Mister Romance by Amelia Simone (the reading list .txt) 📕

No racing. Check. How slow could I go? Slow enough that I flashed a little stomach and nothing further? I could work with that. I moved into position on the wall as the music started. Watching Meghan perform had changed the atmosphere in the studio. Discomfort had faded to interest. I let the notes wash over me, conscious of the others around me, even with my eyes softly closed.

I swayed to the beat and made my way through the routine, tugging gently at the bottom of my tank, and dragging it slowly over my heated skin. The soft fabric rubbed against my side as I stretched it taut and scraped it up. Power washed through me. I could reveal as little or as much as I wanted. Tease. Play. Enjoy the fabric against my skin. I dropped the hem back to cover my heated abdomen and went into my hair tosses.

I tried to let go of any self-consciousness but worrying about what I looked like clung like an oily film. I slowly rolled to my left shoulder against the wall, and as I did, I grabbed the bottom of my tank, pulling it up my body and over my head.

Error. Miscalculation.

I was stuck, thanks to my shoulder braced against the wall. My inability to see and the fabric covering my face made it hard to breathe. Remembering Meghan’s words, I inhaled slowly to calm myself and tried again. I gave an extra shimmy of my hips and used it to help me push off the wall, leaving my shirt to trail more-or-less gracefully behind.

Nailed it. If by nailed it, making it all the way out of my shirt counted.

Slinking toward the pole, I executed the first spin as the music was ending. I scuttled back to the wall and my shirt, slipping it on quickly while Meghan congratulated us on our exploration. Oh, I had explored all right. Power. Followed by panic. I’d tried to recover, but probably missed grace by a mile. Then again, I’d finished the combination, and that was something I couldn’t have imagined in my first class.

“What did you think of that exercise?” Meghan asked.

My talent for silence helped me wait my classmates out. A few finally piped up.

“I got caught in my shirt,” Becca said.

“Yeah, I got stuck too,” an older woman added with a laugh.

“Everyone gets caught up sometimes. You have to keep dancing. Dance your way out slowly, and no one will know,” Meghan said. “Even I get stuck sometimes. But if you keep dancing and move through it, no one else will ever know.”

Meghan’s admission bolstered my confidence. No one was an expert. We were all flailing about the best we could, trying not to panic so we could pretend it was part of the dance. Maybe I’d been too hard on myself. It was nice to know I wasn’t the only one struggling. My classmates had gotten stuck too. But we pushed through.

Every time I hadn’t felt good enough, I’d quit. Ballet. Band. Basketball. Failing my organic chemistry mid-term in college had derailed my secret dreams of scientific research. I’d let go. But maybe being stubborn, being willing to be bad and just keep dancing through was the only way to get better. The first time I failed at getting an IV in a patient, I hadn’t given up nursing. I’d practiced. Meghan made everything look so effortless. Hearing her admit that sometimes she flailed and had to talk herself down quieted some of my fears.

Instead of rushing to my car as I’d done after previous sessions, I hung out for a few minutes, chatting with my classmates. We were all a hot, sweaty mess, but no one cared. Becca slipped back into the studio and danced again as another classmate videoed her routine. She rocked it. Tentacles of envy slithered under my skin as I watched her push to her feet, breathing hard. Could I look that confident?

I dug for my phone and held it in my hand, glancing between it and the others still in the studio.

“Do you want a video?” Meghan asked with a knowing smile.

I nodded. With no mirrors in the studio, I was more than a little curious to see what I looked like. Meghan grinned. “I’ll help you get set up.”

I moved into position as she started the music. Just dance through. I held that mantra in mind as I focused on the song and the beat, softly closing my eyes. Each movement flowed, and I made it through the entire routine—spins and floor work—without pause.

“Sexy lady!” Becca and Meghan catcalled as I opened my eyes to my audience.

“Very fluid, Tamra. I love watching you dance.”

I flushed and thanked Meghan for her help as I retrieved my phone.

That night after a shower and slipping into pajamas, I reviewed the video. Not half bad. Steps that felt awkward in the moment were smooth on the screen. I looked confident. Powerful. No one would ever see this video, but I’d know. I’d know that I could pull off a performance that centered me. No fading into the background. No invisibility. I wasn’t beige or boring. The Tamra in the video had confidence. Fake confidence, but confidence. Someday it would be real. No one needed to know that I was a hot mess on the inside. Sexy and feminine could be the new me.

My mind shifted suddenly, wondering what Chase would make of the video. Would Chase guess that the vixen from the video masqueraded behind the scrubs and practical shoes that were my day-to-day uniform?

Chapter 13 - Chase

On Sunday I begged Jimmy to come hang out before Tamra was set to arrive. He could distract me from anxiety about all the ways I might piss her off over the course of a dinner and make sure I was ready on time. I planned to use Jimmy as a sounding board for potential conversation topics and a sanity check that my apartment was appropriate for guests.

I spent so