“You can dance. Just tell your boyfriend no head snaps. And I'd like you to not lift him over your head or anything until middle of January or so. Let's give you a chance to heal up well this time, huh?” Sandy smiled at him. “So do you guys compete?”
Ed blinked. “What? God no.” But then he paused. He remembered that Laurie said there
were
same-sex competitions. “I mean, we haven't.”
“You should consider it.” She motioned to the water. “Let's do another set.”
When Ed finally got to Laurie's St. Paul studio that night, he was feeling good but kind of jumbled. He kept thinking of what Sandy had told him about the little muscles, and he was thinking about dancing, and he was oddly hung up on the idea of dancing in a competition with Laurie. It was probably a long shot, because Ed really wasn't that good...but Laurie was a good teacher. And if he trained, if he worked hard... Well, if he could get even half as good as Laurie, or got good enough people could see Laurie, he knew they would win. And that would kick
ass.
The thought of bending Laurie in a dip while people cheered and judges held up “10” signs like in the movies filled Ed's head, and that was why he was grinning when he rounded the corner to the front door of the building and ran into Laurie's teaching partner, Maggie.
Who absolutely did not grin back.
At first it didn't even register to Ed that it was odd to see Maggie there. It was a dance studio after all. But right about the time he realized she shouldn't be at
this
dance studio was also when he realized she was mad, so he ended up stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and staring at her in confusion.
She walked right up to him, her heels clicking on the concrete and her coat swinging, and she slapped him.
“You!” she shouted as Ed's hand came up to his stinging cheek. Her face was twisted up in fury, and she aimed a gloved finger at him. “It's all
your
fault!”
She looked like she might hit him again, so Ed took a few steps backward toward the curb as he held up his hands. “Hey, Maggie, I don't know what's going on, but—”
Her nostrils flared as she cut him off, her breath making bursts of cloud in the cold air. “First he dumped the classes on me because you were sick or hurt or whatever. Which was fine. I got why he had to do it. I didn't like it, but that I understood. But now, this
nonsense
about quitting our studio to work in this hellhole—this is
your
doing.” She stormed up to Ed and shoved hard at his chest, nearly pushing him into traffic. “He's throwing away his career! His
work
! He has talent, real talent, and he's just going to waste it on those stupid
hoodlums
!”
Ed managed to angle himself back off the street and cast a sidelong glance at the door as he aimed himself toward it. “Right. I'm going to go wait in the studio for Laurie.”
“Maggie? Ed?”
Laurie's voice cut across the cold air from farther down the sidewalk. Ed turned and saw him half a block away, his long coat drifting around him as he hurried forward. His cheeks were flushed red with cold; he'd walked some way to get here. A shopping bag hung from his hand and a cardboard coffee cup from a local gas station in the other, though it had a tea bag hanging off the side. His steps had hurried as he spied them, but as he approached and saw Maggie's face, he slowed, then stopped.
He looked chagrined. And guilty.
Maggie aimed her finger at him now. “You didn't even tell me! You let me find out from your
mother
!”
Ed waited for Laurie to shout back, but if anything, he shrank. “I know. I'm sorry.” Ed bristled and stepped toward him, but Laurie caught the movement, met his eyes, and shook his head. “It's okay, Ed. I need to talk to her. I should have talked to her before.” He held up the shopping bag in his hand. “Would you take this inside for me?”
Ed took the bag with a nod, hesitating only a moment before he fished in his pocket for his key to the studio and let himself inside. He set the bag down on the counter, but he didn't turn on the lights. Instead he positioned himself in the corner near the window, where the dark-shrouded figures on the street couldn't see him but where he could see them.
He tucked his cold fingers into the pockets of his jacket, leaned against the wall, and watched.
Laurie had walked three blocks and back again, and despite the hot tea in the mug in his hand, his fingers were threatening to fall off inside his gloves because of the cold. But the air temperature was nothing to the frigidity he saw on his teaching partner's face.
“I'm sorry,” he said to Maggie, and he meant it. “I'm sorry you had to find out secondhand. You deserve better than that.”
Maggie shook her head, still angry, but bewilderment threatened to take over. “I don't understand. Is it something I did? Something I said? I thought—” Her eyes were glassy for a second, and she blinked rapidly before wiping them with a gloved finger. “I thought you liked the way I managed things! You never said otherwise!”
“This isn't about your management, Maggie. This isn't about you at all.” He took a few careful steps toward her. “It's about me. I want a change. I want to do something different. So I am.”
“But you can't just leave me!” She wiped at her eyes again, her voice rising. “What about the spring recital? What about the specialized classes? You can't just leave us in the lurch!”
“I'm not, Maggie,” he said, trying to gentle her. “I'm not giving up all my classes, and I'm not bailing out on the recital.”
“But why do you want to leave at all?” Her expression went angry again as she pointed at the door Ed had gone through. “It's
him
. Isn't it. It's that big oaf you dance with. This is all his doing, I know it.”
“I'm leaving because it's time, Maggie. Where I'm going and what I'm doing don't figure into this discussion. I won't leave you in the lurch, despite what your dramatics are suggesting, but neither will I stand here and listen to you insult Ed and make ridiculous accusations about this being his fault.”
“But it is! It
is
his fault! You've been different since the first time you came home from the center. Even when you hated him, you were different.” Her rage had bubbled over, and now the tears flowed freely down her face, her tone going soft and wounded now. “I thought we were partners, Laurie. I thought we were
partners
.”
For a moment Laurie didn't know what to say. He was still angry, but the look on Maggie's face, the edges of her tone—well, he was stunned. Worst was that he realized that, like he hadn't until just now, she didn't realize how her words sounded. Didn't realize exactly what she meant by “partner.” No, she didn't want to date him. That wasn't it. But she wanted to own him. Until this second, she'd thought she had.
God, his mother was right. He was her trophy wife after all. He wished, desperately, he wasn't here with Maggie, watching his friend of so many years crack away and reveal...this.
“This is just a phase,” she said, recovering a little. “When the sex wears out, you'll come back.” She forced brightness.
“It's not a phase.” Laurie held out a hand. “Come on inside, Maggie. Come see the studio. Let me explain.”
Maggie pulled back as if she expected him to burn her. “No. No, I'm not going in there.” She started walking backward toward the parking lot. “You'll be back. I know you will. You'll be back.”
“Maggie,” Laurie called, but she just shook her head and turned away as she hurried down the sidewalk.
Laurie let out a sigh, lowered his hand, and headed for the door of the studio.
Ed hadn't turned on the light, so he did as he entered, and he took a moment to enjoy the scene in front of him. The floor was in place now, gleaming red-gold in its new polish. The walls were painted—all Perfect Peach—and the mirrors were in place, as well as the barre. A counter had been installed to the side as part of the reception area, and two benches flanked the space across by a coat rack Ed's father had hung.
The lights were secondhand, and they blinked a little. The walls were patched in places. It was small, and the ceiling was lower than Laurie liked. It was in no way the Eden Prairie studio.
But it was right for this place. He already had three local dancers lined up as teachers, and he had a small list of local students. Fewer of the more well-to-do students had signed up than he'd have liked. But that was okay.
It was all okay. Much more than okay.
Ed stepped out of the corner and came forward cautiously. “You all right?”
Laurie nodded, but he grimaced too. “I didn't tell her about this studio. I kept meaning to, but I knew it would go badly, so I put it off.” He sighed. “I should have told her.”
“Well, she knows now.” Ed ran his hand down Laurie's back, kneading softly. “Ready to go home?”
Laurie nodded, smiling.
Home
. To Ed's apartment. He hadn't officially moved in, but he might as well have. And he would stay there tonight and wake up with Ed for Christmas. His smile widened. “Just let me get my bag.” He grabbed the bag Ed had put on the counter and went back to Ed's side, accepting the arm he offered.
“What's in there?” Ed asked, curious.
“Your present,” Laurie replied. When Ed took the bag from him and peeked inside, Laurie let him, still grinning, though it was a wicked grin now.
Ed gave him an odd look. “Glitter and eyelash glue?”
Laurie winked at him. “Take me home, and I'll show you.”
They walked arm in arm to Ed's car. Since the studio was only a few blocks from Ed's apartment, and since Ed was right, it really wasn't an awful neighborhood, especially once you knew people, Laurie had taken to walking. But he was glad for the ride now, tired and cold as he was.
“You sure it's okay to go to my parents’ house tomorrow?” Ed asked as he fumbled with the key in the ignition. “Because we could head over your folks’ way too, if you want.”
“No, it's just fine the way we've arranged it,” Laurie replied, trying to be breezy. But he suspected Ed heard some of his pique and even hurt all the same. Thankfully he didn't comment on it.
The loft had gotten a little messy again, which was what usually happened when Laurie didn't stay over for a while. He noticed the dishes were undone, three days of newspapers were spread across the table, and a pile of dirty clothes sat next to the empty hamper.
But a glance at the weight equipment revealed the bright red therapy band tied to one of the posts, and a few of the small hand weights were out. Laurie smiled.
“You relax in the bedroom for a few minutes,” he told Ed. “I have to get a few things, take a shower, and get ready, and then I'll give you your present.”
Ed's eyebrows rose. He said nothing, but he looked intrigued as he headed back with the newest paper toward the bed. Laurie waited until he was well out of sight, then prepared the stereo, grabbed his things from the back of the broom closet where he'd hidden them, and hurried into the bathroom.
He made Ed stay in the bedroom until he'd arranged the furniture, lit the candles, and cued the music. He double-checked his makeup in the bathroom, too, and his hair, and he took a deep breath to center himself. Then he called out for Ed to come and sit on the couch, and then, when the music began, he came out into the room.
For Christmas, Laurie gave Ed a dance.
He danced to a soft, sweeping arrangement from a movie soundtrack, one he was almost certain Ed would never have heard of before so that the only thing Ed would associate the sound with was his dance. It was a bit of ballet, a bit of modern, a bit of Laurie. He put in all the beauty and skill and perfection he had been taught and which he had honed, but he put in something more too, edges and colors and accents that were, he knew, gifts from Ed. Bits of courage, bits of wonder, enthusiasm, hope. In his mind, this was not just a dance for Ed.
This dance, to him,
was
Ed.
He danced and danced, losing himself in the movement, in the music, in the moment. He forgot about Maggie, forgot about the fight with his mother, forgot about everything but this time, this space. Too soon, though, it was over. When it ended, Laurie held his final form for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest.
He'd burned the song to a single CD so that it would be silent once he finished, so that nothing would break the moment if he managed to create one. Now he wished he hadn't done that. The magic that had come during the song left him, and now he simply stood there, nervous, worried he'd looked ridiculous. He used to always know when he was done with a performance if he had nailed it or not. But this—this he didn't know. In his heart, in his soul, it was the best he had ever done. But he couldn't know. Couldn't be sure.
Was this because the dance was for Ed? Or because that was what he'd become now? Would this always happen if he danced from his soul?
He heard the murmur of the crowd in Toronto, saw their angry faces—
“Laurie.”
The word was a whisper, and it lifted his head. Ed was standing now, but he looked fragile, like someone had opened him up too.
Laurie smiled tentatively and tried to ease them back down to emotions a little more manageable. “I wore tights,” he pointed out.
“Just tights,” Ed corrected him. But his voice was thick, and his eyes were shiny. He took a few hesitant steps forward, but then he stopped. “Laurie...my God. I never—I didn't—” He swallowed hard. “
Shit
, Laur.”
“It was for you,” Laurie said. His voice felt so soft in his throat. “I think, from now on, it will always be for you.”
Ed looked at him stunned, almost stricken, as if Laurie were some angel descended, as if God himself had danced for him, and he was not worthy.
Laurie held out his arms. “Come here,” he whispered, and Ed came to him.
They made love on the floor, Ed kissing and touching Laurie as if he were the most precious, beautiful thing in the world, until Laurie began to clutch at his arms and whisper, “Make love to me, Ed,” in his ear. After that the tights began to tear, and then they were wrestling, clutching, clawing, and kissing—always, always kissing.