Pride and Hate with Benefits [COMPLETED]

Chapter 5 - Two left feet and a tear

Ellie

My parents discouraged me from playing sports from a very young age. I'm not really sure how it happened. Lydia played soccer and was a cheerleader. She picks up complicated routines after seeing them a few times.

Meanwhile, my parents kept me far from any sport where I could get injured. I begged them to let me play soccer along with Lydia. They relented, and I spent one practice with them before they pulled me out. In one short hour I had skinned both knees, knocked out a tooth-thankfully a baby-tooth-and managed to faceplant hard enough to get a bloody nose. The nose and the tooth were separate incidents.

After that, they said I could run on flat surfaces and possibly play ping-pong. Since I had no interest in ping-pong, I stuck to running and books.

Not that I minded too much. Books were my real passion. I missed the camaraderie Lydia had with her teammates and later her squad, but I didn't really miss the physical activity.

Except for dancing. Dance class was never an option for me. By the time I knew it was something I wanted to learn, it had been ingrained in me that I was uncoordinated and clumsy. So I never mentioned it.

I would watch ballroom competitions with envy and try to learn the steps in my bedroom. After a broken lamp, I stopped even that.

I'm not sure what possessed me to ask Charlie for dance classes this year. But in a way, I think of this as a last chance. Irina is one of the best dance instructors there is. If she can't teach me, then this might be a dream I will never see come through.

I do my best to avoid the large, muscular man standing in the middle of the room with his partner draped on his arm.

"Good morning." I smile at Michael, my partner for these classes.

"Morning," he says in a gruff voice, and I swallow.

He wasn't too happy with my performance last week, and I think he wishes he would have any other partner but me. I try not to let it get to me. I've been practicing the steps in my bedroom, paranoid that Lydia would walk in on me and laugh. Truthfully, I'd rather she walked in on me masturbating.

"Good to see you all," Irina says as she walks in. She has a large presence. I can see her owning any floor she wants to dance on. "This week, we will learn the foxtrot. All you need to remember is slow-slow-quick-quick."

I groan. We spent the first two weeks learning the basics of the waltz. How to hold our hands, how to keep our heads up and not to look at our feet. Somehow I had thought we'd continue with the same steps. I had hoped we would, as I still hadn't nailed them.

"Great," Michael muttered under his breath as we took our positions. "I hope you don't suck so hard at this."

"At least I try," I say, and keep my spine straight.

"Barely," he scoffs.

I inhale. Picking a fight isn't going to help me learn. And I need to get along with Michael, as this class will go on until Christmas.

The music fills the room, and Irina gives us instructions. I listen to her voice as I move my feet. Michael is rigid in front of me. He avoids looking at me as he pushes me this way and that. I scurry on my feet, trying to find a balance between following the slow-slow-quick-quick, and just getting out of his way.

There is a brief pause where Irina again shows the steps and compliments the engaged couple. I think the guy would rather fight a dragon than disappoint his fiance. I'm sure they must have been practicing at home.

We pick it up again, and I'm trying, like really trying, to follow my partner's lead. I keep counting in my head, but he turns and moves in directions I'm not expecting, throwing me off.