"One, two, three, four—" Terry shoots a hand out, palm facing me. "Er, Martin. You're moving on the wrong count. Sometimes, you count too fast, other times too slow. Here. On this song, the claps go on the two and four."

We've been focusing on ball changes and pivot turns for the past hour. It's past midnight, and despite all my reservations, I decided to stay with him when no one else is here. "Sorry!" I say. "I just can't seem to get it. I mean, I've been a slow learner in some aspects. You might even call me a late bloomer...."

Terry looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "You will get it. It always takes time. But soon, it will be as natural as breathing."

"I'm forgetting to breathe sometimes too," I say, stifling a laugh.

Terry steps forward. He clasps his hands around my arms. For a second, I think he's going to lean in and dash apart all my beliefs.

"Martin," he says. "You're a bit nervous. Just relax, no one is here. Well, except me, but I won't shame you at all for any ridiculous dance moves. Trust me."

His intensity hits me like a concentrated ray of sunlight. Chills go down my shoulders and my spine. "Okay, let's try again."

I wish I could explain ball changes and pivot turns better. Ball changes feel like a risk of falling every half second I attempt to shift my weight. Pivot turns? I might as well be trying to suck an apple through a straw.

"You did well," Terry says, after he demonstrates once again what I'm supposed to do.

It's a Friday night. Classes this week were exhausting, but lovely actually. I'm learning more than ever, mainly through self study and digging into the secondary sources that Professor Yim provides for us.

Most of all, I've been reading more of the Bible and spending time in prayer. The questions I ask revolve around Terry. Though I try to hide it, I can't banish those concerns about him so easily.

"What do you wanna do now?" Terry says, raising an eyebrow again.

"Oh!" I glance at my phone. "My parents are probably expecting me."

"Yeah but you're an adult now."

He doesn't say it in a judgemental way, but rather with a challenge included. Nolan's words come back to me. Could it really be true that Terry is a player? A person who messes with people's hearts?

"Sure," I say. I send a text to my mom just in case. "We can hit up a drive thru. Maybe a coffee since it's Saturday tomorrow? I hope you don't mind. I noticed that you're a coffee lover too. Or at least, I think. Um. Yeah."

He smiles, patting me on the arm. "Yeah! I'll drive us to somewhere good."

In his car, Terry hums to a song that sounds like Avril Lavigne—except more contemporary. He lowers the volume abruptly. "So. Tell me more about the dating thing."

I stare ahead at the coming green light. Suddenly, everything spins. Everything that I held inside for so long, all of my secrets, swirl within me. I can't withhold everything, no matter how hard I try. Tears well up in my eyes.

"Um!" I start, wiping at my nose. "Sorry to get all emotional. I mean, I guess you didn't want a really serious talk or anything. Yeah. But turns out...."

A metaphorical rock gets stuck in my throat. "Turns out! I don't know if there's a future for me with dating. With my faith and all. It's complicated. Well, not so complicated. I guess I have a choice to make. I don't know if I want to ever make the choice, shutting off a whole part of me. Something that feels so real.

Does that make sense?"

He's silent for just a second. "No worries, Martin. I don't see you differently."

He says it so simply. So without judgment. Suddenly, the tears come like an actual river through the continent. I sob, actually sob. The tears don't stop, blurring everything in me. Sadness washes over me, for sure, but I offer a prayer immediately that I will overcome this. That it will pass.

Terry pulls over. He places a hand on my arm as the car stills then goes quiet. "Hey, it's okay."

I try to glance at him. Instead, snot runs down my face and I think I might look like the actual grim reaper. Combined with my sweat and achy limbs, I could probably die at this very moment.

He rubs a hand over my shoulder, calming me. Always being someone who knows what to do, unlike me.

When the tears finally die down—trust me, they take a very long time to go away—Terry speaks. "I'm like you, Martin."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I don't like to put a label on myself," he says. "A lot of guys are pretty cute." He stares at me with a soul rendering stare, and I believe that it might be a sin to sit here in his line of sight.

"Cool!" I take a massive sniff, probably sucking up a pool's worth of mucus back into my throat. Suddenly, I can hardly breathe. Terry passes me a tissue while I try to save my own life for a second time. "Do you really mean it?" I say.

He gives me a genuine smile. "Yes."

I nod. "Cool. Yeah! Let's go get our coffee. Sorry for the breakdown. It's not like I have no one to talk about with this. But I just realized this was the first time I was one hundred percent honest. Like, yeah. Even with my best friend, I had to rehearse exactly what to say. With you, it feels easy. Like using the bathroom."

"Huh?" Terry says with a line between his brows as he merges back into the traffic like a pro.

I laugh, sputtering again. "Forget what I said! Honestly, thanks so much Terry. That felt like I finally voiced what I'm feeling deep within. What I only tell to God."

He laughs too. "That's a very high honor, my student."

Terry treats us this time. Contrary to my belief, he orders a decaf for himself, though with a load of salted caramel syrup. I go for an iced mocha with soy milk, making the drive thru person confused when I say "half sweet" and he thinks that I asked him for cheese.

"Taste good?" Terry says, with a raised brow again.

I almost throw the entire drink at the windshield. "Yes! I mean, I have never tried this place before. Hah. But I actually love it. How do you even find places like this? Maybe I really am a sheltered person."

Terry doesn't ask me about the words that I spilled earlier. Instead, he uses his hands like a master artist. He explains ball changes and pivot turns, using as much of his body as possible. He turns passionate, alive, and filled with energy. "So you're doing this," he says, using his left hand to demonstrate. "What you really want to do is this." He uses his right hand.

"Makes total sense!" I say, even though I don't really entirely get it. I just want him to keep going, to keep being in his element. He looks like the sun, honestly, and again I apologize to God for thinking that way, for putting a human being on a pedestal like that.

Or am I really doing that? Is this just what a natural crush feels like?

"Does it make sense?" Terry asks me. "Really?"

Suddenly, it feels wrong to lie when I just told him my deepest secret. "Actually, no. I mean, it's clearer now. But the technical parts of it are still confusing. I can't seem to get it right."

He nods. "Why don't we try? In the parking lot."

For a second, I have no idea what he's talking about. Do what in the parking lot? Kiss? I cough on my drink, wondering whether I swallowed two ice cubes. "Um. I don't think...."

"Nothing crazy," he says, his mouth upturning. "Maybe I've been too strict on getting down the basics. I want you to know just how fun dancing is. So I'm gonna put on the stereo. And I want you to dance. Just do whatever you want. Be free. Don't plan anything, just do what the lyrics and music tell you to."

"What?" I say. I mean, I guess I've always strived to be an easygoing person. My father and mother are more like that. Instead, sometimes my nerves come out. Nolan likes to tell me that although I'm a non-serious person, sometimes I can worry and yap like clockwork.

"Like I said before, the only one watching is me." Terry smiles. "You don't need to worry."

I nod. Okay. So Terry will now know just how bad of a dancer I am. No matter how much I want to reach people with the gospel and dance, I have to accept that I cannot move lithely at all, only flounder about.

"Unless you're too scared?" Terry says.

Although Terry would of course like to tease me, he knows the challenge is there, and I guess he knows that I'd like to impress him. Could sending me his half-nudes be some weird technique to gain my trust? And my desire to want to impress him?

"I'll do it," I say.

"I'll select the song," Terry says. "When you hear something for the first time, your body will tell you what to do. You will adjust until you find your groove, until the music flows all through you.'

I nod, climbing out of the car. Maybe the caffeine totally hit me, but I feel alive. It could be releasing my secret into the air, making the declaration. I offer up a little prayer to God. After all, prayer is a constant conversation. It isn't just something to do before sleeping or before a meal.

"Ready?" Terry asks me.

I nod. Even though I'm afraid, I wanted to take a risk with Terry and with contemporary dance. Even though it's completely outside of the things that I know. "Yes."

He presses play on his stereo, and the song that comes out surprisingly sounds like a gospel song. It's a female artist I've never heard of before, and she begins to sing about loving God despite a hardship.

Suddenly, inspiration flows through me. Terry told me not to worry. And not to think about the technicalities. So that's what I'll do.

I say a prayer again, then I begin to move. I start with my arms first, adjusting my movements to the tenderness of the singer's voice. When the beat comes in, I begin to move my feet too. Sure, I may have no idea what I'm doing. But I'm truly feeling the lyrics and the melody.

I want nothing more than to be devout, than to be true to myself and my faith. When I move, I try to show that through my whole body. Tears well up in my eyes, even though I thought I dried myself up before.

Sure, I can't do any leaps or any crazy swiveling, but I picture myself as if looking into a mirror. I know that my lines aren't refined, that I don't look anything like Terry.

But Martin Bo? Could I really be a dancer? It's something new, but the feeling is electrifying.

When the song crests into the bridge, I try my best to expand my body, to stretch myself further like an actual sugar glider. I decide to leap forward.

My foot slip on a loose rock, and I catapult toward the car.

I close my eyes. I guess this is how I go. My head smashing into the metal of Terry's car, and I'll be buried with my late grandparents in the cemetery three miles from my house.

But strong hands wrap around my waist, pulling me upward.

My eyes open. Staring straight at me is Terry Mao. His eyes ask me whether I'm okay, whether I'm fine even though I could've died just now.

I find out something new about Terry Mao. He must use an expensive hand lotion, because it feels like actual baby skin holding me upward. He pulls me further, and I stumble onto my feet—which feel like two rocking boats in the storm.

"Thanks!" I say. "I mean I totally shouldn't have done it. Should've played it safe and not tried to impress you... or myself."

He gives me a little grin. "Martin, that was amazing. It was the first time I saw you completely let go. See? You have it in you. You have the resonance in your dance that people will love to see. Even though I don't believe in God, I was moved by you."

I nod, and I make a horrible sniffing noise that could probably wake up an entire suburban neighborhood. "Thanks, Terry."

"Let's finish up our coffees."

Back in his car, Terry lowers the music so low that I can barely hear it, like a little buzz from an insect in the back seat. I think he changed it to some sort of reggae.

"Why did you choose that song for me?" I ask Terry.

He nods while taking a sip. "I chose it because I thought it would move you. It's important to pick a song that you can relate to. I wouldn't play, like, a song about a heterosexual relationship, for example."

"That's very thoughtful," I say, even though I'm scared that Terry knows me so well already.

As he drives me back home, I spend a lot of time admiring Terry.

Um, I hope he doesn't know that I'm doing this, that I'm committing this sin. But he draws me to him, and he hums to the music and drives with so much confidence that I could hardly believe that I've met someone like him.

He nods to the music. At this point, I decide to close my eyes and picture him driving me home, being a safe person.

His half-nudes flash through my mind again, but more than that—the love that he shows toward his dance and his crew, I keep dwelling on that. It lulls me away.

At some point, the drowsiness fully takes me away. When I open my eyes again, a pleasant feeling transfers down my head to my shoulders. Apparently, Terry's headrest is truly amazing.

"Slept well?" he asks me.

I blink a million times and find him smiling at me, his face profiled in the moonlight and streetlight. He keeps looking at me, and it's like time freezes and he turns into an actual snowglobe. He nods a little again, which totally knocks me out of my reverie.

"Are you going to give me a goodnight kiss?" Terry asks.

He asks it so genuinely that I want to give into all my desires. Instead, I scream, "NO."

His eyes widen, then he bursts out laughing. "We're here. Go have a good night's rest, Martin. You deserve it."

I slam the car door and march up to my porch, refusing the temptation to look back.

What do you think? Is Martin in trouble? Is he the most fortunate person right now? 

I'd love to hear from you! Stay safe this spooky season.