“There we go...
step front-yes... step back-good...
yes- you’re doing it... gah!”
Emily paused,
her left foot in midair. She glanced up at Myles’ face, which was contorted in
precipitous pain. “What? What I do?” she asked, mildly annoyed.
Myles and Emily
were in Fowl Manor’s now vacant ballroom, all traces of limestone tables and
finely crafted wooden chairs hidden in bleak white. Myles had insisted that
Emily consider ballroom dancing lessons, since waltzing was, as he had claimed
time and time again, not her best forte, and she had agreed, albeit very
reluctantly.
However, she had
not known that they were taking pre-classes to her original classes, and so she couldn’t help but feel a wee bit
irked. And still, after five agonizingly slow sessions, Emily’s feet refused to
decipher the basics of ballroom dancing, and it was becoming evident that Myles
was growing more and more frustrated with her with the passing of each
class.
Emily heard
Myles breathe sharply before he glared at her, stooping down to rub his sore
shin. “That’s the issue now, though, isn’t it? It’s what you haven’t been doing,” he nearly spat, a
frown creasing his smooth forehead. Emily lifted an eyebrow, half amused. Myles
wasn’t being very empathetic towards her situation; he was completely ignoring
the fact that she had never properly waltzed in... ever.
She wasn’t
exactly sure of what he had expected from her, but he seemed to have had high
hopes for her. Emily sighed, scratching just below her ear. “It’s not my fault
you’re being a useless tutor,” she retorted, crossing her arms. Myles sighed
and lifted himself from the ground, his frame towering over Emily’s. He methodically rubbed his
thumb across his forehead, closed his eyes, and started the
process of multiplying numbers in his head to calm his agitated nerves. Emily smiled.
“Emily, stop being an idiot and learn the steps,”
he said slowly, nodding at every word enunciated, his stance assuming lead
position. Emily groaned loudly but obliged nonetheless. Lifting her arms, she
rested her right hand on top of Myles’ shoulder and the other clasped his right
hand. “Alright,” he muttered, nodding along the lively tunes of Frank Sinatra’s
Fly With Me. “Again- just like I
taught you,” he repeated, somewhat wary. Emily nodded quickly and followed his
lead.
Left foot back- right foot side- left
foot front- twirl.
Left foot back- right foot side- left
foot front- twirl.
Left foot back- right foot side-
“Stop.”
Emily looked up
again, nostrils flared irritably. “What?” she moaned, dropping her hands. Myles
raised an irritated eyebrow. “You were leading again!” he snapped. “Again?” she
half laughed, and then frowned. “I was not!”
Myles let out a
long, weary sigh and took a step back. “I’m not even sure my left foot is functioning
properly thanks to your horrid foot
work.”
“My footwork is
not that bad. You’re the one who keeps stopping me every two seconds! How the
hell am I supposed to get better if I can’t even dance-“
“I’ve given you
more than two seconds,” he huffed, smoothing out the creases on his maroon
Armani suit. Emily shook her head. “That’s
an overstatement,” she said very clearly, sitting square legged on the carpeted
floor.
Myles rolled his
eyes. He carefully slid out of his suit jacket and hung it on a nearby chair.
“Okay,” he said calmly, making his way toward her. He offered her his hand, but
Emily swatted it away, pouting profusely. “How about we drop the stubborn act
and try again,” he tried, kneeling beside her. Emily looked away. “I’m not a
child,” she growled, narrowing her eyes.
“I don’t know,
Em, you seem pretty baby-ish to me.”
Emily rolled her
eyes and Myles smiled crookedly before getting up, dusting his lint free
pantsuit. “Aren’t you supposed to be training with Butler?” he asked dryly.
Beckett walked
over to the windows, which took up almost an entire wall, and tugged at a cream
velvet rope. The curtains shuddered, then parted, revealing a wide shaft of
afternoon sunlight, instantly illuminating the weakly lit ballroom. Emily
noticed the dust swirling in the sunbeams, and wondered why she and Myles had been taking their ‘class’ in dim darkness.
“Yeah,” Beckett
answered finally. “But Jules needs him in New Mexico- something about a sticky
situation with some guy called Spiro? I dunno, Artemis’ with them too.”
Emily glanced at
Myles, confused. Myles caught the hint. “Juliet is- well, rather was our caretaker and body guard-“
“You guys had a
bodyguard? Isn’t that a bit too overprotective?”
Beckett laughed,
shaking his head. “Nah. We needed Juliet so she could keep an eye on the people
around us rather than me and Myles.
We were rascals back then, right Myles?” he asked cheerfully, leaning back against
a black marble pillar.
“Rather then Myles and myself,” mumbled Myles, giving
Beckett an exaggerated eye roll. Emily laughed.
Beckett ignored
the both of them and ran a quick hand through his fair curls. “Dance lessons
failing yet?” he smirked.
Myles snorted.
“Hardly. Emily’s quite the quick learner. You’d be surprised to find that she
mastered the basics in no less than under five minutes,” he lied, lifting his
chin loftily. Emily’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth before shutting
them again, not liking where this was going. She shot Myles a warning look but
he brushed it away, staring defiantly at Beckett.
Beckett nodded,
seemingly impressed, but Emily could detect hints of skepticism.
“What? Not able
to comprehend that?”
“Afraid not,” Beckett
replied, grinning. “You’re not exactly the best teacher...”
“I know, right!”
chimed Emily, nodding enthusiastically. Myles narrowed his eyes at her, but not
long enough for Beckett to notice. Play
along, the glare said, or else we’ll
never hear the end of it from Beckett.
“But- if it hadn’t been for clever little
me, I wouldn’t have gotten the steps so easily and this would have been a
massive failure of a class. But I guess Myles is an okay tutor... sort of,” she
added quickly, naturally, earning a false smile from Myles, who appeared to
successfully restrain himself from scowling at her.
Beckett gave her
a lazy smile. “Impress me, then,” he said, crossing his arms.
Myles lifted a
careless shoulder. “I’m afraid we haven’t the time,” he drawled, smiling
apologetically. “I must phone the taxi services to take Emily back to Dublin
square. She has to mind the book shop for her father- isn’t that right, Emily?”
Emily lifted her nails to eyesight and nodded halfheartedly. “Couldn’t have
been more right, mate.”
Beckett scoffed.
“It’s Sunday. All the shops are closed on Sunday.”
Emily shook her
head. “We’re renovating the store,” she replied breezily.
Beckett regarded
her dubiously before sighing. “I knew you were making it up. Emily couldn’t
dance to save her life- she probably has two left feet.” He stopped, stroking
his chin thoughtfully, “You know what? From this day on, I’m going to call her left foot faucet, you know, because of her
two left feet.”
Emily snorted,
clapping her hands. “Wow, Beck. I’m impressed, truly. You sure you didn’t plan
this entire moment? Seemed like you memorized that entire left foot faucet speech- good job, by the way. Brilliant use of
alliteration.” She turned to Myles, who gave her a minute shake of the head as
if he knew the very thing she was about to suggest. Emily ignored him, getting to
her feet. “Come on, Myles, let’s show the boy how to waltz- and well, at that. None of that nonsense
Beckett’s been doing his entire life.”
“But the taxi-“
“Come on.”
Ignoring Beckett’s
denying huh!, Emily marched over to
Myles, claimed his shoulder with her right hand, grasped his hand with a firm
hand of her own, and assumed her stance. Myles cleared his throat, but he
looked at her with new determined eyes, and Emily knew she wasn’t left dangling
on her own.
They were in this together.
She cleared her
mind, and replayed the order of the steps in her memory.
Left foot back- right foot side- left
foot front- twirl.
It wasn’t that hard,
she reasoned with herself. She frowned in concentration; not noticing the hint
of a
smile Myles was giving her.
Left foot back- right foot side- left
foot front- twirl.
Their feet moved
in sync as the dulcet lull of the music filled the room.
Left foot back- right foot side- left
foot front- twirl.
Left foot back- right foot side- left
foot front- twirl.
“Don’t stop
now.” She barely heard Myles mutter this, and instead focused on the precision
of her footwork.
Left foot back- right foot side- left
foot front- twirl.
“Don’t look at
your feet, it’s unattractive,” he instructed softly. Emily automatically looked
up to find his eyes intently fixed on hers. She gave him a slight nod, noticing,
perhaps for the very first time, the vibrant vivid hazel in his eyes.
She blinked and
then quickly cast her look away, very, very aware of the fact that her cheeks
were probably flushed a soft pink.
Myles twirled
her again and-
The music halted
abruptly.
“Alright- okay,
fine. You proved your point. Emily’s a genius. How about we stop the session?
I’m hungry,” announced Beckett, walking out of the ballroom before either one
of them could catch up.
Myles gave Emily
a slight shrug before dropping his hands to his sides. “Shall we take a break?”
he asked.
Emily nodded,
smiling. “I’ve done well, haven’t I?”
Myles sighed,
rubbing the back of his neck. “You didn’t do terribly, so there’s a small, if miniscule, improvement in your
part,” he said lazily, swerving the light punch Emily aimed at his chest. “Yes,
you did well,” he rolled his eyes, but Emily caught the slight curve in his lips,
and she knew she managed to impress him.
- the-wyverary
__________________________________________________________
So not ready for nano wrimo shit
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