Dream Chaser by Angie Stanton

do or say, with my arms wrapped around myself I gazed at the curtains, the stage floor, the piano. Anything I could look at except him.
    “I don’t see any dancing!” Tyson called from the auditorium seats where he chatted with Miss Ginny. “Five minutes, then I want to see what you can do.”
    “Got it,” Eli said in a resigned voice.
    Geez, I wanted to walk away right now. Remember, Willow, you need this to get Jilly off your back!
    He turned to me, his chin set and eyes steely. “Let’s go.” We moved stage left, and he walked me through the steps. “ One, two, touch, turn, step, step, leap .” It didn’t take long until I felt the rhythm of the moves. They were tricky, but Eli was an excellent teacher as we marked through the steps again and again. But he was careful not to get too close, or god forbid , accidentally brush against me. Working alongside him felt surreal as we tried to ignore our awkward separation.
    “You guys ready?” Tyson asked.
    “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I answered.
    Eli walked away to give me center stage.
    “Eli, stay there and do it with her,” Tyson said.
    He sighed, nodded and took his place a couple feet to my right. The music came on and in unison we performed the thirty-second sequence Eli taught me moments before. The loud pounding energy of the music made the moves easier, more fluid and meaningful.
      “Not bad,” Tyson said. “You’re a quick study. I know you just learned this, but let’s have you do it a couple more times so you can really get into it. I need to see your heart and soul, not just the steps.”
    Each time we moved through the steps, Eli and I became more in sync. Yet each time we moved through the steps, it became more obvious how out of sync our lives truly were. He ignored me as if he were dancing alone, but still kept his moves perfectly in time with mine.
    His cold shoulder made it easy for me to focus on the routine. I completed each turn with fluid grace, hit each step with precision timing and pushed my physical and emotional limit to the edge.
    Tyson Scott studied us closely, his arms crossed, with one hand rubbing the dark stubble on his chin. We waited, heaving from the exertion of the full-out dance, for his next direction.
    “Miss Ginny tells me the two of you danced together competitively.”
    I nodded and glanced sideways at Eli for a split second. We danced together for years. Our numbers were some of my best memories.
    “Did you do any lifts?”
    “Yeah, some,” Eli answered, his body angled away from me.
    “I’d like to see a few.”
    “We haven’t danced together for years. I don’t know if I remember,” I said. God, did he really expect us to touch each other? Hadn’t Miss Ginny told him we weren’t exactly friends anymore?
    “Of course you remember,” Miss Ginny interjected.
    I looked to Eli for support. He didn’t even want to look at me, so surely getting close enough to do a lift was out of the question.
    “I remember. I can do them,” Eli said in icy challenge. “But obviously she doesn’t, so I’ll pass.”
    So this was how it was going to be. Fine .
    “I just want to see what you can do together. Nothing fancy. I realize I’m throwing Willow into the fire here, but the show is heavy in partner work with a lot of lifts and tricks.”
    Eli crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. “Seriously, if she screws this up, I’m toast!”
    Good, he didn’t want to do it either. For once we were on the same side.
    “Eli, do you have a problem executing a lift with Willow?” Tyson asked. “Is there something I need to know?”
    “Nope. Hey, it’s your show, man.”

    “Great. So show me what you can do. I’d like to see a lift into first arabesque.”
    Eli stepped closer. “Let’s get this over with.” His cold dark eyes bore into me.
    “Whoa! Could you slow down a sec?” I said under my breath, stalling. “Are you sure you can even lift me anymore?”
    I really needed a second to figure out