midnight rain [f. colapinto]

f i f t y - e i g h t

Evita felt impossibly out of her element at the salsa studio. She had taken Franco to learn about ceramics, so it was only fair that she uphold her end of the deal and attend his salsa lesson, but she was nervous. She wasn't a dancer. Sure, she had danced with Luke at the club in Singapore only a few weeks ago, but that was different. Here, she couldn't rely on her intoxication to calm her nerves.

Franco glanced at her and smirked, his confidence seemingly unshakable. "Relax," he said, nudging her gently with his elbow. "It's just a dance lesson, you're not going to die."

"Easy for you to say," Evita muttered, fidgeting with the hem of her top. "This was your idea, remember?"

"And a great one at that," replied Franco. "You need to loosen up. Starting physically will help you mentally. It'll be fun."

The instructor, a tiny woman with curly gray hair, had them pair off. Evita quickly noticed that most of the people attending the class were couples, which made her presence with Franco all the more awkward.

Franco offered Evita both his hands, the way the instructor told the "leads" to. Evita paused for a moment before gently resting hers on his. The clumsily worked their way through the first eight count. A step backward as Franco stepped forward, then collected the feet. Then they switch places, Evita taking a step forward as Franco went back.

Despite both being beginners, it quickly became clear that Franco was picking up the dance moves much faster than Evita. His natural rhythm seemed to adapt almost instinctively, while she stumbled over a few steps, trying to catch up.

"How do you make this look so easy?" mumbled Evita, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. Franco guided her through a clumsy underarm turn.

He shrugged, his lips turning up in a half-smile. "Natural talent," he teased, sending her a playful wink. He squeezed her hands gently. "But don't worry, you're not doing too bad."

Evita shot him a  mock glare, though she couldn't help but smile. "I'm used to being in control of situations," she admitted, trying to match his steps but getting tripped up yet again.

Before she could fully recover, a young woman from the class approached the pair with a smile. "Mind if I steal you for the next dance?" she asked, her gaze flicking over Evita before resting on Franco.

Evita felt a strange prick of annoyance but quickly plastered on a polite smile. Before Franco could answer, she spoke up. "Actually, we're working on something," she said, her tone smooth.

The woman's face fell slightly, annoyance flashing in her eyes as she finally seemed to notice Evita's presence. "Alright, maybe later then," she said, brushing her hand against Franco's forearm before she walked away.

Evita exhaled and turned back to Franco, only to find him staring at her with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smirk.

"Didn't know you were the jealous type," he teased, his voice low.

Evita blinked, her cheeks heating. "Jealous? Of her?" she asked, crossing her arms. "I just didn't want to waste time switching partners and starting over. Efficiency, Franco."

"Right," said Franco, his smirk widening. "That's why you stepped in so fast. Totally about efficiency."

Evita sighed, ignoring the flutter in her chest, "Don't flatter yourself. I'm just here to make sure we don't fail miserably at this."

"Whatever you say, Evita," he said, still grinning as he offered her a hand.

They switched to a more intimate frame, as suggested by the instructor. Evita's right hand was clasped in Franco's left. His other hand was on her back, hers on his bicep. Evita focused on the steps, trying to ignore Franco's smug expression and the unsettling realization that, maybe, she had felt a little jealous.

The instructor stopped by, nodding in approval at their minimal progress. "You two really do look great together," she said. "Just don't be afraid to trust him."

Evita froze for a fraction of a second, her steps faltering as she tried to compose herself. Franco, noticing her hesitation, pulled her closer, his fingers tightening on her back, steadying her.

"Ignore her," he said softly, his mouth close to her ear. "It's just us here, okay? Just focus on me."

Evita swallowed hard, feeling that familiar mix of irritation and something softer that always seemed to surface when Franco was around. She nodded, her voice coming out quieter than she intended. "Just you," she said, more to herself than to him.

As the song carried on, Franco's hand on her back grew more confident, traveling a little lower, pulling her closer as they tried to keep up with the rhythm. Franco didn't let her stumble, holding her a little tighter if she missed a step.

"See?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're getting the hang of it."

Evita's breath hitched for a split second, and the proximity suddenly made her hyper-aware of every movement. "Don't go thinking this will be a recurring thing," she replied.

Franco's laugh was low. "Wouldn't dream of it," he said, his smile widening as he effortlessly led her into another spin.

When the class was over, Evita was breathless, but not entirely from the dance itself. As they walked off the dance floor, Franco's arm brushed against hers, lingering just enough to remind her of the strange, new connection between them.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" asked Franco as Evita drove them back to her flat.

Evita shrugged, not taking her gaze away from the road. "It was okay."

"Just okay? Evita, for once, you looked like you were having fun," said Franco.

Evita reached out to swat at his arm. "Hey!" she protested. "I have fun all the time."

"Okay, Evita," said Franco in a tone that told Evita that he did not believe her. "But I don't know. It just seems like you're finally letting your guard down, it's really nice to see."

"Really?" asked Evita out of the corner of her eye.

Franco nodded. "It's really beautiful, actually. I like getting to know the real you."

"I like getting to know the real you too," agreed Evita.

Franco reached over to squeeze Evita's shoulder gently. The rest of the car ride was spent in light conversation, not a single bit of tension between them.