“My shoes have heels,” he protested.
“Yeah, that’s not what you’re going to be wearing on Sunday.”
“Are you kidding?” That panicked look was back in his eyes.
“Lucky Luc gets to wear a tux and special dance shoes with a heel.”
“But I don’t want to be any taller than you than I already am.”
“Too bad.”
“Oh my…” His last word was muffled as he hid his face behind his hands. “Remind me why I’m doing this again?”
“Your mom. Cancer patients.” She patted his arm. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, we can start today with the basic movements and do those with bare feet.”
“You do not want to see my feet.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s bare feet or dance shoes.”
He groaned, then toed off his sneakers, then tugged off his socks. She frowned, looking at his feet. They were huge, and a little hairy, which wouldn’t film well. She glanced at Ella, but she just made a “keep going” gesture, so she did.
“Alright then.”
“What about you? Are you going barefoot too?” he asked, pointing to her dance shoes.
“Are you worried I’m going to stab you with my heels?”
“Super worried,” he drawled.
She laughed. “Come on.” She grabbed his hands and drew him closer. “Now, this Sunday we’re doing the foxtrot, and like I said, it’s fairly easy. It’s all about the hold, the slow and quick steps, and the rise and fall. Have you waltzed?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never really danced before,” he mumbled.
“Could you repeat that?” Ella asked.
Luc sighed, and nodded, saying in a louder voice, “I’ve never really danced before.”
Bailey knew this already but still felt her smile fade. She pushed it back into megawatt territory. “Well, that’s awesome.”
“It is?”
She nodded. “It means we don’t have to unlearn any bad habits.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’ve got you now, and you’re mine, all mine.”
He snickered. “You’re weird.”
“I know. Just imagine how weird you’re going to be at the end of this.”
He gave a burst of rumbly laughter. “Come on then, Miss Dance Pro. Let’s see what you got. Hit me.”
He felt like he’d been hit by a ten-ton truck. Bailey had transformed from Miss Sparkly into Ms. No-Nonsense as she guided him into the movements, explaining all kinds of things he barely grasped, too focused on the way she touched him, maneuvering his body as she pushed him around, seemingly unconscious of what such movements must look like to the camera crew. Sure, he’d had a vague idea of what would be involved, but this awareness of just how physical it would be, how close they would get, to the point he could see a sweat bead sliding along her collarbone, he hadn’t expected that.
She was studying his hips now, tapping his right, as he tentatively held her left hip. He’d been worried about touching her, feeling like a moose trying to hold hands with a butterfly, but then she’d just slapped his hand there, and grasped his left hand, and now seemed none too shy about pushing and prodding him to move the way she wanted.
“Now put your right foot back.”
He put a foot back.
She shook her head. “No, your right foot.”
He did the same movement.
She laughed. “The other right foot.” She tapped his right hip again.
Oh.
“Now, put it back, then bring it in.”
He obeyed.
“Okay, now let’s look at your arms. Lift them out, then…” She stood behind him and pushed his right arm forward, slightly down. “You’re going to grab my back so hold your hand like this.” She demonstrated. “Remember, it’s all about the frame, and they want to see you upright, not hunched over, so keep your shoulders set, locked in place, and don’t lean forward. There needs to be space between us.” She shifted to the front, clasping his right hand he hadn’t dared move.
She spread her fingers between his, and drew him into the movements.
He tried to follow, but he was clumsy, nearly tripping over her feet in his attempts to not do that very thing. “Man.”
“It’s okay. You’re gonna get there.”
