Chapter 6

Clara entered the massive theatre area, breathing in the scent of performance and grandeur she loved so dearly. Until she spotted a figure onstage, dancing by himself. She smiled, arms folding. He was so concentrated on what he was doing he hadn't seen her yet, and she stood there for a while, just admiring him. He seemed so comfortable up there, so connected and emotionally tied with the dance and the stage. He was a real performer, an inducing one at that, someone you wouldn't dare to take your eyes off for one second. She could only imagine how captivated the audience could be in his sweltering presence. His whole body was so in line and perfect, like he was doing martial arts, not one step or movement out of place. His legs beheld striking passion and extension, his hips swaying to music resounding only in his ears. His arms were, as she now fully noticed, thin but strong, leaner rather than bulky. She decided she liked the look much more than the bulging muscles she usually saw on men. He was barefoot, feet brushing the stage, and wore flared black trousers that looked much better on him than she had ever seen them on anyone else. A firm black belt held them in place and he wore a white vest top with a chain round his neck that she hadn't seen previously. He also wore a red bandana round his forehead, just underneath his curls that erupted uncontrollably.

'Are you taking me back to the cowboy ages with that dance?' She asked, loud enough for him to hear. He smirked, beginning to reach toward the cloth and untie it.

'No, no, keep it. Believe it or not, the bandana suits you.' She laughed. His eyes followed the stage, considering for a moment before he spoke.

'Why don't you come up here?' He said, gazing at her suddenly. She once again felt like his stare was whittling her down to a little girl in awe of a deity. His posture was so that she was beginning to actually find the way he stood attractive. Not to mention that curly hair...but she had already mentioned it. That was the problem. She walked toward him, the lights bearing down on her, shining directly into her pupils. He smiled, taking her hand.

'Feels good, doesn't it?'

She nodded, taking everything in.

'Yeah. Always have been.'

He turned her toward him. 'I keep forgetting you're used to it. You don't act experienced at all, if you don't mind me saying.'

She snorted. 'Listen here cowboy, you can stop underestimating me like I'm a trainee and respect that I've got as much damn experience as you, with your perfect legs and perfect arms doing perfect ballroom dances!'

She cursed the way she had found him so attractive moments ago and how she'd forgotten how much he infuriated her.

He simply just chuckled, taking both of her wrists gently this time yet she didn't have the heart to let go.

'You're perfect.' He said.

Clara didn't know if she was hearing him correctly.

'Excuse me?'

'You're a perfect dancer. The best I've ever danced with.'

'Maybe that's because you've only danced with beginners?'

'Nope. Danced with all sorts. Beginners, professionals, even Donna before she screwed up her back. None of them compare to you. Even when they specialised in this type of dance. And you're especially amazing when you lose your temper.'

She shook her head. 'Why are you so confusing?' She pondered, only to realise she'd spoken aloud.

'Take my hand.'

She obliged, as his own slipped round her waist. Their movements flowed together, some improvised yet learned from their dance. Suddenly it wasn't about the light beaming down at her; it was just his glances, the way he spun her into him so close she could feel the best of his heart.

'Why are you here, after hours? Isn't it supposed to be locked up after a certain time?'

He spun her around. 'I could say the same for you.'

'I asked first.'

'I often practice outside hours. Mostly whatever chance I get.'

'Don't you have a bookshop to look after?'

'My friend looks after it mostly, to be completely frank. I just sleep in the building. Apart from that, I'm always here.'

'Why do you practice so much? Why do you stick to such a confined, ruled schedule?'

'Enough questions about me,' he told her, spinning her out again to what she knew was avoidance of eye contact, 'tell me why you're here.'

She did owe him that, at least. His holding back interested her a lot, although she decided to stifle her burning inquisition for the time being. She knew what it was like to get pestered.

'I kind of wanted to sneak up onto the stage, actually. Do a few ballet dances, see what it would be like to perform on this stage.'

'You said you did the nutcracker and swan lake.'

'Yeah, I did. It was amazing. Have you ever toured?'

'Yes, once. Mostly stayed here, though.' Something about the way his eyes dropped for a second made her realise that he probably had a long history of failures and disasters.

'Why the sad memory?' She decided to press further, know her partner a little better than just the weight of his hands.

'Met my first love on that very first dance tour. Never worked out. It was actually only a bit of a fling. I didn't really recognise that until the tour ended. I never spoke to her again. But it's not like I pined for her or anything, I was just...disappointed. You been let down like that in your life?'

'My boyfriend, few years ago now. I thought we had something, it was actually an affair. He was cheating on his girlfriend for me and I had no idea.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. He was an asshole, anyway.'

'I guess we've had our fair share of relationship fails.'

'I thought you would have more...experience.' She didn't want to sound rude but she was sure it was impossible for a man like him not to have caught any other attention in his lifetime, even now.

'Age sometimes doesn't mean experience, Clara. I've learned that the hard way. Been dancing here for over twenty years, just after Donna decided to take it over as a dance practice. She was a young girl in her twenties then, I was around mid thirties, can you believe it. Brown curly hair and everything.'

'Same eyebrows?'

He smiled, twirling her yet again, 'same eyebrows.'

They danced alone together for what seemed like ages, much more relaxed than their usual day routines. He even lifted her a couple of times, but she only focused on him. Neither of them took notice on anything outside the bubble they were in, enclosing them from reality while they drifted off into a world of their own. Clara hadn't felt so connected and tied to a partner as she did with John, and it felt like she was about to embark on an adventure every time she was with him, just by looking into his enchanting eyes. Clara admitted to herself, even his curls didn't compare to such beautiful, mesmeric eyes. She had always had a thing for them, always judged a man by his eyes, but John's were like nothing she'd ever seen. Light blue when she looked close enough, green in different lights and positions. She felt like she was falling, falling into them as he whirled her around the stage...

'Oi!'

A familiar voice broke them from their reverie and burst their bubble. They stood side by side, like children being caught doing something they shouldn't by their mother.

'You aren't supposed to be here!' Donna called to them, and John smiled guiltily.

'Sorry, Donna. Now on our way out.'

'You better be.'

She turned on her heel and walked out. Clara hadn't seen such a ferocious side to her personality, but John was laughing.

'She doesn't mean it, by the way,' he said, taking her hand and leading her off stage, 'well, she doesn't want us here in these hours, but she's only playing. She doesn't mean to be cross, she's really funny actually. The funniest person I've ever met. If you see her in an actual temper you'd know the difference.' He chuckled again like he was replaying a memory.

They made it out to the cool, night air that whipped John's hair crazily in the wind and the sky turning midnight blue. Street lamps lit up the path and the usual hustle and bustle of people going by made it even more peaceful.

'It's 11 o'clock, would you believe it?' He said, looking down at his watch.

'I think we definitely lost track of time.'

'Yeah.'

They stood there on the streets, John wrapping a long frock coat over his bare arms, neither of them saying their goodbyes. Clara eventually smiled, nudging his arm.

'Come on, Mr Disco, I'm hungry.'

He raised his eyebrows at her.

'Chips and coffee,' she continued, beginning to walk down the opposite side of the street.

'There's a McDonald's up here, I believe.'

He chuckled, following her.

'Chips and coffee it is, then.'