Page 13 of Slow Burn

The entire cast spent the following afternoon at Pineapple Studios learning the choreography for the group dances.

Knowing how time was likely to run away with us, Gabriele and I had agreed to rehearse our duets again tonight at James Jive.

I was shocked he’d agreed to leave the confines of London, to be honest, but I didn’t question it for fear that he would change his mind – I needed all the time I could get to learn the steps, which were far more complicated than anything I’d been used to lately.

Gabriele had stayed late to work with Carlos on a dance I wasn’t involved in, and I had some admin to do at the studio, so I gave him all the details and told him to follow on.

He looked distinctly irritated as he swung through the door just after 7pm, all swagger and brooding good looks.

‘That train is much too slow,’ he said.

‘Hmmm, can be,’ I said, refusing to engage. In the absence of any more central rehearsal space, he would just have to get used to it.

‘I’ll be with you in a second,’ I said, keeping it casual, tapping away on the keyboard as though he was disturbing me, when actually I was only pretending to work.

‘So,’ I said. ‘Shall we pick up where we left off with the Argentine tango?’

‘Sure,’ said Gabriele, strutting onto the dance floor as though it was he and not my parents who owned the place.

I made sure the front door to the building was locked and followed him, surreptitiously watching him in the mirror.

He’d already put his bag down in the corner, pulled out his water bottle and was drinking from it, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as liquid flowed down his throat.

I used my phone to select an Argentine tango track, letting the hauntingly high notes of the violin ring out across the studio.

My finger hovered over the button for the glitter ball.

I didn’t think Gabriele would appreciate me switching it on – he didn’t seem in a particularly joyful mood (was he ever?) – and my head was already all over the place with rotas and changing session times and wondering how the hell I was going to do all of this without upsetting my family.

Gabriele walked into the centre of the room and I joined him there, standing opposite, definitely not looking at the biceps bulging out from the arms of his T-shirt. And absolutely not thinking about what it would be like to run my hands over them, to see if they were as rock-hard as they looked.

I lifted my head, making eye contact, my heart hammering in my ears so loudly that I could barely hear the music, although thankfully I could still feel it in my body.

First things first, we needed to find the character of the dance – this was where I could shine.

I might not have been dancing in Gabriele’s league for many years, but I had been creating routines all day every day, and since we could only use limited steps with our clients at the studio, I had a ton of ideas built up in my mind already.

I restarted the track so that we could listen again.

‘What do we think the story is?’ I asked Gabriele.

He paced around the studio a little, as though deep in thought. ‘It’s about lust,’ he said.

I swallowed hard. He was right, of course, the music lent itself to it, but was this really a good idea, for us in particular?

‘Lust between two people who cannot be together because of their external circumstances,’ he added.

I nodded along, as though I was perfectly fine with all of this. Which I was, from a professional point of view – unrequited lust worked perfectly for a really sharp Argentine tango.

‘Why don’t we begin apart, maybe mirroring each other,’ I said. ‘One behind the other.’

Gabriele nodded, getting into the position I’d suggested. ‘For two or three beats.’

I mapped out some steps. ‘Something like this?’

‘Yes,’ he said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. ‘And then I will come to you, place my hand on the back of your neck, spin you around and lower you to the ground.’

‘Let’s try,’ I said. I had to be confident that I could do whatever he asked of me; that I could match him step for step.

As I faced the mirror, he walked around me.

I didn’t have time to acknowledge the spark that ran through my body as he placed his firm hand on the back of my neck and spun me around, because before I knew it I was bent backwards, inches from the floor, and then almost as quickly flicked up again to standing, as though I was as light as air.

I remembered the story – lust that must be avoided at all costs.

My instinct was to move away from him, then, as though I was trying not to give in to the feelings coursing through my body, and I took a few walking steps forward, like I was trying to brush him off.

His instinct was clearly to follow me, as suddenly he was behind me, his breath warm on the back of my neck, his arm wrapped around me.

‘ El Cruce ,’ he commanded, as I let him turn me around to face him and then take me in hold for the traditional tango cross, crossing my feet in sync with his gentle pivot as he led me across the floor.

‘Let’s go again from the beginning,’ I suggested, and he nodded his approval.

While I went to cue up the music, I watched him rubbing the small white towel he carried with him over his face and neck. And then I tore my eyes away, thinking that the less I actually looked at him, the better.

As the music played, I began to let myself relax into it as we repeated the steps, over and over, finding our rhythm, adding in more complicated moves, even trying a lift.

I let the music wash over me as I followed his lead, trying my hardest to forget that this was Gabriele in front of me, imagining another dancer in his place.

Someone I had absolutely no feelings for, whom I was having to force a connection with under great duress, for the good of the performance.

Before I knew it, we’d been rehearsing for over an hour and the routine was beginning to take shape.

‘You seem pleased with yourself,’ he commented, as he glugged at his bottle of water and I did the same.

I swallowed my mouthful hard, nearly sending it down the wrong way. ‘How do you mean?’

‘In your opinion it is going well?’

‘I think we’re making a good start, yes,’ I replied, bristling.

What was he getting at? There was no way he could deny that the dance was beginning to come together, and I was coming up with lots of ideas of my own, which he’d seemed to like.

‘Then this just shows your inexperience,’ he said. ‘We have a long way to go, and only two and a half weeks before opening night to do it.’

Okay, then. Clearly, I’d been lulled into a false sense of security. He was being difficult for the sake of it. Was this how it was going to be the whole time? Was he like this with everyone, I wondered, or was it just me he had a problem with?

I’d only ever had one proper dance partner before – Tomas.

We’d competed together throughout childhood and our teenage years, and he was like the brother I’d never had.

We bickered, sure, but we never spoke to each other the way Gabriele was speaking to me right now, like he hated me; like he wanted me to mess up so that he had somebody to blame if things didn’t go exactly to plan.

‘Have you got a problem with me getting the job?’ I asked him, deciding that being upfront and direct was the key if this was ever going to work. I was prepared to lay it all out on the table if he was.

‘Why would I have a problem?’ he asked, his mouth contorting into the sort of sneer that indicated, yep, he had a massive problem.

‘You tell me,’ I said, doing a quick sweep of the studio, gathering up the cups that I and the other dance teachers had left dotted about the place throughout the day.

Coffee was the main way I managed to keep myself alert and energized for each and every lesson.

‘Has it got something to do with your girlfriend? Only, I know she auditioned just before me, and I see she’s been cast in the ensemble.

I’m guessing you’d much rather be dancing with her in the lead instead of me. Is that it?’

He spluttered, looking at me aghast. ‘What girlfriend?’

‘Daniella, I think her name is. She blew you a kiss on the way out of her casting?’

I tried to keep judgement out of my voice, but I had found it a bit ridiculous – if she was going to see him later, why did she need to make such a big deal about it as she left the room?

She’d caught my eye on the way out, as if to warn me not to have too much of a good time because he was hers and so was the job.

Obviously, the latter had turned out not to be true.

‘Daniella is not my girlfriend. She is my former dance partner.’

‘Didn’t look that way,’ I said, trying not to sound bothered.

‘Anyway, why would it matter if I was dating somebody?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows at me, goading me.

‘Obviously it wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘I was simply trying to work out why everything I say seems to irritate you.’

‘I had not realized you were such a delicate flower, Lira,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you ought to go back to teaching your wedding dances. I am sure everyone is molto nice to you there.’

‘They are, actually. And for the record, speak to me as your equal, or don’t speak to me at all. Now, shall we run what we’ve got one more time, before you have to get your train? The last one leaves at ten past ten.’

He shuddered. ‘I would hate to be stuck all the way out here for the night.’

God, he was annoying. He was nothing like the man I remembered from Paris, who had been sweet and attentive and had acted like he never wanted to let me go.

I jabbed at my phone to press play on the music and took my place on the dance floor, waiting for Gabriele to join me.

‘Five, six, seven, eight,’ I said, impatiently.

We began to dance, both of us easily remembering the steps we’d rehearsed.

Irritatingly, every time we found ourselves attached at the hip or the forehead or the nose, as was traditional in the Argentine tango, I forgot all about how much his attitude was driving me mad.

Instead, I kept remembering how otherworldly it had felt when we’d been in bed together and he’d been pounding into me so intensely I’d thought I might have been about to pass out.