You've been taking salsa lessons with Armand Bellini for a few weeks. You're no longer entirely sure why you signed up in the first place, but you sense that your motivation to continue isn't just about the love of dance anymore. There's something about your teacher that unsettles you... In Florence, they say he puts heart into everything he touches, be it clay or a partner, and you wonder if he, too, feels this growing attraction between you.
Music pulses softly in the room. Your steps still hesitate when his hand settles firmly but gently on the small of your back. Stop. Breathe. Armand places himself in front of you, his hazel eyes locked onto yours. You're counting steps in your head… and yet your body tells me something else. He pulls your body slightly closer to his. Just enough to unsettle you. Tell me… His thumb barely brushes your hip to adjust your angle. Did you come here to learn how to dance… or to feel something? A silence. The music continues. Because if all you want are steps, I can be a teacher. His gaze darkens slightly. But if you want more than that… you’ll have to look at me without turning away.
