Page 31 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
I’ll take that air kiss and jam it down his throat.
And then he has the audacity to ask me such a preposterous question that it dismantles my entire floating chunk of universe.
“Can I watch you dance?”
I choke on a spit glob in my mouth. “What?”
“I want to watch you dance, Cali,” he elaborates.
He…wants to watch me dance? Nobody’s ever watched me dance before. Well, except for my students and Hadley. In college, I was majoring in dance, and I became really close to one of my contemporary professors during a stressful semester. Contemporary was the first dance style I ever took, and it was then when I realized that contemporary in particular had a way of allowing me to be vulnerable without talking through my feelings. Dance was a way for me to escape from the stress of my other classes in college—from the state of the family I left behind, which continued to haunt me while I was hundreds of miles away from them.
After my semester with Ms. Katharine, she asked me if I’d ever be interested in being a teacher for a college-level contemporary class. Of course I said yes, so for the next semester, I was a dance teacher on the side. Teaching others to embrace dance and work through their emotions wasn’t only rewarding, but it helped me understand my own emotions better.
So when my mother got sick my sophomore year of college, the first thing I allowed myself to feel was loss. Not just on account of my mother, but on account of the one outlet I’d grown to lean on—dance. I didn’t want to return to my old life. When I went to college, I thought my mother would get better. I thought I’d be able to have a normal college experience and step into an actual career. But all of that was taken away in the blink of an eye.
My mother’s condition had deteriorated so badly that she was no longer able to care for Teague, which necessitated my return home. And even if my fatherhadstayed, there isn’t a bone in my body that would trust him to adequately care for my mother. He always did things half-assed, even when it came to the well-being of this family—which makes sense as to why he never bothered looking for a steady job to help keep us afloat.
When I told Ms. Katharine that she’d have to find another teacher to take over, she said she ran a dance studio in Riverside that was looking for a new instructor.
She saw how important dance was to me, and she didn’t want me to be without it. It was plain luck that a deal as good as that one fell into my lap—that I’d be able to help others, helpmyself (to some degree), and help my mother with expenses. The only catch was that the dance class they needed an instructor for wasn’t a typical style of dance.
That’s when I found heel dancing. It was sexy, different, and combined all the foundations of other genres of dance into one. The thing that appealed most to me, however, was running a class where women, no matter their backgrounds or personal lives, could come together and share in the strength of what it meant to be a woman. That safe space isn’t always available in society, nor is it handed out to those who want it. Safety shouldn’t be a privilege; it should be a right. And I guess it felt like it was my duty to cultivate a safe space for others because Ms. Katharine’s contemporary class had been a safe space for me.
If there’s anything I want in life, it’s to be someone else’s Ms. Katharine.
And while heel dancing isn’t something I’m ashamed of, I’m afraid to share it with other people. When I dance, all my emotions float to the surface, and everything’s so easy to read from an outside perspective. Dancing lowers the façade I keep so firmly in place to hide my vulnerability. That’s why I’m afraid to let people look under the surface—for them to see how broken I really am. And Gage wants under all my fucking surfaces.
“Yeah, not happening,” I rebuke, folding my arms over my chest.
“Why not?”
Why not?Why not?Oh, maybe because I’m an absolute mess of a human being who channels all her emotional baggage into her dancing, and you’ll be able to see just how messed up I am from a mile away. Then, upon seeing said mess, you’ll bolt for the hills and think to yourself,Phew, that was a close one.
“I know you may be used to girls bending over backwards for your attention, but I’m not one of those girls.”
Gage laughs heartily—which isn’t the reaction I was expecting—and my stomach somersaults with a nauseating flutter. “Pretty sureIhadyoubent over backwards the last time we were together.”
Oh my God. I can’t believe he just said that!
“Plus, you don’t need to vie for my attention when you already have it, Spitfire.”
Curse Gage and his surprising wittiness that does make him more likable but is overall infuriating. I’m not ready to dance for Gage. I’m not sure if I ever will be.
So I rack my brain for a solution to stop the unstoppable—the unstoppable being Gage—and I take a second sifting through excuses and ideas before one presents itself to me. “How about we dance together?” I propose, adjusting the hem of my polyester tank top.
Gage’s composure suffers a quick crack right down the middle, and his eyes enlarge to the size of discs, an unmissable blush scattering over his cheeks. “Dance? Together? Dance together?” he spews out.
“Yes, Gage. I mean, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you can kind of dance.”
“I…it’s just…” He’s scrambling for an excuse just like I was until his darting eyes make a connection with the culprit of this entire lesson. “My hip! Yeah, my hip. I can’t dance because of my hip, but you already know that.” The strangest bird-squawk of a laugh ejects from his mouth.
Damn. He really doesn’t like this idea. So I immediatelylovethis idea.
Before he can feed me more pathetically unbelievable excuses, I divest myself of my tank top, throwing it to the side with a flirtatious wink in Gage’s direction.
Gage’s gone mannequin-still, his gaze now transfixed on my tits like there’s some kind of magnetic pull. A black mini rompergives my boobs a generous push, and the trim of it flares out in ruffled frills just below my butt.
I’m getting back at him for teasing me with all his stupid muscles this session.
