Defenseman No. 9 - Xavier Neal Page 0,25

by then, then fuck it. You can all go back to whatever shit you originally had planned. Sound fair?”

To my surprise, Poppy approves of the arrangement first, nose rapidly wiggling. “Okay. I’m in.”

“Me too,” Tatum says at the same time she places her hands firmly on her hips.

“Fuck it,” Mo surrenders on a bright smile. “Let’s see what you can do.”

I enthusiastically hop out of my seat and shift gears. Hitting random on one of my warmup playlists and insisting they just move whatever way feels natural is what allows me to properly assess them individually. Most people try too hard this way or that way when they feel someone is judging them, but if you can make them comfortable, make them feel as though this shit is just for a fun, an impromptu party moment with friends, they let their guards down. Express themselves freely. Knowing this and using it is one of my more unique dance strengths.

After all…asking a Freshman to spend the summer helping choreograph Can-Can for the fall musical isn’t normal.

Nor was the fun B-Boy spin I gave some of the more boring moves.

My unique approach not only has had me helping every show since but added to the reasons why they’re always sold out.

Even if the singers and actors are shit, people will still show up to watch a damn good dance performance.

Once we make it past a couple of songs – Kehlani to feel out their response to a female voice and Chris Brown for a male – I switch the playlist to one that only possesses the latter. Their ease continues to ooze, and I, nonchalantly, begin to make minor adjustments that will help build confidence in their stronger abilities. They hardly notice they’re being tailored in different directions. The majority of their attention is dedicated to laughing with me. With each other. At themselves. Eventually, I introduce the song as well as the simple steps to the chorus they’ll be doing. The three of them tense back up, like most people do at the change from free movement to directed; however, my reminder that even while being instructed they’re still free instantly alleviates it. We work through the basic steps a few times due to the song’s repetitive nature, but by the third time I’m starting it over from the beginning, they’re ready for me to hit record. I don’t wait for them to clam up again before encouraging them to stay loose.

That we’re all in this together.

That we’re just four people on the beach having fun.

Being amazing.

“Yummy” by Justin Bieber begins, and my pep talk isn’t forgotten.

We all begin the easy opening steps, each girl’s style managing to shine through in spite of our synced nature. They laugh and sing. Sing and giggle the words. Mo flashes the cocky attitude it’s not hard to see she possesses while Poppy plays with the innocent nature it’s obvious she has. Tatum gives the camera glimpses of the sassy nature that’s often overshadowed by her brainy side. The three flawlessly play off of one another’s actions along with the lyrics, and capturing it all on camera is a privilege I’m not taking for granted.

Right around the time the chorus appears again, the guys loudly return from their water adventures only to be stunned silent by the sight of their girlfriends dancing around like their own personal Pussy Cat Dolls.

Their arrival tempts two of them to draw back into themselves; however, my swift encouragement through my own moves and bright smile stops it from happening. They sway to the music. Match my moves. Add their proper personal touches when the appropriate moment arrives.

The guys creep closer post chorus, anxious for better views.

To touch them.

To be with them.

I wait for the right beat to nudge G into the video knowing he’ll get the dominoes falling.

He slips over to Mo whose movements are sharp. Precise. A pop and lock style structure from an obvious cheer background. Her flexibility is her favorite thing to showcase, which is done instantly by twisting her leg in different positions around her boyfriend the moment he joins her.

Stratton spontaneously slides into the situation causing my camera to glide that direction. His frame remains squatted so his face is more at crotch level. He pours all of his attention to watching Tatum’s hands caress her hips, her thighs, her knees in a tantalizing cycle. The lip biting they’re both executing informs us all just how sexually charged they’re both becoming.

Rutledge is last –