Dancing for the Lord The Academy - By Emily Goodman Page 0,34

fit if anyone so much as whispered the other girl’s name.

Mlle Kirby, at least, didn’t seem to be overly affected. She was standing at the front of the room just like always, her hands resting on her slender hips. “All right, dancers, pair off,” she commanded.

Danni started to fade back to the back of the room, where she had been for the last couple of weeks. She was happy there. It didn’t give her much of a chance to shine; but at least she was able to work out the steps on her own, without feeling as though she was fumbling her way through them.

A warm, masculine hand closed on her arm. “Dance with me. Please,” a hoarse male voice requested.

She jerked around, looking up into the young man’s desperate golden eyes.

“Please,” he whispered again.

Well, Danni wasn’t heartless; and she certainly couldn’t abandon anyone who seemed that upset. She nodded slightly, her heart in her throat.

“Thank you.” His shoulders slumped forward in sheer relief. “I wasn’t sure—“

Mlle Kirby clapped her hands, and the young man fell silent. “All right, dancers!” she commanded. “I want you to go over the pattern that we were practicing three weeks ago—and dance it like you mean it!”

Danni’s heart skipped a beat. The pattern they had danced three weeks ago—but she hadn’t been in this class! Usually, she would have just stepped off to the side and watched for a round or two; but this was the first time she’d been able to dance the entire class with a guy since she’d come out here. She didn’t want to blow it!

On the other hand, she couldn’t just fake it, either. She could pretend that she could handle whatever happened all she wanted to, but the fact of the matter was, she had to at least see the choreography once—or hear it—before she could perform it. She wasn’t with Michael, who could guide her through the steps of the dance without ever missing a beat. She was with a stranger—and one who probably wouldn’t care enough to do that for her, nonetheless.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. She couldn’t do this. There was no way she could memorize a series of steps that quickly.

“Rehearse on your own for a few minutes,” Mlle Kirby requested quietly.

Danni stepped back. It seemed a shame to miss the practice time; but what else was she supposed to do? Mlle Kirby wasn’t even going to be there to tell her what she needed to be doing!

“What’s wrong?” the guy whispered. That edge of desperation was back in his voice again.

“I don’t know the steps,” she whispered back. “I just started the class, remember?”

“I’ll talk you through it.” His hand settled at her waist.

“Are you sure?” She stared up into those golden eyes, stunned. She didn’t think she had ever heard anyone here make an offer like that one, not here at the school. She hadn’t even thought it was possible. People cared too much about themselves out here, and not nearly enough about anyone else—and it was well on its way to breaking her heart, but there wasn’t much she could do about it, either.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Come on. Start with the grand jeté into an arabesque…good.” He looked surprised. “You can land that en pointe?”

Danni held the position effortlessly. “Yes,” she informed him—as though that hadn’t been perfectly obvious.

He shook his head. “Most girls can’t—not that easy, anyway. K—my last partner usually made me catch her.”

She shrugged as he paraded around her, turning her on the point of her toe. It was a graceful movement, one that Danni loved simply because it always made her feel lighter than air.

“Now, come down…” The guy’s voice became background noise, his hands the primary method of guiding her through the dance. Danni responded instinctively. She’d been taught how to dance with a partner before; she knew how to respond to his leading in a way that was almost subconscious. Strange—she hadn’t thought she would be able to do this with anyone but Michael.

She was doing it with this guy, here and now.

Every once in awhile, her partner would release her, murmuring soft instructions. “Two pirouettes, come down with your right foot in front…rond de jame en l’air with your left foot…arabesque on your right leg….” Each direction was issued softly, but with exactly the right amount of information—never too much, to confuse her, or too little, to leave her ill-prepared for the next movement.

Within half an hour—throughout which Mlle Kirby remained conspicuously absent—Danni felt