Page 55 of Wicked Dance
“No,” Blitz says. “I will not have a negative thing to say about Livia’s dancing.”
“Honey, you won’t have to,” Amara says. “Her hesitation and inexperience are going to be evident.” She looks out into the seats where a man sits behind a huge soundboard. “Ricky, give us a waltz.”
After a few seconds of silence, the music begins.
“Just dance for a moment,” Amara says. “Let’s see where you are.”
Blitz takes me in his arms. I try to forget everyone else and just follow him. I did it the night of the finale, tuned out the studio audience, the angry finalists, everything but him.
But it’s harder this time. I’m not coming in for a surprise. There are expectations. Stakes. Blitz tries to turn us and I stumble, losing the rhythm.
He leans in close. “It’s all right,” he says softly in my ear. “We have nothing to prove. It’s just a few months of our lives, five episodes, then we’re done.”
I settle in and let the music work its magic. I don’t look at Amara as we pass, nor Devon. I follow Blitz’s lead in the waltz, sweeping and turning with him, until finally, my nerves start to calm.
