” I flash her a small smile. “I need your presence to keep me from brooding into a drink menu.”
She laughs as we walk out toward the cab, the city wind brushing between us like a memory I can’t quite shake.
“You doing okay?” she asks as we settle into the back seat. “You’ve been quiet since Tuesday.”
I glance out the window, watching the lights smear across the glass like streaks of gold and red. “I’m trying. That counts for something, right?”
“Yeah.” She leans her head back. “It does.”
The lounge is buzzing when we arrive. Dim lighting, amber-toned booths, and the low thrum of a live band playing something jazzy in the corner adds ambiance to the place. It’s not packed, but it’s full enough to make it feel alive.
Adam and Kari are already at a table near the back. They wave us over, Kari lifting a half-empty mojito in greeting. Her cheeks are already flushed with laughter. Adam claps me on the back as I slide into the booth beside him.
“It’s about time,” he exclaims. “We were starting to think you two were off rehearsing some secret Rumba.”
Yvonne grins, nudging me. “Please. Mateo’s been rehearsing how to survive another stare-down from Vaeda.”
My stomach twists, but I manage to laugh. “I think I’ve mastered the technique: avoid eye contact, count backward from ten, and pretend I’m not dying inside.”
They all laugh, and for a moment, it feels good. Easy. Like I haven’t been unraveling piece by piece since the night I asked Vaeda when she was leaving her husband and she revealed the truth.
As we fall into conversation, reminiscing about our first awkward group rehearsal, trading horror stories from past competitions, and making fun of Greyson’s obsession with the Paso Doble flair, I realize something. This is what I needed. Not a distraction. Not an escape. I needed connection and belonging. People who see me for who I am now, not just who I used to be.
The rim of my water glass sweats between my fingers as I twirl it in slow, anxious circles. The chatter at our booth has grown louder, looser, and funnier, like the kind of night that could easily slip into something messier if we aren’t careful.
“I think it’s time,” Adam announces as he waves over a server, a crooked grin stretching across his face. “We’ve earned it. A round of tequila shots for the table.”
My stomach drops as I try to keep the reaction off my face, but the moment the words leave his mouth, my body stiffens. Yvonne must feel it, because she shifts beside me, brushing her leg gently against mine under the table.
The server nods and disappears into the crowd, leaving me sitting in silence, heart pounding against my ribs like it’s trapped. Adam’s laughing with Kari, tossing an arm around her shoulder as they argue over who can handle tequila better. It’s a perfectly normal night for them. This is what twenty-somethings do. Celebrate, drink, and let go, but for me, it’s a cliff’s edge.
I press my palms flat to my thighs, suddenly aware of how cold the room feels despite the crowd and the low warmth of the candles flickering between us.
Yvonne leans toward me, her voice low enough that only I can hear it. “Don’t worry, I got this. I’m not drinking,” she breathes into my ear. Then she straightens and says, “Training’s been hell, and I can’t risk the dehydration.” She groans loud enough for the table to hear. I turn to her sharply, my breath catching, and she meets my eyes before shrugging lightly.
