"It's legs first, then body, then arms. And on the recovery, it's the same thing but in reverse. Arms, then body, then legs."

Arthur was sitting on the sliding seat of his rowing machine, teaching me how to row and demonstrating at the same time. Apparently my first instincts about how to row were completely wrong. I had the tendency to pull with my arms and legs at the same time, but it turned out that I was supposed to decompose each movement. When taking a stroke, meaning pulling on the oar while it's in the water, one should push on their legs first, then lean their upper body back, and then pull with their arms. And on the recovery, which means the slide back to the front, one has to do the same thing in reverse order. Or so Arthur was saying.

"You see," he explained, "a lot of people think that rowing is more arms than anything. But the fact is, it's a legs sport. Well, it's an all-body sport, but it's mostly legs."

I could listen to him talk about rowing for ages. Not that I was super interested in it, but he seemed very passionate about it and it was entertaining to see his eyes light up when I put some effort into understanding his hobby.

"Come on, give it another try!"

He stepped off the machine and I took his seat. I strapped my feet on the footplates, seized the handle, and started rowing. As per his advice, I exaggerated the decomposition of the movement, feeling very stupid in the process.

"You're doing so well!" He encouraged me. "Keep decomposing, we'll focus on making it more fluid once you've gotten the knack of it. Try to keep the handle at a constant height. You're making circles with your arms, but you should always keep the handle parallel to the water, I mean the floor. No up and down movements."

He made me row like that for more than half an hour, stopping me regularly to correct my form along the way. It was exhausting but, according to him, I had made significant progress between my first stroke and my last stroke. This was satisfying. I'm not sure I would ever do as much erg as he did for fun, but I could understand the addictiveness of it. The regular rhythm was soothing. I could easily imagine putting on some headphones, locking my eyes on the ocean view, and losing myself in the exercise.

"All right, I'm done!" I exclaimed while letting go of the handle, which loudly slammed into the machine when it sprung back.

Arthur frowned at me. His erg was his precious baby. I ignored him. Surely there were tons of exhausted rowers who let the handle slam back, the machine would survive.

"I need a shower, do you want to join me?"

"Abril..." Arthur chastised me, which in turn made me laugh.

"Hey, it doesn't hurt to shoot my shot." I shrugged.

I left while Arthur hopped back on the erg. He hadn't had a chance to get his session done since he had preferred teaching me how to row instead.

When I opened the tee-shirt drawer of the guest bedroom after my shower, I smiled. Instead of only plain white tees in all sizes, there were now shirts in a variety of shapes and colors. I checked the sizes; all the colorful tops were in my size.

How adorable was that?

I put on a pink shirt that matched my hair over some leggings and I headed to the main room.

I jumped in surprise when I saw someone standing in Arthur's living room. Someone who wasn't Arthur. It was a woman. A gorgeous woman, might I add. She was tall and carried her thin body like a ballet dancer. Her chin was slightly tilted up, accentuating her long neck. Her hair was long, strawberry blond, and arranged in a perfect Hollywood blowout. She was wearing a navy blue bodycon dress that reached just below her knees and nude stilettos. She transpired grace, elegance, and money. And bitchiness. I could just tell that this woman was going to be a bitch. Who was she?

"Hi," I decided to introduce myself. "My name is Abril, and you are?"

I extended my hand to her but she didn't shake it. Instead, she eyed me up and down with a look of disdain, and dare I say disgust. She would have made the same face upon seeing a cockroach, I'm sure.

What did I just say? Bitch.

"I'm Elizabeth. Are you the new maid?"

I snorted. Her disgusted look intensified.

"Just because I have a Spanish name and a slight accent you assume I'm a maid?" I challenged her.

She did not intimidate me. If anything, I had been feeling soft for the past few weeks, and the opportunity for a good fight, whether verbal or physical, was welcome.

She did not seem discountenanced either.

"Aren't you?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, her arms crossed on her chest.

I shook my head in disbelief.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Just get Arthur for me, will you?"

Was she an ex-girlfriend? She looked like she could be his type. They both had this 'I'm looking down on the rest of the world' aura.

"I'm afraid I must ask again. What do you want?"

"Oh, you useless employee, I'll get him myself."

She walked towards the stairs that led to the gym, where Arthur still was. I blocked her before she could climb the first step.

"You have got to be kidding me!" She groaned. "What are you? A guard dog?"

At this point, I could very well have been Arthur's personal bouncer. I had made it my life mission to guard the house against this Elizabeth woman. For what reason, I'm not sure.

"I'm not going to let a stranger go any farther into this house. Either explain yourself or leave."

"A stranger? Me? Do you even know who you're tal—"

"What is going on?" Arthur said from the mezzanine, looking down on us. "Elizabeth? What are you doing here?"

So he knew her. Well, upon reflection, the likelihood of her being a total stranger was very slim, if not non-existent. She had to know the code of the outside gate to be able to get inside the house. I didn't know it. Therefore, she was on closer terms with him than I was.

"Thank God you're here, Arthur! Your stupid maid would not let me see you."

Stupid, huh? I'll show you stupid, you dumb bitch!

"Oh, Abril is not my maid," he said while coming down the stairs.

Abril is not my maid.

Abril is not my maid!

Really, Arthur? Was one disrespectful woman all it took for us to go back to square one? Were you really not going to defend me after she'd called me stupid?

"Whatever," Elizabeth replied. "I need to talk to you. Now."

Surely Arthur would have something to say about being talked to in such a bossy manner.

"Sure, let's go sit down. Is everything all right?"

"No, everything is not all right. I wouldn't come to see you if it were, would I?"

"Right. Abril, can you give us a minute? This conversation is private."

What did I hate the most? Arthur's lack of support, or the victorious smile Elizabeth was sporting? I wanted to hit them both very, very badly.

I took the high road and left the room without a word and retreated to the guest bedroom, where I had left my stuff. I saw my open bag and my sweaty gym clothes on the floor and I made an instant decision: I was leaving. And too bad if the plan was for me to sleep over. I was not staying one more minute in a house with a man who could not even grow a spine for one second and tell whoever the fuck Elizabeth was that she could not just call me stupid. I didn't need him to defend me, but I sure didn't need him to just nod when I was being insulted in front of him.

I stuffed my clothes in my bag and darted out of the bedroom.

"Abril, what are you doing?" Arthur asked as I beelined for the front door.

I did not reply and made my way out, taking extra precaution not to slam the door behind me. That would have been too petty, and I didn't want to give bloody Elizabeth the satisfaction of being petty over her.

"Abril!" Arthur yelled after me as I reached the gate. "Wait, where are you going?"

He ran in my direction and reached me before I managed to figure out how to open the gate from the inside. Stupid high-security mansion! I grabbed the bars of the gate and started shaking it, hoping it would somehow magically open.

Arthur tentatively grabbed my wrist to get me to calm down but I shoved him off.

"Abril, please! What's wrong?"

"If you have to ask, then it's even worse than I imagined."

"I can guess, but I don't want to assume. Elizabeth is just my sister, Abril, there's nothing to be jealous of."

Sister, huh? That explained the similar look they had, as if somebody had shoved a stick up each of their asses. Victor Dullac's pretentious seed was strong, so it seemed.

But wait, jealousy? Is that really what he thought this was about? Why would I be jealous? That was the beauty of the no-strings-attached lifestyle, there was no room for such a strong emotion.

"I could tell you how wrong you are to think this has anything to do with jealousy, but honestly this would be a waste of time and energy. Just let me out."

"No. Let's talk this through, jealousy is not something to be ashamed of. God knows I am jealous of many of the men you spend time with."

"For fuck's sake, Arthur! I am not jealous, okay? How could I be? I'd have to care about you to be jealous. What are you to me? We didn't kiss, let alone have sex, and you're not even my friend!

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't," he said in an angry, slightly threatening tone.

Without warning, without asking for my permission, without taking three deep breaths to compose himself, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me in for a tight hug. I tried to get out, but his arms were stronger than they looked. I was caged between his chest and his biceps.

"Give me a couple minutes to get rid of her and we can talk about it."

"I just want to go home."

"Please don't," he pleaded, desperation in his voice. It hurt to see him like that, but it had hurt more to see him let his sister call me stupid. "Don't walk away when we've just started moving forward. I don't even know what I did wrong! Give me a chance to make it right. Please, Abril."

And because even my heart wasn't totally made of stone, I sighed and caved a little.

"Not tonight," I conceded. His eyes lit up – this was not a firm 'no', just a 'later'. "I don't want to have this conversation right now. We can have it later."

"Tomorrow?" He asked, hopeful.

I sighed. By "later" I'd meant a week or so, to give me time to process everything and figure out how I felt about it.

"I don't want to leave it up in the air," he continued after hearing my disagreement, "We need to talk this through as soon as possible."

"Whatever," I half-heartedly agreed.

"I'll come to your place tomorrow. Any time preference?"

"I am not working all day and I haven't made any plans," which, by the way, was a bit sad. Who was in their mid-twenties and didn't have plans on a Saturday night? "Just come whenever. Can you let me out, now?"

He took out his keys from his pocket and clicked on the remote. The gate opened and I finally extracted myself from Arthur's arms. He held me back long enough to plant a kiss on my forehead.

"I'll call you a cab," he said.

"Don't bother, I can get an Uber."

"Don't be ridiculous, Abril. I should be driving you home but I can't leave my sister alone, she's got something going on. Let me call you a cab."

"No, you don't be ridiculous. I am perfectly capable of making my way home on my own. I don't need your help. Goodnight, Arthur."

His face fell.

"Goodnight, Abril. I'll see you tomorrow."

I didn't look back as I started walking down the hill while requesting my Uber.

* * *

"You look awfully formal," I said when I opened my apartment door on Arthur wearing a nicely fitting tux.

"Erm... yes, I have a thing tonight, and I wasn't sure how long our conversation was going to take, so I preferred to be ready just in case."

"A thing, huh?" I asked. I stepped aside and let him in; we both took a seat on my couch.

It's not like he owed me any explanation about his whereabouts, but I felt like any event that required people to wear a tux was the kind of event significant enough to be mentioned in a conversation.

"Yes. I have a fundraising gala tonight. I was planning to ask you to come with me yesterday, but then—"

"But then you decided I was not worth showing in public," I cut him off.

He looked truly surprised.

"Where is that even coming from? I would love for you to come with me, those things are dreadful and I could use the company, I just assumed that you would be too angry to accept so I didn't bother."

I scoffed.

"I don't understand," he continued, "do you want to come? I'll take you in the blink of an eye, I thought you hated those things."

Did I want to go? Not really. Was I upset he had not asked me to come with him? Yes. How does one convey such a sentiment without sounding like a total lunatic?

"Whatever," I replied like a stupid teenager.

He giggled.

"Come on, work with me, Abril. What do you want?"

"I don't know."

"All right. We'll circle back to that later. What's that about me not wanting to show you in public?"

"I don't know, you tell me." I crossed my arms on my chest.

"Abril..." He sighed. "I'm really trying, here. Is there anything you'd like to say? Anything at all?"

"'Abril is not my maid'," I quoted.

"What?"

"'Abril is not my maid'," I repeated. "That's what you told your sister."

"And? Is that not true?"

Was he truly that clueless?

"She referred to me as your stupid maid, and all you replied was that I am not your maid. Do you really not see the problem?" My tone started to rise.

I almost heard the click in Arthur's brain as he put the pieces of the puzzle together. To his credit, his face crumbled when the realization hit him. He looked truly heartbroken.

"Abril, I'm so sorry," he said. "I could try to give you excuses, but truly there's nothing that could excuse what I said."

"And it's not just that you didn't defend me when she insulted me. You didn't introduce me. I'm not your maid, but what am I? You didn't say. And then you just dismissed me so you could talk to her."

"Abril... I'm so terribly sorry. I—I was distracted by my sister's presence, we don't get along well and I wanted her out as soon as possible. My mind was on a single track, I didn't pay attention to anything else. I know it's not an excuse, but that's truly what happened."

"Whatever." I shrugged.

What was there to say? He had hurt me. It's not like he could take it back, and it's not like it was a misunderstanding that could be set right. For a few seconds, on those stairs, his brain had switched to autopilot, and his autopilot was to disregard me, disrespect me even. See, that's what happens when you date/almost-date people. The stupidest shit suddenly has the power to hurt you. That sucked.

"No, no, no! Do not close up on me!"

Arthur suddenly scooted on the couch towards me, closing the space between us. He wrapped his arms around my upper body and pushed me sideways, until I fell flat on my back on the cushion, his entire body resting on top of mine. My legs naturally parted for him and I did not protest as he settled between them. His head rested on my chest, on the flat part just above my breasts because that's Arthur we're talking about. He allowed one, then five, then ten minutes without talking, nor moving. My hand had automatically found his hair and started playing with it after two minutes of the uncomfortable silence. If he was bothered by it, he didn't show it. I could almost think that he was asleep, but I knew Arthur too well to even contemplate this possibility. I just knew his eyes were wide open and his brain working at full power.

"So, about me allegedly not wanting to show you in public," he eventually said, "you know that couldn't be further away from the truth, right? I'd happily introduce you to everyone as my girlfriend if you let me."

"Not this conversation again," I whined.

"No, no, I'm not restarting the same conversation. I'm just letting you know of the extent of my affection for you. I don't want you to ever think that I am ashamed of you and that I would ever not introduce you as a person I hold dear on purpose. What happened with Elizabeth was an unfortunate accident, and I'm sorry about that. But that really didn't mean anything."

"I know you didn't do it on purpose, but that's kind of worse, isn't it? What it means is that, when you're not consciously thinking, your default is to be dismissive of me."

"No, not at all. My default is to be dismissive of anything but the problem at hand. This was not personal. The issue was my sister being there, and I could not compute anything other than that. It could have been anyone standing there, they would have received the same treatment. It's not ideal, but please believe me when I say it's not targeted at you personally. I just—I really can't deal with Elizabeth, she's too spoiled for her own good."

"Why was she even at your place, then?"

"Apparently our parents had a big fight recently. She thinks they're going to get a divorce, so she wanted my help to try and fix that."

"That doesn't sound too bad." If you didn't know what I did, which is that Dullac Senior's marriage was doomed. I couldn't blame the girl, as unpleasant as she'd been, for trying to keep her parents together.

"Right. It could sound lovely coming from anybody else. Coming from my sister, it's pure selfishness. She's just worried about the repercussions on her life. You see, she uses my father's condo on the weekends, when he's back home. If my parents split up, he'll live there full-time and she won't be able to do that anymore."

"Surely she's also sad about her parents breaking up, no?"

I'm not sure why I had to urge to defend her from her brother's unflattering comments, but here we were.

"Did she look sad to you yesterday? I'm telling you, she couldn't care less about their relationship, it's all about the condo and keeping her ability to host parties there to impress her shallow friends."

"Jeez, do you even like anyone in your family?"

"Not really. I would probably die for them if I had to, but I don't like any of them. And I don't think they like me either. I'm too different."

"What do you mean?"

He craned his neck up to be able to look me in the eye, his chin digging into my sternum. He gave me his signature, incredulous raised eyebrow.

"You know what I mean. I am uptight, I have strong principles and very specific tastes and ways of doing things, I don't like physical touch, I can be socially challenged, all those things. I think I disappointed my parents. They expected me to be the school superstar, playing football, dating the cheerleader, and having a lot of friends. Instead, I was the lonely, skinny, weird kid. I ruined their lives, you see? They didn't get to do all the allegedly cool high school things because my mother was pregnant with me. They hoped to live those things through me vicariously, but that never happened. They resent me for that... And as for my sister, we've just never gotten along. We're too different."

"That's... a lot. I'm sorry for that."

I resumed playing with his hair, not knowing what else to say.

"What about your mom? Aren't you a mommy's boy?" I attempted to joke.

"Hardly. She brought me up decently, like most mothers do, but she has never been particularly nice or caring towards me. And she reached an all-time low in my esteem a few years ago, when she started cheating on my father."

So he knew...

I faked a gasp of surprise.

"Anyway, the bottom line is that this family is a joke, and the further away I am from them, the better I am."

"Why work for your father, then?"

"Do you know a lot of companies that gross as much as VDO's which would employ a twenty-two-year-old finance major fresh out of university with little to no professional experience? Plus, I happen to like what we do at VDO's, and I believe in our ethics and our values."

"Okay," I said, because there was not much more to say. If he was happy with his choices, who was I to try and convince him otherwise?

I grazed my fingertips up and down the skin of his neck, causing him to shudder and get goosebumps. He did not peep. The silence engulfed us again, except this time it was not awkward and charged, but peaceful, and prone to reflection. For the first time, I had a peek inside Arthur's mind. I already knew he was a tortured man, I had not realized to what extent. I had a sudden urge to wrap this man in my arms and never let go, hoping that this would hold him together. I had had my fair share of trauma in my life, but none of it had been caused by my parents. My parents were on the stricter side for sure, I had spent most of my teenage years doing stuff behind their backs, like having sex and getting piercings and tattoos, but they were loving. I had never doubted that my parents loved me. I could not imagine how it felt not to be able to take your parents' love for granted.

The pain I had felt when Arthur had dismissed me in front of his sister seemed ridiculous, now. I was not one to forgive easily, but how could I hold a grudge after what he had just shared with me? He was a broken man, just as I was a broken woman. Perhaps we actually were a good match, and perhaps it was time for me to take a leap of faith and let go, like he wanted me to.

I let my hands slither up towards its face, only to stop on his freshly shaved cheeks. I could smell a hint of alcohol from his aftershave, but mostly I could smell a mix of his moisturizer, his shower gel, his cologne, and his laundry detergent – his smell. My fingers on his temples, I started to rub him gently in what I knew was a soothing gesture. He sighed from the feeling, his lips parting slightly, his eyes half-closing.

When he reopened them, he looked at me intensely. Whatever he saw in my gaze, it gave him the confidence to make a move. He unwrapped his arms from around my body and hoisted himself up on his forearms until his face was right above mine, only a couple inches separating us. He removed my hands from his face, entwined our fingers instead, and rested our hands on either side of my head. He was claiming control of the situation, and I gladly let him. Whatever made him the most comfortable. His brownish-goldish eyes looked right back at mine, then at my lips, then back at my eyes and they stayed locked there. Slowly, but surely, he started to descend towards my lips. When less than an inch separated us, he closed his eyes, and so did I.

The unmistakable sound of a phone alarm went off, startling us both. To the point that Arthur almost fell off me. The moment was gone in one second, it was almost comical.

"Gosh darn it!" Arthur groaned between his teeth, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve his phone. "That's my alarm," he explained, "it means I need to get going soon."

He let go of my hand that was still in his and stood up and tried to smooth his clothes that had wrinkled while we were lying. I sat up and watched him, both sad and annoyed that we had gotten interrupted. Oh did I wish I was tasting those lips, now.

"Abril," Arthur pulled me out of my daydreaming, "I would love it if you came with me to the gala."

"I can't. I would need to shower, get dressed, put some makeup on, and do something to my hair. That would take at least an hour and you need to leave now."

"I can wait."

"But we'll be late."

"Then let's be late. I don't mind."

"You really do like me, don't you?"

"Did you actually doubt it?"

With a smile so large it hurt my cheeks, I darted to my bathroom to get ready. Forty-five minutes later, I was showered, my hair was up in a simple yet classy ponytail, I had enough makeup to look like I had made an effort, and I was fully clothed. I didn't own the kind of dresses people wear at galas, but I had a couple of long dresses that could work for such an occasion. Hopefully. The one I had was a tiered mint green tulle dress, long in the back but hitting right above my knees in the front. The bodice was fitted like a corset tulle straps fell off my shoulders. I had fallen in love with that piece when I had found it in a thrift shop and I had dreamed of having an occasion to wear it for ever since. I paired it with lavender heels and a lavender bag, as well as a white jacket to keep me warm for the road. I felt like a real-life Disney princess. For a broke woman, I sure had a lot of clothes, but they were all thrifted or from cheap shops. My only indulgences were the few nice pieces I had gotten from Eleanart's with my employee discount.

"What do you think?" I asked Arthur as I twirled around for his benefit, and for my enjoyment.

"It's erm... original. It suits you well."

That was Arthur's code for 'that's a terrible dress'. I felt all my joy turn into dust instantly. Our moment was indeed long gone.

"Should I change?" I offered.

"No need. We're already late, let's go."

Yup, definitely gone. No more 'I'll be late for you because you're worth waiting for.'

Upset, I didn't wait for him and darted out of my place and down the stairs.

"You need to lock your door," he called after me as I was already halfway through the first flight of stairs.

I grumbled, went back up and locked the damn door. Arthur offered me his arm to go down the stairs. I refused it.

"Everything all right?" He asked.

Of course, everything is not all right!

"I'm fine," I replied instead.

"Listen, I'm sorry about the... kiss. My alarm really went off at the worst possible moment."

"I said I'm fine!" I barked.

Maybe I was a tad too aggressive. But maybe he needed to embrace the fact that I didn't wear plain clothes. Why would he even want to be with me if something as stupid as a dress bent him so out of shape?

He did not comment further and we walked in silence to his car. The venue of the gala happened to be the Four Seasons where I had served for one night and managed to get into a fight with a fellow waitress. It would be either very fun or very awkward to see that same waitress again now that I was on the other side of the metaphorical curtain. I struggled to remember her name for a second. Brooke. Motherfucking Brooke. I'd keep an eye out for her. Not to mention Matthew, the cute pre-med student I had had sex with in the laundry closet.

Ironically, that gala was the first time Arthur had ever done something nice for me, even though he was still Ginger Dude to me and I was a pink-haired girl called Marian to him. Still, he had come to my rescue and defended me against Brooke, and afterwards against my manager. How funny was it that he had defended me against literal strangers but he could not do it against his sister?

"I didn't realize this would be at the Four Seasons," I commented as he pulled over in front of the entrance.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to mention that. Is that a problem? I can turn around."

"No, I'll be fine."

I'd be damned if I let somebody as insignificant as Brooke deter me from enjoying a night of luxury in a bougie hotel.

He got out of the car and so did I, not giving him time to open the door for me like I knew he wanted to. He gave his keys to the valet and offered me his arm again. This time, I took it. I was mad at him, but not mad enough to publicly humiliate him.

We entered the hotel and followed the signs. Even though we were late, there were still plenty of people just coming in. I left my jacket at the coat check and we entered the ballroom. It had been impressive the first time I had been there, but it was even better now that I was there as a guest. The settings were different from the previous time. Instead of a standing reception, the event was a sit-down dinner.

"Will you be okay on your own for a couple minutes?" Arthur asked. "I have to tell the organizer that they need to squeeze you in at my table."

"Won't that be a problem?"

"Not if they want me to donate my money to their cause."

I snorted at such a display of arrogance.

"I'll be fine, do what you have to do."

He left me and went God knows where to talk to the organizer, shaking a lot of hands on his way. In the meantime, I made my way to the bar section of the room. Like a sign from the universe, gorgeous Matthew was working the bar that night. I went straight to him, ignoring the other bartenders, as well as the pre-poured glasses of champagne.

"Would you be able to make me a cocktail, sir."

"Certainly ma'am, what would you like?"

He looked up at me and realized that I wasn't just any other guest.

"Hey! I know you. Abby, right?"

"Correct."

"I see you've made it to the other side. How's being a guest at a gala rather than an employee?"

"I've just arrived, but I can tell I'm going to like it. I'm already enjoying the open bar."

He laughed.

"Right, about that, what do you want?"

"Surprise me," I said with a wink.

He smirked at me and got started on mixing a variety of beverages into a metal shaker.

"How did you manage to get invited here?" He asked while he shook my cocktail. "Last time I checked, nobody who works here gets to be on the other side."

"A friend of mine invited me."

"A friend of yours, huh? Let me guess, is he a redhead?"

"He might be..."

"Did he ever get his jacket back? Tell him I'm sorry for tearing it," he sassed. "Actually, don't. I'm not sorry at all."

His comment made us both giggle and, as if on cue, Arthur materialized next to me.

"There you are," he commented, "I was wondering where you'd gone."

"Obviously I'm wherever the free drinks are."

"Obviously..." He laughed slightly while taking a glass of sparkling water from the counter.

Matthew poured my drink which had an interesting light green color in a martini glass and dropped a tiny purple umbrella in it.

"Here you go, beautiful." He handed me the drink. "I made it so it matches your outfit, tell me what you think. Sick dress, by the way. I've never seen anything like that around here, you'll definitely turn some heads around!"

That's what Arthur should have told me when he saw my dress.

"Thanks Matt." I took a sip out of the cocktail he had made. It was succulent, just as I expected. "This is delicious!"

Arthur cleared his throat.

"Abril," he said, "we should get to our table. The reception is almost over, they'll start serving dinner soon."

"Did they manage to squeeze me in?"

"Of course."

I turned to Matthew. "Well, it was great seeing you again, Matt. Maybe let me know when you're going out for a smoke and I'll come with you?"

"Sure thing, beautiful. Have a good night."

Arthur grunted quietly. Good. He should know that, if he wasn't ready to treat me like I deserved to be treated, there were people who would. I would never make anyone jealous on purpose, I didn't do stupid mind games, but if a lucky turn of events made Arthur jealous enough that he realized that he could do better, I wasn't going to be sad about it.

He ushered me to our table, where most of the guests had already taken a seat at. They were all middle-aged couples, mostly men high in the hierarchy of famous companies I didn't care to remember, and their unemployed wives. Very last century, if you're asking me.

The dinner dragged on to the point that it was torture. Each dish was followed by an annoyingly long speech recited by different iterations of the same template of a middle-aged straight white cis male. I took a smoke break just before dessert, unfortunately Matt was not in the smoking area.

When I came back, waiters were placing lemon tarts at everybody's table. If the speeches and the company were terrible, the food was great, I had to admit. And so was the wine, which I had already drunk too much of.

When the last claps of the evening resonated in the room, I wanted nothing more than to zoom out of that hotel and never come back again. I was bored to death and desperate to go home. Then the organizer of the evening took the mic and said the most interesting thing of the entire night: she invited the guests to participate in a surprise Danceathon, which would start in half an hour.

The rules were easy: get a partner, sign up, hold your partner, dance, never stop. For every minute spent dancing by each couple, the main sponsor of the event would donate a hundred dollars to the cause this fundraiser was for – I had not paid attention to what cause this event was defending, don't come at me. The last couple on the dance floor would have an extra ten grand donated in their name. There was a cap at one hour and a half, and any couple who were still dancing after that would also get ten grand donated.

I was thrilled by this concept. I didn't have any spare money to donate to the cause, but I could contribute with my dancing. This way I was doing a good deed while doing something I really love; two birds, one stone.

Enthusiastic murmurs filled the room and people in pairs were already making their way to the event organizer to register. I excitedly turned to Arthur to ask him to participate with me.

"Absolutely not," he replied categorically.

My mood dropped instantly.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't dance. And also, this is a ridiculous idea. I can just write a check myself, I don't need to dance to donate money."

"I think it's a great idea. It sounds fun."

"Clearly you and I have different versions of what is fun."

"Clearly," I snarked. "But if you don't do it for fun or for charity, do it for me. I really want to do it."

"I'm sorry, Abril, but I won't be participating in this nonsense."

"Can I do anything to make you change your mind?" I was desperate, at this point.

"I'm afraid you can't."

My enthusiasm died as fast as it had appeared. My shoulders dropped, I started to sulk. What was I even doing with this man if he couldn't give me a just few minutes of dancing? Surely I wasn't asking for much, was I? It's not like I would have made him stay until the end of the Danceathon, we would have danced for a few songs then gracefully excused ourselves.

"I'm really sorry, Abril." He tried to put his hand on my shoulder but I swatted it away and left the table. I went to the bar instead. If I couldn't dance, at least I could drink. Small consolation.

"Can you make me another one of your cocktails?" I asked Matthew.

"Sure. Still want a surprise?"

"Yes, please."

"Are you going to do the Danceathon?" He asked while working his miracles on my drink.

"Nope."

"I imagined you'd be the first one to sign up."

"I would, if only Arthur agreed to dance with me. But he doesn't dance, you see, so I don't either."

"I could dance with you," he offered.

"Shut the fuck up!" I exclaimed with much elegance. "Would you actually be allowed to? Given that you're staff and I'm not?"

"I can ask. If it's for charity, and even more so to help one of our esteemed guests, I can imagine that Kate would approve."

Kate was the manager of the catering staff. She had seemed nice and fair, until I'd gotten involved in a fight with another employee.

"If you can, then yes, I would really love to dance with you," I said.

"Here you go," he said as he placed a pink cocktail in front of me. "This one matches your hair. Let me go check with Kate. Wait for me here."

I did as I was told and waited for him by the bar, sipping on my cocktail. Matthew came back a few minutes later, bearing good news. I downed the end of my drink and almost ran to the registration point. We put both our names down and waited with the other couples who had signed up. There was a surprisingly large number of them. I expected most participants to react similarly to Arthur. In the meantime, employees were freeing a space big enough for all of us to dance while a crowd started to gather at the edges of the dancing space.

"Hang on a second," I instructed Matthew as I made my way back to Arthur.

Once I found him, I removed my shoes and handed them to him.

"Can you please keep an eye on them while I dance? I found someone to do the Danceathon with me."

He was shocked, but still took the shoes.

"You can't just do that here," he hissed. "Put your shoes back on."

"Oh, I can. Watch me."

Without another word, I went back to Matthew.

A few minutes later, we were invited to take place on the improvised dance floor, which was just an empty circle in the crowd. We were reminded of the rules one last time – no stopping, no letting go of your partner at any time – I put my hands on Matt's shoulders, he put his on my waist, and then the music started.

The songs that played were a nice selection of pretty much all genres, to accommodate for most people. When the ten-minute mark was announced, only a few couples had been eliminated. After half an hour, the number of us dancing had considerably reduced, but there was still a fair few of us in the competition.

I recognized the next song from its first note. This was a mildly famous Argentinian song my mom played on repeat at home, especially when we still lived in Argentina. I had danced many times to that song.

"Can you tango?" I asked my partner.

"I can manage, yeah," he replied.

That's all I needed. As soon as the short intro of the song was over, I engaged in a few basic steps of tango, which Matt had no issue following. So I cranked it up a notch. Very soon, all eyes were on us. Not only the spectators but also the couples dancing with us. We were not competitors anymore, we were performers.

Carried by the encouragement of the audience, our tango became more and more intricate and sensual, like a proper tango should be. A few whistles echoed in the room when Matt and I executed a very simple lift, and there were roars of applause when he dipped me backwards in a very sexy backbend, his hand holding one of my thighs firmly against his hip, for what was our final pose.

Some of the other contestants let go of each other just to applaud us, and consequently had to leave the dance floor. I scanned the crowd to see if Arthur was around, if maybe he had liked this beautiful dance I had just performed, but I did not find him.

Because this was a Danceathon, Matthew and I could not hold our pose for more than a couple seconds, for we had to be in constant motion. Thankfully the next song was a slow dance, so we just wrapped our arms around each other and gently swayed from side to side, catching our breath.

After this song, the other couples started to give up one by one. When we hit the one-hour mark, our last opponents threw the towel and we officially won. We did one last dance for the show, the DJ put another tango on and we danced on it like there was no tomorrow, and we bowed out. The audience was still applauding us for our performance when the event organizer came to us, followed by a photographer. She gave us a huge cardboard check of sixteen thousand and three hundred dollars – one hour and three minutes of dancing plus the winning prize – that we held in front of the camera. We took an assortment of pictures for publicity, and then it was all over. It felt cruelly ironic that I had just won sixteen grand but that money was not for me. I could have used that check, really.

I thanked Matthew from the bottom of my heart for dancing with me and I started looking for Arthur. He was not at our table anymore, but I found him leaning against the bar, a lime and soda in one hand and my shoes in the other.

"Thank you for keeping those for me," I said while taking my shoes from him and putting them back on. "Did you watch me? How was I? I had so much fun!"

"I did. Are you ready to go home?"

He was mad. Probably madder than I had ever seen him, including when we first met. Oh well, he could be mad all he wanted, I had done nothing wrong.

"Yes, I am."

"Let's go."

I grabbed my jacket from the cloakroom and we exited the premises. The valet promptly brought Arthur's car and we drove in deadly silence until we reached my place.

"Do you want to come upstairs and talk about it?" I proposed. "You're obviously upset."

"No, I'm fine."

If he wasn't willing to talk, I sure wasn't going to extort the information out of him. I had no energy left for that.

"Well, I guess this is goodnight, then."

"Why would you humiliate me like that?" He blurted out as I was getting out of his car.

There you go. I knew he was mad.

"I'm not discussing anything here," I said firmly. "If you want to talk, you can follow me upstairs."

"Fine."

He pulled his keys out of the ignition and followed me up to my apartment. Once there, I kicked off my heels and sat down heavily on my couch.

"Would you mind... Could you please wash your feet first? I'm very conscious that you've spent an hour barefoot in the ballroom and I can't focus knowing that."

I rolled my eyes but did it anyway. He had a point, to be fair, my feet were nasty.

Once I had washed all the dirt away, I put my slippers on and went back to Arthur. He was not sitting so I didn't sit either. This was going to be intense, I could feel it.

"All right, I'm all ears and my feet are squeaky clean. Lay it all on me."

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Dance with that man, even though you were my date."

"Because you didn't want to dance with me. I almost begged you but you said no, remember?"

"It was severely inappropriate of you to dance with somebody else anyway. And with a waiter, of all people! Have you thought about what the other guests might think? My date going off with one of the employees? And you took your shoes off, for heaven's sake! You—you can't just do that! This is not a... a frat party! And you made me look like a fool. You didn't just dance with that man, you flirted with each other all night, right in front of me. I'm seriously hurt, Abril."

I didn't know if it was better to scream or to laugh. I was legitimately contemplating both options.

"Okay. Okay, that's your point of view and I'm going to accept that." I chose a third option: communicating. "Now let's look at it from my side, shall we? Picture this, I agree to come with you to this function because you asked me to. I throw on an outfit in less than an hour, which is a very short timeframe for such an event, and you don't even bother to hide your disappointment when you see me."

"I did not—"

"Let me finish. So you make it clear that you don't like my dress, but I decide to ignore it. I know you, I do have peculiar tastes after all. We go to the event, and it turns out to be the most boring thing on Earth. To make things worse, you don't make any effort to entertain me. I've come here with you and for you, but you barely talk to me, or have drinks with me at the bar, or anything. It's just me, my boredom, and the bottle of wine. And when finally, there's something interesting that could potentially come out of this night, something that you know I'll love, you refuse to come dance with me. Don't you think I was hurt too? Don't you think I would have preferred to dance with you? But you wouldn't budge. So yeah, I gave up and went to the bar, not to find another partner but to get a drink, because that was the only fucking good thing there. And then Matthew offered to be my dance partner. I didn't ask him. I accepted the offer, and I regret nothing. That hour spent dancing was the only thing I enjoyed tonight."

Silence.

"I—I don't know what to say," he stuttered.

"Just say you're sorry and maybe we can try to move on."

"Absolutely not. I am sorry for making you feel bad, but we need to set things straight on your side too. Starting with that man, Matthew. You had intercourse with him, didn't you?"

"How's that relevant?"

"It is now that you are avoiding the question. Did you?"

"Yes."

"He's the one who ruined my jacket when I lent it to you after your fight, I assume?"

I slowly nodded. Okay, when he was putting things like that, it did sound terrible.

"I know we're not in a relationship and we're not supposed to get jealous, but how would you like it if I had left you alone to go dance with an ex? Especially that kind of dancing!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You had your hands all over each other's body. It was very suggestive, and mortifying to watch."

"It's tango! It's meant to be very sensual. It's art!"

"It doesn't matter. Everyone saw it, and I was on the sideline, forced to watch you almost make out with someone else, while holding your shoes. It was embarrassing, and deeply painful."

I get it. I swear I do. I would have hated it to see him dance that closely with anyone else. We don't refer to sex as the horizontal tango for no reason, it is a very suggestive dance. But it's not like I had gone to Matthew on purpose, it's not like this situation could not have been avoided if only Arthur had made a tiny bit of effort for me.

"Then you should have danced with me!" I cried out.

"I don't dance."

"Well, I do! And you couldn't sacrifice ten minutes of your time to make me happy. How am I supposed to feel about that?"

"Abril, listen—"

"No, you listen!" I cut him off. "I'm tired, okay? I am who I am, I won't change. You say you want me, but the way you act makes it obvious that what you want is a softer version of me that you've made up in your mind."

"Of course not! I want you as you are."

"Oh yeah? Then look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't have preferred that I wore a simple black dress to that gala."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with our problem. The truth is, you're so focused on how I humiliated you that you don't even realize that you humiliated me first. And it's not the first time, you did the same thing when we went to dinner with your friends from the company. I like bright colors and fluffy dresses, I don't do black and simple. It might not be to your liking but, if you ever want to be my partner, you need to hype me up anyway. From the second I stepped out of the bathroom, I could see on your face that you hated my looks. You don't have to like everything I wear, but you have to be okay being seen with me however I'm dressed. I don't want someone who is ashamed of me."

"I—I'm not ashamed of you."

"Don't lie to me, cariño."

He bowed his head in defeat. We had just reached a critical crossroad.

"I—I can work on it," he said, and it sounded like he meant it. "The truth is, I actually like your dress. It suits you well, and you look happy wearing it. And it's very you, everything in that dress screams 'you'. But you have to understand that, in my world, there is very little room for originality. I went to a private school where I had to wear a uniform, and then I studied finance in college. Half the lectures that I attended required that I wore a suit. And right after that, I got employed in my father's company, which also requires business attire. I've only known strict dress codes, and anything outside of those limits I've had all my life shakes me up. But I'm learning to be better. Please be patient with me."

I didn't know what to do with that. That was touching for sure, and he did sound like he was being heartfelt and honest. But was that enough? Would he ever accept me as I was? Would I ever accept him as he was? Once again, we were in the impasse we had found ourselves many times in the past few weeks. We were polar opposites, but like the poles of a magnet, we were unavoidably attracted to each other.

Arthur extended his arms towards me to pull me into a hug. I resisted. He pulled stronger and I ended up crashing into his chest.

"Arthur, please don—"

"All right, I get it. I acted poorly, and I'm sorry. But so did you, and even though you're not saying it, I know you're sorry." Was I? Sure, I was sorry he was hurt, I didn't want to hurt him, but I was not sorry about how I had acted. If given the chance to relive that day, I would act exactly the same. "Now what can I do to move forward?"

"You know what I want," I replied automatically, my tone challenging him. I almost took it back as soon as I said it, it was very wrong of me to use our emotional states to get what I wanted. But then I decided I was done making efforts for him. If he really wanted me, as I was, that was his chance to prove it.

And he did prove it.

Without missing a beat after I challenged him, his lips found mine. Just like that. No building the tension, no hesitating, no freezing halfway through. They were soft, and timid, but they were there. Finally. Arthur's lips on mine.

He pulled back after a few seconds, looking me dead in the eye, expectantly.

"You can do better than that, cari."

So he did better. His lips collided with mine again, this time with more intent. His hands slid down my body towards my waist, which he squeezed while he pulled me closer to him. He opened his mouth slightly, requesting access that I granted. He got startled when his tongue found my piercing but, to his credit, he did not comment on it and kept kissing me. It was not the best kiss I had ever had, by far, but it was the most anticipated one, also by far. His lips were hesitant, his tongue kind of sloppy, but I could feel his desperation to make it work. I did my best to make it work as well. I put my hands on the back of his neck and, wherever he was bringing automatism and mechanical movements, I tried to insufflate passion and enthusiasm. It sort of worked, but the quality of the kiss was not what I cared about at that time. Its existence was my main concern.

Eventually, he pulled back. His tongue retreated to his own mouth and he placed a final soft kiss on my lips, before taking a step back. He had a satisfied look on his face, as if we had finally resolved all our issues.

"You know very well a kiss is not what I had in mind," I told him.

He nodded, thoughtful. Then his energy shifted. More resolved than ever, as if on a mission, he closed the space between us. His fingers found the zipper on the back of my dress and what had been bound to happen for a while happened.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N: Hehehe! Is it finally happening? Is that what's going on? Or do I have something else in my bag for you? I guess you'll have to keep reading to find out!

Next chapter on Wednesday, and I might take a small break after that because of the holidays. I'll see depending on my schedule.

Don't forget to follow me on Tiktok and Instagram for some fun content! The username is charliegrangewrites on both platforms.

Love,
Charlie.