Chapter 5

Clara soon realised why no one else was John's partner. And why Donna had mysteriously given her his phone number.

It seemed like every day of the week she was practising with him, dancing until her feet were sore, early in the morning to late at night. And he wouldn't stop there. He called her on weekends too, telling her to get to the studio ASAP. She was beginning to grow tired of it all, and despite being one of the best teachers she ever had, he didn't half stick to a strict schedule. He followed it religiously, which meant she had to as well. This included long work hours, healthy dieting and more exercise than she ever had done before, even for a show. Clara lived for the moments she was asleep and revelled in it as much she could. But it was only a few minutes later she'd get a phone call.

She dragged herself out of bed, fatigue weighing her down and her eyes only half awake. It was a normal Monday morning and John had instructed her intake for breakfast as usual. She was really beginning to break from his rigorous rulings and stupid routines. Once dressed she made her way to the now familiar building, yawning as she stepped through to the atrium. Her legs mostly carried her to her destination, mind muddled and confused, still stuck in dream replay. John was already there doing some sort of pirouette, arms outstretched pushing his momentum all the way round so he never faltered. She wandered in, absent-mindedly yawning once again, and he stopped directly in front of her.

'Protein shake.' He handed her a bottle full of a brown, thick liquid. She made a noise of protestation in return and pulled a face.

'Come on, Clara. Keep your energy up and your health.'

'Why do I need to eat and drink so bloody healthy?' She replied on a sigh.

'Because you need to be in good condition to dance properly. They're ridiculously good for you.'

'Do you actually like them?' She asked, making another face as she stared reproachfully at the grotesque liquid.

'Yeah.'

'This is why you're matchstick thin,' She said, gesturing to his body, 'all you ever eat is fruit, veg, and protein shakes. Have you seriously never heard of McDonalds?'

'Course I have. They're nice, by all means, but they don't give me enough strength. This is serious Clara, you have to be in good shape, especially for the show.'

'I've always been in good shape, what are you trying to say? I'd rather be rounder than skinnier.'

He quirked an eyebrow, still proffering the unappealing shake to her. With a sigh she took it, washing down the taste as fast as she could.

'Now,' he commanded, 'let's practice that lift.'

She could feel his fingers grip her waist as he began to bend his knees, but she didn't have the energy. Clara was so weak she couldn't even jump properly, and with each try John was growing more irritated.

'What's wrong with you today? We need to get this done!'

That was enough to make her swell with anger and her shouts became uncontrollable.

'Because I'm so fucking tired!' She burst out, and he stood there, watching her face grow pink and her fists clench and unclench.

'Language.' He simply said. It infuriated her even further.

'Why do we have such a strict schedule, John? I get that you want to get everything done and perfect for the show but I am bloody exhausted. I've been eating like a damn rabbit and having to wake up early to tire myself out more. Is there anything you do besides dance?'

He shifted uncomfortably, scratching his head and avoiding her eye contact.

'Not...not really.'

'Well, I do. And you can start to respect it. You seem to think you're a superhuman that doesn't need sleep or the occasional binge, and I don't care if that's the case or not, but it is for me. So back off and relax.'

'Maybe you should first.'

Clara gave him a death glare but he didn't seem to interpret the meaning of it. Instead his hand rested comfortingly on her arm, and her heart decreased in its thumping and her anger dissipated.

'You have to stick to the routine, Clara, simple as that.'

'Asshole.'

'But I guess enforcing what you eat is a little extreme. But protein is still very good.'

She shook her head, trying not to laugh at his face, stern but a smile in his eyes. That was how she liked him.

'Now, back to that lift.' He said, running his hands together. She groaned slightly, but put the effort in anyways. He lifted her upside down and over his shoulder, Clara trying to concentrate on keeping her already impeccable balance and with a pull on her waist he gently carried her down.

'That was better. That's what we want.'

She nodded, taking his arm to resume their dancing.

She did a back step with her leg crossing in the back of the other leg, and tied it nicely with a spin out, until they were back in each other's arms and doing the sharp head snaps with their entwined hands out in front of them. She hardly exhaled breath as she danced, revelling in the heat between them and how close he was to her. They were literally forehead to forehead and John's character really helped develop her own. He was as he promised; fiery and passionate, a real dominating and fierce dancer that took the tension to another level.

'Extend your leg further,' he told her, as it swept the ground in a circular motion to stop and stand directly opposite him, their bodies a fraction away from touching. Her arms travelled slowly down from his head to carefully caress his shoulder as she leaned into him. His arms enclosed her tightly and Clara knew this was the sensual part of the dance she had been dreading at first. But the feeling of his light, downy curls was irresistible to her fingertips and the perfect excuse to start touching his hair.

'This whole movement is very, very slow and drawn out,' he said, trying to keep her from transitioning to the next move, 'it has to be driven with emotion, to really give it justice.'

She did it again, this time lingering a little longer at his hair and head, leaning slightly toward his shoulder as her hands came to rest there.

'That's perfect. Right, do the figure of eight, and carousel...that's it.'

This time she was behind him, everything still so prolonged as if they were in slow motion. Her arm extended round his shoulder, John changed the weight from his leg to the other so her own leg could wrap round his waist. Her arms encircled her neck, and he looked at her with that same passion in much calmer, romantic tones. She tilted her head so their foreheads were nearly touching again. Being in that position created a burning sensation which she couldn't ignore. Her foot pointed and leg rested just below his thigh. It was so intimate she hardly moved until he instructed her.

'Don't forget to tuck your foot behind your other.'

As she unwrapped herself from him her hooked leg circled back round and stayed there, while John proffered his hand and from one moment to the next she was being spun out like lightning, creating the effect of suspension from the transition from slow to fast. The movements exhilarated her, feet engaging once again in the dance as John lead her round the room like a tornado.

'That transition, from the very slow and calm movements to fast and upbeat again has to be perfect. It has to create a surprising jump for the audience, one that isn't expected. You should spin out like fire, yes? Control your action as I spin you.'

She nodded, thoughts only touching the surface of her mind as they came to the much awaited close of their dance. She jumped into his arms, him cradling her and spinning around, making her feel dizzy. When he put her down he immediately launched her backward, finishing the sequence with heads inches apart. His whole body was parallel to his, with her right leg between and hooked round his thigh once again. Clara could feel his eyes search her face for a moment and finally let her back up.

'That was very good.' He told her sincerely, his hand still placed at the small of her back.

Clara smiled in return, his mouth twitching into something similar. And then he grabbed his bag, giving her a wider grin and he turned away from her, walking out the door. He was a different person when she danced with him; not the rude, arrogant man she had seen this morning and all others. Hopefully he'd relent on his tight schedule but she couldn't be wholly sure. He was still so irrevocably unpredictable.