19. The Contest

The Contest

Felix

“ R eady?” I ask, my voice trembling. I need to man up and control the fear sinking into my balls.

I take deep breaths, hoping a relaxed demeanor will calm Nicole. Her cheeks are pink, and she nervously taps her toes. The sound makes a clacking sound that sets my teeth on edge, but I won’t scold her for it. I can’t. We both have the same roiling nerves, and neither one of us wants to let Dex down. I won’t dare bark at her and set off her concentration.

“I think so,” she mumbles. She cracks her knuckles and acts like my question is intrusive. I can’t blame her there. I haven’t given her much reason to trust my reactions to conversation.

The room is dim except for the dance area. Spotlights hang in strategic positions around the room, but I can still make out the table of judges against the wall, a bright white tablecloth drawing attention to them since the rest of the room has dark flooring and curtains. It feels odd to disco in something that looks like a ballroom.The judges wear stern expressions like they’re jury members in a murder case instead of judging a dance contest. Around us, other dancers in sequined leotards lean against the walls, numbers pinned to our backs and all looking around at the other dancers with nervous eyes.

Dex sits in the third row of the audience. I quickly look at him, and he waves, smiles, and gives us a thumbs-up as Nicole blows out a nervous sigh next to me.

“It’ll be fine,” I mumble, bumping her shoulder.

Since Dex has been out of commission with teaching any classes that require too much movement on his knee, Nicole’s been helpful with rescheduling his classes to meet my schedule and smoothing things over with our clients. I don’t know why. You’d think she’d be happy to see the back of me every day after the way I’ve treated her since we met. She smiles and hands me a cup of coffee every morning. She hasn’t given up on me, and she’s clearly not giving up on Dex.

If you’d have told me three months ago that this girl has a spark of fight in her, I’d have called you a liar.

I’ve dropped her on her ass – literally – and she got up every single time. After a while, I know she expected it, but she took the fall, brushed off her butt, squared her shoulders back, and told me to start again. Maybe it was intentional on her end, but dropping her and making her uneasy lost its shine when I couldn’t piss her off. She never lashed out, probably for Dex’s sake, and she acted like she was above me. This one’s not nearly as weak as I pegged her to be.

Was it a fight I was looking for all along? Dex and I were instantly in love, and that’s the way he was with Nicole, much to my annoyance. But have I always been looking for the tension I need? Someone to fight with me so that Dex can love me hard right after?

She and Dex have still been seeing each other separately, and Dex and I go to dinner and a movie on nights when he’s not with Nicole. I know the stress of keeping us separate is eating at him, though. He puts a bright smile on for me when he comes home from dinner or a movie with her, but it’s not like his usual greeting when he comes home. He’s overcompensating with me, probably overcompensating with her, and stressed to the max that Nicole and I have to find a way to work and train together.

He smells like her all the time. I’m starting to associate her perfume with his normal smell. I came home one night last week and heard our bed hitting the wall, Dex moaning her name. My hand was on the doorknob, ready to join them like the time we took Nicole’s virginity, but I couldn’t. I stood there and listened while he made her come, and I listened to the rhythmic sounds of the bed frame hitting the wall while he orgasmed, moaning her name. It sounded so foreign to hear a name other than mine come from his lips during sex.

It also turned me on. I wanted them both so badly, but how could I just saunter into the room after how I treated her?

The funny thing is, I can’t help but realize that I’m the problem in this entire bullshit situation, and I’m afraid I’ll lose Dex because of it. I know he likes women. I know he wants children. I know he wants the mother of his children in his life. I’ve always been aware of this, and I need him to have these things. Hell, I’d like a child someday. I adore women as much as I love men. So why am I being an asshole to the one woman that’s come along who makes him happy and can give everything we want to both of us?

At this point, my pride is too in the way to apologize to either of them, especially Nicole. My hands are on her for hours a day. Lifting. Pulling. Twirling. Her body now feels like it’s molded to my fingers when I lift her. After just a few weeks, I’m almost as familiar with her body as I am with Dex’s.

Right now, she’s scared of a little dance competition. She rubs her thighs together like she desperately needs to go to the bathroom. She holds her shoulders still, but there’s a slight tremble to them, and her hands pull at her outfit.

I can’t stand to see her nervous and struggling, and that realization tells me how fucked up I am by her, Dex, and their relationship with each other.

The urge hits me like a brick to the face.

Dear God, I want to be somewhere in there.

I’m not sure how I’ll fit, but I suddenly want to fit into their life. Without Dex at her side, I have an overwhelming urge to protect and reassure her. She’s like an annoying sibling who I love to insult, but I’ll fucking kill anyone who hurts her .

My mind whirls with psycho-evaluating our group dynamic. Why it happens right this second, when I have a dance competition to win, I don’t know, but I let my mind roam to a place I’ve never explored. Have Nicole and I fallen into a good cop versus bad cop routine to fill the holes in Dex’s life without even consulting him first? Why do I want to take over the task of caring for her when Dex isn’t around? Because right now, if she’d allow it, I’d pull her to my chest and stroke her hair like I did at the hospital. My fingers twitch at my side with the urge.

On the dance floor, a couple finishes their dance and faces the judges. Still grim-faced and showing zero emotion, the judges mark their sheets with bright yellow pencils. The couple bows one last time and walks from the dance floor.

“We’re next,” I say, pulling my shoulders back and blowing out my own sigh.

I shake out my legs and make sure my costume looks put together with no sudden tears or wrinkles. My black body suit, popular with dancers and figure skaters the world over, matches Nicole’s sequined leotard. My outfit is meant to match hers but showcase the female dancer throughout the routine. Dex wanted nothing outlandish.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I slide my hand into hers. She startles at my touch, and I can’t blame her. She’s not used to me touching her without it being for training, work, or sexual pleasure when we’re both pleasing Dex.

She looks down at where our hands are joined and gives a weak smile. The small reassurance from her encourages me to double down, and I squeeze her fingers. “We’ve got this. Just me and you.”

Just us. The sentiment tears through me. Sure, we are helping Dex’s business, but this is just Nicole with me out on that dance floor in mere moments. Maybe I’m not as in love with her as I am with Dex, but I want to be happy with her performance, and I want her to be proud of mine.

I look away from her, not ready to deal with these strange new feelings that are so foreign, so completely opposite from what I’ve shown her.

“Remember what we’ve practiced, and we’ll win,” I say as the head judge announces us to polite applause from everyone in the room but Dex, who is clapping like a maniac in his seat.

Reaching the center of the dance floor, Nicole and I face each other, and I push my forehead to hers in starting position. When I wrap my hands around her back, she shivers like she’s cold. It’s warm in here, so I know she’s either nervous or turned on by my hands touching her so intimately. Maybe it’s both, and I can’t help but feel pleased somewhere in my dark heart.

“It’s just me. We’ve danced with way fewer clothes than this,” I joke.

She gives me a half-hearted smile, and I run my fingers up her spine, noticing the instant relaxation. “Dance with me, Nicole. For Dex.”

The music starts, and I’m transported to a world where nothing else exists. It’s me with Nicole, and I can practically feel Dex’s hot gaze as he watches us, a team player even though he isn’t doing the dancing. I can’t see his face, but I can feel his approval in my bones as Nicole and I finish the sexy shimmy and start our side steps. Our moves are crisp and clean, and a glow of pride and confidence spreads across Nicole’s face. Her smile lightens so much that by the time we get to the behind-the-neck arm movements, Nicole’s body is fluid, confident, and she lets me lead her.

I smile at her, trying to silently convey she’s nailing the routine. It must work because she grinds into me with sass that I, quite frankly, didn’t know she possessed. Her shoulders are poised, and a drop of sweat trickles from her temple.

She backs away from me and turns as I shuffle behind her. Our arm movements are in perfect unison, and I’m so busy watching her, amazed at her precision, that I almost mess up.

We simultaneously spin, Nicole falls back into the trust fall without worry, and I catch her in perfect position under her armpits. I pull her into a lift and spin in our circle for two turns before letting her slide down my body. Maybe it’s because we’re in competition, but she knows I won’t drop her this time. Too much is at stake. Frankly, I like it when she trusts me. Maybe I should try to earn it more often.

We complete the side-by-side footwork sequence, and her hand on my shoulder is strong yet relaxed enough so it doesn’t look like she gives a fuck what anyone thinks. We smile past the judges, both finding Dex’s eyes in the crowd, and his gaze from several yards away burns a hole through me. I’m not even jealous that he’s staring at Nicole like she’s lunch just as much as he’s looking at me.

For the last beats, we face each other one more time, and I pull her to me as she leans back, her tits halfway out of her leotard. It’s all I can do not to lean forward and run my tongue down into her cleavage. Maybe find a nipple.

No time for that.

Thunderous applause fills the room as the music ends, and I place a small kiss on Nicole’s nose. I press my forehead to hers to finish in starting position, and my smile matches hers.

“You did good, kid. Thanks,” I whisper.

She slides her arms around my neck and hugs me tightly. “That was amazing. Thanks for not dropping me, asshole.”

“Not in front of people,” I reply, hazarding a glance at the judges. Their expressions are still stern, but a couple of them slightly nod as they mark through their sheets. “And I’ll never drop you again.”

She raises an eyebrow, doubtful. “We’ll see.”

“My days of dropping you on your ass for kicks are over.”

Nicole looks at the crowd, and we both find Dex on his feet and clapping so hard his entire body shakes. Two bouquets, obviously one for each of us, are tucked under his armpit.

I slide my hand into Nicole’s again and shudder at how familiar it feels. How right. For the first time, I think about what Dex once said to me.

Nicole Tate feels like home. Just a little.

** *

Twenty-three other couples dance after us, and that’s in addition to the twenty-six that went before us. I tap my shoes against the linoleum as the judges line up the medals and trophies at the front of the room. The top six teams will get medals, with the top three also getting trophies, a mish-mash of cash prizes, and bragging rights that will skyrocket their studios and businesses for the next year. The trophies don’t vary in size, and they look the same from a distance, but I’m sure the place ranking will be engraved on the front of the trophy.

Behind me, Dex stands as close to my back as he can in mixed company. We’re in a generally accepting crowd, and we know several dancers in the group who certainly have different partner types, but we’re still not going to flaunt our relationship without knowing which judges judge more than dance contests.

Dex’s heat whispers against my back, and nerves pulse through my body. Thankfully, Nicole notices and moves next to me until our arms touch. Has she forgiven me? She winds her arm around my waist just as Dex wraps his arms around her from behind. He places a soft kiss on her shoulder. For the first time since I met her, it doesn’t bother me that he kisses her. I wonder if people saw me kiss her on the nose and treat her like a lover and are now seeing Dex do it.

We stand in a connected unit, and Dex’s finger whispers over my shoulder. “No matter what happens, you did amazing. We only need the top three to leverage this over the next year. Bragging rights on this can change our lives,” Dex says.

“I was so worried I’d mess up and you’d never talk to me again, Dex,” Nicole murmurs. I notice she directed it to Dex. She still has issues with me.

Dex squeezes her harder. “Believe me, you earned the fucking I’m going to give both of you later. I mean both of you in my bed. None of this one-at-a-time thing. We have some things to hash out.”

Before I can comment or even look at Dex to see what he’s thinking, the lead judge, a middle-aged man in wire-frame glasses with salt and pepper hair, taps on the microphone. High-pitched feedback fills the silence, and most people cover their ears. My group’s hands are otherwise busy, and we don’t dare stop touching each other.

My group. The words sucker punch me so hard in the gut as another thought follows it.

My family.

Even her.

“Thank you to all of the attending contestants today,” the judge says in a squeaky voice. He may be in charge, but he doesn’t like public speaking. “Everyone did well.”

“Bullshit,” Dex mutters under his breath. “Some people sucked ass.”

Nicole elbows him for me, and the man announces the sixth, fifth, and fourth-place winners in succession and hands them their medals and certificates as a Chicago Tribune photographer takes a picture of each couple.

With each team called, my hope both plummets and creeps into the clouds. After each announcement, there are fewer spots to place. Honestly, all the teams getting medals did great routines.

“In third place is Debbie Bowsker and Clark Williamson from Oak Park Dance Club Cooperative.”

Nicole stiffens next to me. There are only two spots left. One team put the pedal to the floor in their routine with more lifts and technical maneuvers than Nicole and I tried. Maybe if I had fostered trust instead of trying to break her, we could have attempted the same lifts and gasp-inducing maneuvers that only figure skaters are bold enough to attempt.

The third-place winners take their trophy, and the lead judge clears his throat again. “We seem to have a tie for first place, so we’ve unanimously decided to split the second-place prize money and first-place prize money and give half to both teams. I hope that’s an acceptable solution.”

My eyes flick to Dex, and Nicole squeezes my waist harder. “Oh, damn,” she whispers.

“The first team to win first place is Nola Lane from Midwest Dance Club partnering with Robert Dwyer of Chicago Ballroom.”

Around us, people applaud politely as a beautiful woman in her late teens or early twenties with auburn hair walks to the judge’s table while she holds hands with a man with dark hair and broad shoulders. They’re waved to the side for their pictures, and I look at the floor. Could we have possibly tied with them and their technical moves? We had better choreography with more fancy footwork and arm movements. Artistry counts for a lot, but placing now seems like a pipe dream.

“And last but not least, the other first-place finish is…” The man’s words trail off, and I want to punch him in the dick for making us wait. The entire crowd holds its breath. “Nicole Tate and Felix Rathbone representing Holden Dance Studio in Chicago.”

I hear applause. I hear my own last name, but it sounds foreign, and not one person in our little group registers the win for at least five seconds. Eyes turn to us, and I feel another competitor’s pat on my back, but I still don’t move. Then, Nicole and I turn to each other, and our eyes slowly widen at the same exact time. Our mouths open in screams, and we hug each other. I bounce Nicole up and down as Dex wraps us in a bear hug and buries his face into the back of my neck, public eyes be damned.

Eventually, Dex moves back and physically nudges Nicole and me toward the table to get our prize. She trembles more than she did before the dance as I accept the trophy and we both shake the judges’ hands.

When it’s time for our picture, we stand side-by-side for the newspaper reporter. “Say ‘cheese’ for the camera,” the man in the stereotypical fedora says .

Nicole and I both smile, our arms around each other. “Dex,” we both say at the same time.