Chapter 16

He lead her by the hand, walking backwards toward the dressing rooms.

'And your foot will be okay?' She checked. She always did, just to be safe. It was less than three weeks left until the show, and only two days since John had come back to start dancing again. While enthusiastic, she had warned him to be careful for the first few days, yet John was hardly an easy person to overrule.

'Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, Clara. It's healed already.'

'We can stop-'

'Shuttity up up up.' He ordered, 'obviously we're doing the rhumba next. Very good job at the tango, by the way, excellent. I love your spin out from the slow parts, it's electric.'

'All down to you, choreographer.' She replied back.

'Hardly.' He snorted, 'now, put your rhumba dress on. This will be the hardest to perform on stage because of the spacing, but it will look fantastic despite. Oh, and it will be a lot brighter on the night as there will be hundreds of lights. But,' he said, grinning, 'of course, you already know everything about that.'

'Thank you.' She said modestly. Clara left him, changing into yet another dress to practice all their dances on stage. She began to smile as she replayed all of his praise in her head, loving the way he complimented her technique and general dancing ability.

Clara tried to zip it up from the back, yet couldn't reach behind her well enough and it was partially stuck. Sighing to herself, she backed out of the room toward John who was waiting there for her.

'Zip me up, will you?' She asked. He couldn't see her face and she couldn't see his, but he willingly obliged. His long fingers glided over her skin, almost caressing it slightly as he gently and very slowly pulled it to the top. The tension had built itself up to a mighty crescendo, his body standing so very close to hers. It was certainly a very sensual gesture and she quickly thanked him before disappearing once again to the changing room. Yet inside she was in turmoil, the ghost of his touch still lingering on her imprinted skin, tingling. It only made her heart thump faster, her mouth to become achingly dry. It was, however, a good way to get into the spirit of this particular dance, the one she had dreaded from the start but now anticipated. What was wrong with her?

Once dressed properly, she stepped back toward him, all anxieties and awkwardness forgotten as his eyes twinkled calmly at her.

'Let's go.'

They made way centre stage, starting in positions and both their faces becoming deadly serious by default. As soon as the music started playing it felt like her heart was in her mouth, as she started moving toward him.

Her hand placed itself on his chest, closer and closer until it created a definite sense of romance for the audience that were currently imaginary. Legs wrapped round legs, arms round arms, until both their bodies were entangled with one another in some seductive way as they danced round the stage.

She threw herself into the dance so much that suddenly she didn't mind the closeness, the intimacy. She revelled in it, in fact. As his hands took their position on her thighs she no longer wore the blush in her cheeks and smiled at how his hands lingered just a moment, like they were admiring the way she shook her hips. The all too familiar fall was less daunting as her trust was deeply placed now in him. Every embrace, so leisurely slow, every turn or caress lasted forever and she never wanted it to stop. He spun her round, coming to a stop as she grazed his cheek lovingly, and this time she was less sure she was acting purely in character.

The dance ended too soon for Clara's liking, coming to the eventual stop beside John, his arms wrapped round her and their faces inches apart. The music dissipated, leaving them in total silence, still locked in position, unmoving. And at that moment, neither had the intention of moving away. His eyes turned to their dreamy state as he stared, as if they were liquefying. His chest heaved, breathing rapidly as she did, and their heads eventually drew closer of their own accord. All at once, they're foreheads were touching, their eyes closing. Finally, their lips brushed each other's, melding, shaping, eventuating to kissing that took Clara's breath away. They slowly parted, gazing at each other in amazement. It only took a second's consideration for their mouths to meet once again, this time more forcefully, Clara fondling his curly hair. His arms enclosed round her waist and she pressed flush against him while he kissed back dominantly. Clara raised her eyebrow, knowing it was part of his nature. Together they stumbled backward, both of them laughing at their ironic lack of elegance. Her arms extended round his neck and her mind had completely melted. While their ages didn't agree their hearts beat as one and she could tell John had been acting on raw impulse. They had reached the far end of the stage wall, John turning her around and pinning her there. She hadn't known just how much she had craved the touch of his body against hers until that moment and cursed herself that she hadn't acted sooner. Although on the stage itself where they belonged, probably was the most accurate place their kiss could have happened.

Her brain was close to exploding as his tongue collided with hers. She stood by everything she had said before about John to that moment; a passion player, someone that directed powerful emotion at anything he did, and this was no exception. Lights seemed to shine from nowhere as they finally pulled apart and Clara couldn't stop smiling at his beautiful face, angelic to her, a statue of marble. It had hit her so suddenly from one dance to the next, a realisation that had struck her just as it had with him. It had been like seeing him finally for the first time, like he had suddenly becoming the centre of gravity itself that she was destined to orbit, like he had become everything she could ever want in one body, her past, her present, her future. She hadn't seen him as perfect as a whole; she knew he wasn't, and it came to her that his imperfections had attracted her even more. When everything came into perspective she guessed it was the epitome of any devotion; to be able to love their imperfections no matter what they were.

His arms were round her waist, leaning on her, smiling brighter than anything, making he heart flutter.

'Does this mean I get to dance sexier dances with you?' His voice was lower, huskier. Clara laughed at his proposal, squeezing his arms.

'On a condition. Could you possibly try and interact with everyone else? I've made good friends here, other friends, and you distant yourself from everyone.'

'I'm not good with friends.'

'You made friends with me pretty quickly.'

'Ah, but you are different. So very, very different.' He ended, kissing her collarbone tenderly. She giggled childishly, unable to repress anything more.

'But you haven't made proper friends since you've been here from like...forever. At least eat in the canteen with us instead of going out on your own every day.'

'Hm. Maybe.' He considered.

'You're not fazed.' She stated.

'Fazed by what?'

'Our age gap. I thought you'd be a bit on edge and cautious about it.'

'Clara,' he said, staring directly at her with the same chilling expression, as if it was slipping down her spine, 'when you see someone, you see someone. Nothing can be changed, no one can stop it. No gender or age or race or origin could ever come between something as pure as that feeling. Of love, I guess.' His eyes wandered off to a spot in the distance, until she brought him back by pulling herself closer to him.

'I see you.' She nodded, palm cupping his cheek, 'I know you. It feels like I've known you so long. And you're right about everything, I don't care either.'

'Time goes by so fast, yet so slow, like the whole universe is playing with your head.'

She nodded in understanding. His gaze was still unfocused and the urge was just too much to bear. Her hand turned his face toward her and she pressed her lips to his again.

They finally drew themselves away for each other, as John spotted figures coming into the theatre doors and his face grew pale. He raked his hand through his hair in distress as a woman with sharp features smiled sickeningly up at him. Clara immediately stood by his side, John unable to say another word. The wan stared up at John particularly, and behind his back she held two of his fingers for support, reminding him to remain calm. She could only guess who she was. It had to be Missy.