“Yeah. Much much easier.” He teased. She smiled for the first time since he’d seen her and he had to stop himself from reaching out to touch her, she was so beautiful. “You know I’ve been searching for a dance partner for quite some time and I think you might be it.” He said on impulse.
“Woah! Hold it right there. A what! I am a solo act and I like to be in front of my own business. So thanks but no thanks.” She left him standing there and rushed off to stuff her things into the duffel bag she’d brought. He followed her.
“And that’s a good thing but just give me a chance. I know we can make magic on stage together. For what it’s worth, when I saw you, I felt convinced that this person that moves with such angelic grace was sent by God to bless the earth’s inhabitants by letting us behold you.” She laughed lightly pulling another band out of her bag and packing the hair in place again. Although he wished she wouldn’t pack it back up, he didn’t exactly know how to tell her that letting it down made her so much more beautiful without sounding like a total creep.
If only he knew what was going through her mind at that instant. She remembered her father complaining bitterly about her unkempt mane but she had put her foot down about relaxing it. It was the only thing she had been able to control in her life and she cherished it. She always kept it packed though because that was the only way he’d let her keep it.
“You certainly do know how to flatter with your words. But now, I want to know if you can impress me on the dance floor.” She dropped her back abruptly, walked towards the stereo and changed the song to a fast beat.
“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. Show me what you can do and I’ll tell you if I like you enough to let you convince me. Richard, is it?”
“Go.” She gave his chest a playful shove and sat on the side bench to watch.
He started his dance with some pops and locks all the while feeling her watching his every move. Suddenly, he came up beside her and pulled her unto the dance floor. Despite her initial shock, they danced together seamlessly, never breaking eye contact. Mo didn’t think she had ever felt so free in her life. It was always about winning another competition or award, proving she was the best, pleasing her father. It was what he wanted and she did it. She loved dance no doubt but he had managed to turn it into a burden for her, making her train for hours on end, nursing blisters and sore muscles every few days. He was never satisfied. When he died, she had felt guilty for the relief that coursed through her. Although she knew he had loved her, his tough love left deeply ingrained scars that made her want to scream more times than was healthy. If only this handsome man knew what made her so flawless, he probably wouldn’t like her as much as he was currently proclaiming. (he liked her dance, not her) As if his hands and gaze had burned her, she pulled away from him, breaking eye contact and turned her back on him, picking up the bag again.
“So, what do you think?” He asked cautiously.
“I think that…this is not going to work. I’m sorry.” She started walking towards the door but he blocked her.
“Why not?” He was getting exasperated.
“It’s just not.”
“That’s not a reason Mo.” His eyes were tender and it almost broke her but she held her ground and when he reached out to touch her shoulders, she almost jumped out of her skin as her eyes widened in fear.
“Don’t you dare lay your hands on me!”
He quickly pulled back his hands and held them up in apology. “I’m sorry.” Horror filled him as he realized she’d thought he was going to hit her. She hadn’t said ‘Don’t touch me!’ she’d said, ‘Don’t you dare lay your hands on me!’
“Look Rickie or whatever your name is, I’ve spent years mastering this art okay. I’m not going to start trying to perfect another and the last thing I’ll do is settle for less. Do you get that? It always has to be perfect!”
To be continued…