Alex hadn't thought of what it'd be like to dance with Francesca. Well, there was a chance he might have, but it'd have been beyond him to admit it. But had he or had he not, he certainly hadn't followed the train of thought far enough to figure out what it'd actually feel like.
It was a curious sensation, not at all what he'd experienced in their theater-class practice-sessions, with a rotating cast of partners. For the last three dances, he'd been leading, as the man was meant to, but it felt more like a formality than a real thing. Francesca was always there at the conclusion of each movement, waiting for him to arrive, waiting for the signal to continue the sequence. And the less he consciously thought about it, the more smoothly it went.
She looked up at him through her flat-cut bangs. “You're still stiff. Not enjoying yourself tonight?”
He stumbled. “I'm fine. It's fine.”
She laughed, and in his hesitation, took the lead. “I was watching, you know.”
It was a minor miracle that he didn't fall so far out of sync that he'd fall over. “Wait, what?”
Smug satisfaction spread across Francesca's face, one of her canines pressing against her lower lip. “You and Elza.”
Alex kept quiet for a few measures, while he fell back into step with Francesca. “What do you mean?”
He couldn't quite tell how he knew, but leadership of their dance fell back to him – the slightest of variation in pressure in their hands, maybe? He led Francesca into a spin, and when she stopped, cradled by his right arm, she still had that look. “Really, fighting on the first night? You're going to be miserable.”
Alex executed another set of steps, and another turn. “It was just a dance,” he lied.
“Sure,” she said, “and so's this.” Her steps changed, and she was… well, only maybe another half-inch closer to him, but he could feel the heat coming off of her so much more. The music came to a stop, and so did she, turned around, shoulders against his chest. “I know Elza. I know you,” she whispered. Her voice grew lower. “I know what you're thinking. I saw what you did.”
Alex pulled away from her, beet red. He didn't have a response, let alone a good one.
“Lex, let me give you a piece of advice.” Her voice quivered almost imperceptibly. “Be careful with her. Elza is dangerous.”
Alex, against his better judgment, nodded. “I know.”
Francesca frowned. “I don’t think you do. Don’t trust her.”
He couldn’t possibly explain to Francesca what had happened the other night, but he wanted to convey it, somehow. “I don’t, Chess.”
She grinned, and bowed deeply, her hair hanging down nearly to the floor. “Thank you for the dance, sir.”