It had been bad enough, watching her dance. The insults weren't enough to inure Rachel against the undeniable magnetism of her dance instructor. It wasn't lost on her that she'd been singled out, and if she was honest with herself, she liked the attention, scathing though it was. But now, dancing for her, specifically to show that she, Rachel Barbara Berry, could be sexy? It had gone from bad to worse. The molten heat of Miss July's gaze made Rachel's knees feel slightly wobbly, which would never do, how was she supposed to pull off this routine? Brody's hands wrapped around her waist, sure, and strong, and she felt herself being lifted up. Miss July's eyes followed her, and Rachel arched her back, sliding her hands over her ribs in what she hoped was a provocative move. If the glint in her instructor's eye was anything to go by, she was doing okay, at least. Brody lowered her onto the table, and slid himself beneath in a fluid movement. Rachel tried not to blush as she angled her hips towards the table, knowing Brody was mirroring the movement, though she couldn't see him. She could see Miss July, and the way her slender hand moved restlessly on the head of that cane. It was distracting, in a way that Rachel didn't quite understand. She blinked, and stared at the water cooler just to the right of Miss July. And miraculously, she made it through the dance. As she held her position on the table for a moment, she dared a glance at Miss July. The heat from those green eyes made Rachel feel a little like she might be on fire.
Miss July stood, and slowly approached. Her expression was indecipherable, and her laser focused gaze remained on Rachel. Rachel, for her part, tried to stay positive. She took Brody's proffered hand, and jumped down from her tabletop perch.
"So, Miss July, what do you think? Am I ready to dance the tango?"
"So you can memorize a dance routine. So what?" Came the scathing retort, as the blond woman stepped well into Rachel's space.
"Rachel was incredible!" Brody's voice was warm, but it chilled Rachel, because in that second, she realized it wasn't his approval she was seeking. In fact, she wasn't sure she was seeking approval at all.
"You were great. She was okay." Miss July flicked a glance at Brody, before focusing all of that terrible intensity back on Rachel. "And that song? Who's idea was that? It was garbage. Look. Marie Von Trapp. Willie Loman. Shrek. Those roles are acceptable for your sex appeal." A smirk crossed her lips.
Rachel could feel the heat flooding her face. The sound of static filled her ears. She balled her sweat slicked hands into fists, digging her nails in. She bit her lip. But she couldn't hold the outburst in.
"You're just jealous of me. Of ALL of us, because we have our whole careers ahead of us, and yours ended before it even started. We're the future, and you're just some YouTube joke!"
Miss July lost her intensity for just a moment. For just a brief, tiny second, she looked vulnerable, and then, quick as a blink, it was gone again, and her face contorted in anger.
"You're done." Her voice was low, deadly. "Get out of my class."
Rachel stood frozen, horrified by her own words, knowing she'd ruined any chance of learning from the best. She couldn't stop staring at Miss July's eyes, though. That small moment had ensnared her.
"OUT!" Miss July's voice was thick with rage. Rachel turned, and left. She stood in the hall outside the classroom, and let her head drop heavily against the wall. What had she done? How had she lost control like that? Like Miss July had. She closed her eyes, and tried to think of what Finn might say, what Quinn might say, but the only thought she could conjure was the hurt that glinted in Miss July's eyes, before the anger returned full force. It seemed her idol had feet of clay, after all, and was capable of human emotion. Rachel felt sick at her stomach for being the cause of that hurt. She carried spiders down all 10 flights of steps of their new loft, to let them out, for pete's sake! Hurting people wasn't her forte. Sighing, she turned, and headed for the dressing room. She'd have to figure out an apology, and she was pretty sure it wouldn't go over well if she was still dressed like a Wal-green's underwear model.
***Later That Day***
Rachel pushed open the heavy wooden door to the dance studio. Miss July was alone, practicing in front of the standing mirror. Rachel watched for a moment, distracted by the easy roll of her teacher's hips, the effortlessness of her sexiness wasn't unnoticed.
"I'm working." Miss July's calm voice drew Rachel's attention.
"I know. I just wanted to apologize. Everything I said to you was completely wrong, and, and out of line. I felt like you were picking on me for no reason, and I…"
"Stop. Talking." Miss July straightened out of a stretch in exasperation. "Look. You lost it, and you lashed out. Same as I did 10 years ago. Except all it took for you to lose it, was a little honest feedback in a—hello—dance class. And what if somebody had taped your little outburst? Put it on the internet for all to see? You'd be a joke." She laid down, pulling her knee to her chest. "You'd be the crazy actress, and why would anyone want to work with you?"
"Because you were good!" Rachel blurted out.
"I was great." She turned on her side, and stretched her leg above her head, gesturing for Rachel to come closer. "But I wasn't ready for the pressure. Believe me, it's a whole lot worse out there, than it is in here." She tapped on her calf, and Rachel swallowed hard, before placing one hand gently on her thigh, and one on her calf, pushing her leg into a deeper stretch. Rachel could feel her heart speed up a little bit as the taut muscles flexed beneath her palms.
Miss July placed a hand on Rachel's, taking the stretch even further, and Rachel hoped that the hitch in her breath wasn't too obvious, the jolt from that small contact racing down her spine like electricity. These were the kinds of feelings she'd expected to have her first time with Finn, but…
Miss July shifted, sitting up and splaying her legs out to either side, leaning forward, and laying her chin on her steepled hands.
"That's why I pick on my students. To get them ready. You only get one shot." Her eyes met Rachel's in the mirror, the ferocious intensity back with a vengeance. "It's why, if I had my choice, you'd be out of my class." She gestured to her back, and Rachel moved to deepen the stretch, the heat of Miss July's skin searing her hands. "Unfortunately for me, the school says you get a warning. So." She pulled her legs beneath her, and moved into a toe-touch stance, causing Rachel to ponder the merits of hyperventilation as she realized her proximity to all sorts of bits that she REALLY shouldn't be thinking about on her dance teacher. She bit her lip, and moved to stand as well.
"What does this…" Rachel trailed off as Miss July took her customary spot in her personal space, close enough that Rachel could see the flecks of color in her eyes, the tiny droplets of sweat at her hairline.
"This means that you're on probation. And dance belt duty. Hand washed, every one, Schwimmer."
Rachel felt a throb at the antagonism, and bit her lip harder. "Yes, Miss July. Thank you."
"Oh, and Schwimmer? Not a bad dance, earlier. You've still got a TON of work to do. I mean, a TON. More than I can do in just 1 class a week. You want to prove you're dedicated, come to the studio this Friday, at 6. I tutor." She gave her classic smirk. "Now get. And don't forget the hamper on your way out."
