Finding Your Feet Page 6

  Evie quirked an eyebrow. That seemed like deflection, but before she could ask him his real name, she saw Brock fix Gigi with an intense stare, one that said I knew it. She also saw how Gigi avoided looking at the cameraman. Oh. Oh. That seemed like a story. She decided she’d leave it for now. “So you have seen the film.”

  Gigi raised an eyebrow. “Film?”

  “Evie, we have to go,” Tyler said tightly. “We’ve wasted twenty minutes already.”

  “I recommend it.” Evie pulled her hand out of Gigi’s. “You might learn something.”

  “Oooh, I like her,” Gigi said, turning to Tyler. He stopped short, looking Tyler up and down. “Who shoved a stick up your ass?”

  “Don’t give me ideas,” Tyler muttered, walking past them.

  Katie moved after him, and Evie watched as Gigi very obviously avoided Brock by walking around him and through the finance department door. Mark followed him with all the obliviousness of a puppy. Brock stared at the door, his ears red, then trailed after Tyler. Interesting. Evie ran to catch up.

  Tyler strode quickly, his entire body stiff. Evie wondered if Gigi and he were friends or enemies. Or . . . oh! Boyfriends? Possibly? Hence that tension with Brock? Tyler didn’t strike her as gay, but she didn’t exactly have the most developed gaydar in the world.

  “Uh, so Gigi seemed . . . nice,” she said as they left the corridor.

  Tyler gave a sharp laugh. “Don’t even try. He’s anything but nice.”

  Not boyfriends, then. “Is he your friend?”

  A long-suffering laugh this time. “Unfortunately.”

  They turned down another corridor. “And he’s doing this too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you two competitive?”

  Tyler snorted. “Do bears crap in the woods?” He seemed less wound up now. “Don’t worry about him. He likes to stir things up. Deep down, when it’s inconvenient, he’s a good guy.”

  Tyler pushed at a door marked Practice Room 5, and Evie walked into a studio space. Mirrors lined two of the walls and a barre ran around the perimeter. Light poured through two windows, and a stereo sat in one corner with mats stacked beside it. She stopped short just inside the door, her nerves clawing up her stomach. Oh good God, this was real. She was going to dance for the next three and a half hours. Somehow. Shit.

  Tyler dumped his bag in one corner and pulled out his MP3 player. Katie and Brock walked around the room with the camera, gauging the light. Evie couldn’t seem to move. Tyler looked up at her. “You coming, Godzilla?”

  She blinked in surprise, then blushed. “You saw him.”

  “Yeah. I’ve seen the movies too. You’re a fan?” He focused on the MP3 player, picking a tune.

  Evie nodded. “Yeah, I liked them.”

  “I guess that’s where Sarah’s nickname for you comes from.” He seemed very focused on the player.

  “It’s not, but the name tied in well with my taste in films.” She put her backpack down next to his.

  “Okay,” he said, apparently done with chitchat, “I’ve choreographed a dance I think you’ll be able to do. I’m going to show you both parts, mine and yours, as best I can. Just watch and tell me what you think.”

  She nodded.

  He went to the centre of the room and put his earbuds in. Pressed Play. He stood very still, then burst into dancing.

  Evie drew in a small, surprised breath as he danced with an invisible person. The movements, as far as she could tell, were a mix of swing and fluid, interpretive stuff. Fast, controlled, elegant, and smooth, he moved as though what he was doing was easy. The steps were also crazy quick. Her heart sank; no way could she do that intricate footwork and keep up with him and look good doing it. Shit, shit, shit.

  When he performed her part, though, her doubts increased. Her part was all dominance and ownership of the stage. It sat well on him, but she couldn’t pull off that kind of attitude. There was a sexual element too. Of course, she could perform it and have fun with it, but if he expected her to dig deep and expose her supposed inner sex goddess for the stage, she was toast. Her steps were just as quick as his, if slightly less technical. By the time he finished, Evie was wondering if losing the deposit was really such a big deal.

  “What do you think?” he asked breathlessly, sweat coating his face and neck.

  Evie noticed for the first time that he was wearing a tank that exposed his arms and shoulders, because sweat glittered there too. She’d worn her jogging gear, figuring the running tights, tank top, and sports bra were the most comfortable clothes she usually sweated in. Which meant she’d chosen the right thing. Good. That was a start.

  “That was amazing, but I think you better lower your expectations,” she said.

  His entire frame relaxed. “Not possible,” he said.

  Ouch. Say what you really think.

  “It looks like . . .” She blushed. “Like the guy really wants the girl, but she’s making him work for it.”

  “That’s the whole thing in a nutshell.”

  “What’s the music?”

  He smiled, a genuine full grin that flashed some teeth and completely changed his face. He looked friendly, which honestly threw her a bit.

  He beckoned with an earbud. “Come here.” She walked to him, put the earbud in, and he pressed Play.

  The quick beat and distinctive opening bars lit up her senses. Evie knew this song. She liked this song. “Jet? Really?”

  He nodded.

  “Excellent choice.”

  “You’re going to hate it after this week.”

  She pulled out the earbud, nervousness building in her stomach. The moves were fast, the music was fast, the footwork was complicated, and she was dancing with a gorgeous guy who seemed unimpressed by her. Great start, Evie.

  New fucking experiences.

  They warmed up, getting Evie’s blood pumping and releasing some of the nervous energy building inside of her. Then he showed her the first few moves and had her copy him. When she had them down to his satisfaction, he clapped out the beat and told her to match the movements to it. She messed up instantly.

  “It’s quick,” he said.

  “No kidding,” she gasped, glaring at him.

  He did the moves over again for her. “You’ve got the stage at the beginning. You have to keep the audience’s attention and make use of the stage and finish in the right position for me to grab your attention.” His tone reminded her of primary school teachers telling her she knew how to do her homework, so there wasn’t any excuse for not doing it. “You can’t take it slow and you can’t try to hide.”

  Good God. Keep the audience’s attention? No hiding? Since when had she tried to do that? She was in the middle of a bloody studio, there was nothing to hide behind. How was she going to do this? No way could she do this.

  Her dubiousness must’ve shown, because he frowned at her. “Hey, you can do it. You did it at the audition.”

  “At the audition?”

  “Yeah. Attitude. Channel it. Let it lift your body up and out.” His posture and body rose and extended as he spread his arms and straightened his back.

  Evie copied him. Energy thrilled through her as she spread out into the space. Her body felt taller, her arms longer, her legs poised to . . . to do something, to move or to take flight. She felt centre stage, even though she was near one wall of the room. Exposed, but thrilling.

  Ah. Amazing what a simple movement could do.

  He nodded, looking pleased. “That’s it.”

  Wait a moment. “This has just been me so far. So this isn’t even the part where we dance together?” Evie asked.

  “What you just learned was the first nineteen seconds of the song.”

  She stared at him in shock. “No way. I haven’t learned that. I’ve learned the two-minute-long, take-my-sweet-time version.” The reality of what she was trying to do hit her. “Oh God, we only have a week.”

  He shook his head. “Yeah, Godzilla. It’s not a walk in t
he park.”

  “Bollocks.” She gazed at her feet. How the hell was she going to do this?

  “We’ll get there.” He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself rather than her. “Have some water and we’ll go over it again.”

  And they did. Over and over again. Attitude notwithstanding, she felt completely exposed and incompetent. She got every other step wrong, on camera and in front of Tyler. Eventually, the first few steps came together, but her head was starting to get fuzzy with the effort of trying to remember each step in order. An hour later, Evie was too ready to flop down on the ground for a break. She dropped where she stood and spread out on the floor.

  Immediately, Brock and the camera were in her face. Katie angled a microphone at her mouth.

  Evie frowned. “What the—”

  “You look tired,” Katie said from her right side. “How are you doing?”

  Evie gave a weak thumbs-up. “Tired.”

  “Is this easier or harder than you thought it would be?”

  “I didn’t think about it at all,” Evie admitted. She realized as she said it that no, she hadn’t considered this in terms of her holiday plan. She’d just agreed to do it and fit the holiday around the dancing. How . . . utterly unlike her.

  Katie nodded and leaned in closer. “You seem to be getting along well with Tyler.”

  “I suppose . . .”

  “He’s kinda cute, eh?”

  Evie lolled her head to her left and looked at him. He was swigging Gatorade and gazing at them, apparently listening to every word. She lolled her head back and shrugged. “He’ll do.”

  She heard rather than saw Tyler choke on the Gatorade. Brock panned the camera up in time to catch Tyler clapping a hand over his mouth to stop it dripping. Evie smiled, and Katie winked at her, red hair flashing in the light.

  “So,” Katie said, “tell us about yourself. What’s your name?”

  “Evie Whitmore.”

  “You’re not from Canada, judging by your accent.”

  Evie would hope so. “No. I’m from England.”

  Tyler tried to mop up as best he could without snorting more of the Gatorade into his sinuses. Shit. Shit. Smooth, Tyler.

  This session was going way better than he’d thought it would. Sure, she’d shown up late, but she was listening and taking direction. She moved conscientiously, which made him suspect she exercized and knew how to listen to her body. A body that had pleasantly surprised him; she was a natural at dancing. Lots of people were, but she was fluid and responsive. Plus, uh, nice to look at. Especially now when her hair had escaped her braid and frizzed around her face. Great legs.

  Focus, Ty.

  Best of all, she liked the choreography. God, that was a weight off his chest.

  If she wasn’t a tourist, Tyler suspected he’d be in trouble. Liked his moves, dry humour, excellent accent, pretty, could handle Gigi, and she could dance. Gigi was right—she was completely his type. But he couldn’t afford to think like that.

  He pulled out his phone to distract himself and found a text from his sister, Shana: Bro, will you freaking call me back already? How hard is it to return a call?

  “So what brings you to Toronto?” Katie asked.

  “Well, it’s a bit of a long story,” Evie began.

  What the hell is up with Shana? He called her, but got her voice mail instead, and listened to the automated “This person is not able to take your call right now” message with a frown. Okay, so Shana had been calling him a lot lately. The message she’d left on his phone the night before had been nervous chatter about random crap in Calgary. That was unusual for her. But until she said what the problem was, Tyler wasn’t sure if he should ask.

  The beep sounded.

  “Shana, call me back when you get a chance,” he said, then hung up.

  If he was honest, he had other things to think about, like how his next paycheck was a week away, and he was eating beans, rice, and canned vegetables to make his money go further. Oh, and how this stupid competition was throwing Lucette’s ghost up into his head.

  “Congratulations!” Katie was saying. “We’ll definitely be in touch. Now, if you don’t mind telling us, are you queer or an ally?”

  Tyler turned to watch as Evie replied without hesitation, “Oh, queer.”

  “Lesbian, or . . .?”

  Evie paused.

  Please don’t be a lesbian. Wait, what? Where the hell had that come from? He knew multiple lesbians who’d smack him one just for thinking that.

  She took a deep breath, then said, “I’m asexual. Well, ace spectrum.”

  Asexual.

  Asexual?

  His heart dropped. He missed Katie’s next question through a buzz of noise in his head, soon damped down by remembering she was Sarah’s friend. Sarah’s. The person whose first words to him had been, “I’m an aromantic cuddlewhore. What’s your poison, honey?” while respiking punch, for fuck’s sake. And she’d met Evie on Tumblr through “mutual interests.” Angsty Japanese media notwithstanding, he could see being asexual as strong common ground on which to base an internet friendship. Especially if you wanted to offer a place to stay while someone came over for Pride.

  Frankly, it was a surprise he was surprised.

  You idiot, Ty. What were you starting to think?

  He refused to answer that.

  “Not out to family, but I am to certain friends,” Evie was saying.

  “Is that a problem for you?”

  “No.” Evie shrugged, still on the floor. “It’s never really come up. I’ve told my family about my boyfriends and some of the girlfriends but—”

  “You’ve dated?” Katie blurted.

  Evie arched her eyebrow. “Yes.” She leaned towards Katie conspiratorially. “I’ve even had sex.”

  Katie went pink and Brock cleared his throat.

  Evie made a scissoring motion with her fingers. “Apparently I’m very good with my hands.”

  Tyler’s crotch went heavy, and he sucked in a breath. He’d forgotten how hot hands could be. Goddamn, girl.

  “Okay,” Katie sputtered. “So, your family is okay with apparent bisexuality, but not with asexuality?”

  Evie frowned. “They don’t really believe in queer people, period. I mean, they know about who I’ve dated. My dad and my stepdad never talk about it. Mum said once that she went through an experimental phase as well and got through it without any problems, and that I would too.” She grimaced. “I decided not to pursue the topic.”

  Katie smiled grimly. “Sounds rough. This is good for us, though. I don’t think there’s another ace participating in this. You’re a rare bunch.”

  Evie shrugged. “Not really. One in one hundred. It’s the same ratio as redheads in the general population.”

  Katie’s smile froze. Tyler turned away to hide the smirk on his face, and to put his phone away. Much as he enjoyed watching Evie mess with the film crew, the break had to end.

  He turned in time to see Evie stand from a perfect squat. Her leg muscles shifted under the material of her jogging pants, and something about her body clicked in his mind. Strong legs. He studied her arms and shoulders. Somewhat bulky, yeah, but it wasn’t fat. No, it was muscle.

  “Is this your first time dancing?” Katie asked her.

  “Yeah. Normally I run and lift weights,” she said. “But dancing is new—”

  “You lift weights?” he asked. If that was true, then that opened up an awesome range of moves for them.

  Evie’s attention snapped to him. “Yes,” she said, tilting her chin as though he were going to argue with her.

  Like he would. He was too excited by a new idea. “What weight can you lift?”

  She eyed him uncertainly. “Depends on the muscle group.”

  Katie and Brock retreated, camera rolling.

  He glanced down at his body. Since starting T, he’d bulked up, but his basic frame hadn’t changed. He was roughly her height and weight. “Could you lift me?” />
  Whatever she was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. “You?” she echoed in disbelief.

  “Yeah.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  She eyed him up and down thoughtfully. “Maybe. You’re not talking about some fancy over-the-head lift, are you?”

  “No. Just pick up and put down.” He walked up to her. “Try it.”

  She looked uncertain. “Are you sure? I’d need to grab you here.” She pointed at his abdomen. “You’re all muscle, so you’re heavier than I am. The lower I go, the easier you’ll be to lift.”

  “That’s fine.” He held his arms out loosely. “Go for it.”

  She hesitated.

  He beckoned. “Come on, Evie. Keep your back straight. Do it slowly, and don’t hurt yourself.” Or me.

  She stepped in closer, and he caught the smell of her: herbal shampoo, cottony deodorant, and a base note of spicy sweat. Nice.

  Tyler. For real. Freaking focus already.

  He tensed his core as she crouched down, wrapped her arms around his hips, and straightened with her legs. Just like that, he was up and supported. He looked down at her. She was staring into his shirt with immense concentration. She held him securely for a beat, then gently put him back down. Easy. Awesome.

  “Perfect,” he said, patting her shoulder.

  She smiled. “I’ve never had a guy say that to me after I picked him up.”

  “You pick up guys often?” fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Oh dear God, Tyler. What are you doing?

  Her eyes glittered at the innuendo. “Nope. My style of picking people up isn’t to everyone’s tastes.”

  Ha. “I like it. I like it so much, I’m going to work it into the dance.”

  Her face fell. “What?”

  “It’ll be great.” His mind was running through her part of the dance and reworking a quick part that involved them battling each other for attention and space on the stage. He stepped away and went through the moves, seeing how they fit together with the beat. Evie watched him patiently, her arms crossed. When he was happy, he retrieved his notes from his bag and quickly scribbled the basic lift in there. This was going to be fun.

  “Okay.” He rose and returned to her. “Do it again, but instead of putting me straight down, move me to your right side.”