Page 15

Chapter One

I used to think that when I finally went to college, I would be free of my father. He isn’t a bad father, per se, but he’s strict. Thankfully, my mother is a match for his stubbornness.

I grew up wanting to do things that my father never thought were masculine enough. While my older brother wanted to tinker with cars and take over the family business, I wanted to watch ballet at the nearby theater or cook meals with my mom. But those were “feminine” things that I shouldn’t want to do.

I begged for years to have the opportunity to join ballet. After a while, Dad finally snapped and told me that if I brought it up again, he’d ground me for life.

I’m now positive he’d never have actually grounded me for life, but as a child, I was terrified. Mom got pissed and they fought. Oh, did they fight. What they finally settled on was that I could dance ballroom because that way I could flaunt around with a girl on my arm.

I didn’t care. It fed my obsession for dancing and satisfied me.

I took class after class all through middle and high school and wanted to focus on ballroom when I went to college, but my father would rather let me join a rock band than dance, mostly because rock bands have a lot of female fans. Thankfully, I finally have the chance now that I’m in my final year of college because I needed one more elective, and my advisor did what he could to make the ballroom class fit for it.

What my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Though if he saw the instructor of this ballroom class, there’s no fucking way he’d have let me within a hundred feet of it.

The professor stands at the front of the room with a smile on his face, black hair styled back. His shirt is so tight that it leaves very little to the imagination, but what catches me more than anything is that smile. I’ve managed to date here and there some, but never has anyone snagged my attention like this man has.

He’s up there all, “Hi, everyone, it’s nice to meet you!”

And I’m over here trying not to fantasize about a moonlit dinner with him.

Fuck me.

“You?”

I realize that I’m so far into my fantasy that I have no idea what he said.

“Yes?” I timidly ask.

“It’s your turn.”

I look around at the other members of the class, realizing that I should have been paying better attention.

His smile falls a little, making me realize that even his confused look is attractive. I am prepared to disappoint him if that means I can see yet another expression. “School’s barely in session and you’ve already checked out?” he jokes.

“I’m sorry…”

“Name, year, major. Go!”

“Hunter, I’m a senior, and I’m majoring in business.”

Everyone gives me a strange look. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m the only senior in a freshman level class or because my major has nothing to do with dancing.

“That’s interesting! Are you wanting to open a dance studio?” he asks.

“No… I’m going to help with the family business. I just enjoy dancing and took ballroom classes throughout middle and high school. I really wanted to take one in college but never got the chance until now. I needed one extra credit and was thrilled to fill it with a ballroom class.”

The man of my dreams nods, and I swear I hear love birds singing praise.

He moves on to the next student, who gives her name and what her major is. Almost everyone has a major that relates to dance in some way besides me, making me worry I’m going to be way in over my head.

When he’s done with introductions, he claps his hands in front of himself and smiles. “So this is not a fundamentals class. We use this as a workshop, as a class to see where your skills are and to build on them through experience. No one learns better than by experience. I’m not going to bark orders from the front of the room. Instead, I want to see what you guys can do. It looks like everyone already has the correct attire on, so we have step one down. Now, I already have you partnered up. With your partner, you are to choreograph a piece that is under two minutes for the fall showcase. It has to be rhythm, but everything else is up to you and your partner to decide.”

The professor then begins to read off the pairings. I don’t know anyone’s name since the introductions went right through me, so when he puts me with a Kaiya, I stand there having no idea who that is.

“Alright, find your partner.”

Thankfully, Kaiya was paying attention because a petite woman walks up to me and smiles. “Hi.”

I smile back at her. “Hi, I’m Hunter, but you already knew that.”

She nods. “Yeah… that’s okay.”

“Professor?” a guy asks, and my attention is instantly on him. Anything being said to the professor draws my focus to him.

“Just call me Lito,” he says.

“Are… you with me?” Kaiya asks, snapping my attention back to her.

“Yes, sorry,” I say as I look at her.

“Do you have a preference about the type of dance you’d like to do?”

“No, I’m pretty comfortable with most of them. Especially rhythm since that was my focus.”

“How about rumba, then?”

I nod. “Yeah, I love rumba.”

She smiles at me. “Perfect.”

Lito claps his hands. “I’m going to give you two more minutes to decide which style. You can change your mind later, but I want you to have an idea. As soon as you know your style, I want you and your partner in dance position,” he says as he walks around the room.

I look at the others as they start to get into position before I hold a hand out to Kaiya. She gives me her right hand and we step into position. I place my free hand on her shoulder blade and she puts hers on my arm. I’m used to dancing with whatever woman doesn’t have a partner at the ballroom company I danced at, so when she steps into perfect position, chest up, head tilted, I’m kind of surprised. I’m not sure why; clearly, she knows ballroom and isn’t some random middle-aged woman curious about dancing.

Lito is almost instantly on us before I can even finish getting into position. I quickly straighten my back and stand at the ready as his eyes run over us. It makes me a bit nervous. Does he like what he sees? Or has he realized that I wasn’t taught at some fancy company like the rest of them?

He takes Kaiya’s chin and pushes it up a smidge, then turns to me.

Lito sets his hand on my chest, and I swear my breath hitches. I’m trying not to think about how nervous I am that he’s looking right at me.

“Bring your chest up, not your shoulders. Relax your shoulders.”

Now I’m trying to figure out how to get my shoulders to do anything I’m telling them to do. My entire body feels tense with him looking right at me, and I’m pretty sure the last thing I’m going to figure out how to do is relax my shoulders, but I sure give it all my effort.

“There, much better,” he says as he gives me a smile that almost melts me. It’s liable to happen if he doesn’t remove his hand and that smile soon.

Sadly, he heads off to the next group.

“Do not break position until I say you can,” he says.

Kaiya is one hundred percent professional as she stands there, but I’m itching to look around. I feel like I can learn better by watching him point out what we should be doing, but I keep my eyes focused where they should be.

“Good! You all look fantastic!” Lito tells the class. “Now, I want you to just dance. We’re not worrying about choreography or anything. Just you and your partner in your chosen style. Get comfortable. Have some fun! And keep those stances perfect.”

“He’s… not going to show us a routine?” I ask nervously.

Kaiya glances over at me. “No, just lead.”

It’s awkward dancing with someone I’m not used to, and I’m scared I’m going to fumble, so I start off with a simple box. In rumba, each step goes slow, quick, quick, before repeating itself. So I step into her with a slow step and she follows suit. After doing two box steps, which are the simplest and most beginner steps I can think of, I realize that I need to do something else.

I step back and give her an underarm turn, which she does with such flourish and pizzazz that I find myself watching her instead of over her. I try a few more intricate moves, and just as I’m stepping forward she slides sideways, and I end up scuffing her shoe.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she says.

Until I do it again.

Kaiya’s so much shorter than the people I’m used to dancing with and she takes tiny steps. And now I’m feeling flustered, so I do a box again because I’m confident with a box step. Who can screw that up?

“You need to direct me better,” she says. “I have no idea where you’re going half the time.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

She nods. “It’s fine.”

When Lito finally calls an end to the class, I’m thrilled to escape. Kaiya quickly catches up with her friends that are in the class as I put my shoes away and see that my father has called. It fills me with dread to call him back, but I know better than to postpone it.

“Have a wonderful day,” Lito calls to the class with a warm smile on his face.

The walls of the room are covered in mirrors, so as he stands at the front of the classroom, I’m given every angle of him, which really should make my day better.

Fuck.

I hurry out of the classroom as I call my father.

“This is Garrith.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“What is this that I hear about you taking a ballroom class at college?”

“It’s just one and for fun, that’s it,” I say. Who the hell told him?

“You don’t need others finding out you’re dancing. Please, just drop the class. Can you imagine what your classmates would say or think of you if they found out you’re doing that shit? And you’re not even any good at it. You’ve never won a single competition. If you want exercise, go play flag football with your brother on Sundays.”

Parker is getting his master’s here, and of course, he does everything Dad wants him to. He’s top of his class, a resident advisor, and plays every sport that he can get into. He also sleeps with any girl who looks his way, which I’m sure my father wishes I would also do. “Dad, please, it’s just one class.”

He grumbles something under his breath. “You better be getting good grades in your other classes.”

“Seeing as today is the first day of classes, I’m doing fantastic. You could even say I’m the best in the class if you want.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

I sigh. “I’m not.”

“I’m not paying for that class,” he assures me.

“You don’t need to pay for any of them.”

“At least find yourself a girl to bring to Sunday’s lunch,” he says.

Even though I told my father I was gay when I was sixteen, he’s lived the past five years pretending like we’d never had that talk, and I’ve just let him. Sometimes, never doing anything good enough gets so depressing that I want to do one thing right.

“Don’t worry, there are plenty of women to choose from,” I tell him.

While that’s not a lie, I would prefer to choose the instructor.