So You Think You Can Dance?

forget me not series – The Romance of Ayin & Will

CHAPTER TWELVE

On Valentine’s, Ayin spent dinner at home with her mother who was visiting from the province.

They were watching evening reruns of So You Think You Can Dance, a long running top rated and Emmy award-winning American reality TV dance competition show, which she barely had time to watch when she was working.

Season 8 was her favorite by far and, like any sports fan, she had been following the progress of her favorite dance couple.

She was fascinated and moved by how they could deeply convey different life stories through ballroom, hip-hop, street club, classical or contemporary dance.

Each move was defined, beautiful and addicting to watch. Some numbers made them cry, and some death-defying stunts left them breathless.

Upon the finale, she and her mother, whom she shared a passion with for anything musical or the performing arts, took turns cheering, analyzing and commentating on the routines as they presented the “best of the season” encores in the last 2-hour telecast, just like in a live basketball match.

The competition was especially tight that season for the finalists were all awesome dancers.

So when her favorite female dancer, Melanie Moore, was finally declared the season’s winner, she was emotional and felt like she also won the grand prize herself.

So, that night, she was crying tears of joy when her phone finally beeped.

A one-word text message: Coffee?

Her heart started to pound.

She quickly cleared her eyes to see if she had not mistaken the message sender.

It was him.

It was him with that 6-letter word after 6 days of silence: “Coffee?”

What did he mean? Was he asking her out for coffee, bringing it, or he wants some?

She texted back: Where are you?

His reply, “Across your house. Let’s have coffee if you’re free.”

Quickly, she went out to the balcony and looked out across the street. There she saw her favorite cute champagne-colored car blinking.

She did not want him to go up her house because she was not ready to answer any questions related to him yet to her mother.

She texted: “Sure. Let’s go out. Give me 10 minutes.”

He replied: “No rush.”

Going back to the sala, she announced, “Um, Ma. I’m going out for coffee.”

It was already past 9pm but she did not elaborate.

To her relief, her mother just nodded, her eyes still glued to the TV, now showing her favorite detective series.

Ever since she graduated from school, her mother had never bothered again about her curfews and whereabouts.

Her mother’s only question was, “Will you be long?”

Slowly, she nodded.

“Will lock the gate. Don’t forget your keys,” said her mother, just like the perfect roommate.

Truth be told, she had become better friends with her mother ever since she graduated and was no longer her responsibility.

She was the youngest in the family and soon after her college graduation, her mother had retired from her own work as a chemistry teacher of 20-something years, then becoming a more relaxed, less strict and cooler parent.

Thereafter, both her parents moved out of their house to relocate to her father’s hometown.

Her mother had told her then that she was now free — free to pursue her own triumphs, to make her own mistakes, to eat the food she likes and live the life she wants.

“Yeah,” she said as she rushed to her room to change.

She didn’t have time to be picky about clothes. She grabbed her favorite two-layered bohemian skirt and just paired it with a simple black V-neck silk shirt.

Then, she accessorized with silver hoop earrings, three threaded bracelets on one wrist and another one on the ankle.

She debated briefly between her pretty open-toe sandals or comfortable Skechers. The latter won.

Not knowing how to style her long hair, she let it be over her shoulders and proceeded to dab her lips with a tinted lip gloss, no other makeup.

She was not a fan of perfumes, so she just generously applied lotion on her skin with her favorite scent of baby powder and cherry blossoms.

Then, she was done.

Grabbing her sling purse, she said goodbye to her mother and went out.

The area outside her gate was a no parking zone. So she crossed the street and half-jogged towards the car.

With the night street lamp streaming on the car, she saw a shadow of a black cap and knew he was just inside.

She opened the passenger door to a blast of cool air and loud 80’s disco music playing on the radio.

“Hi,” she said.

He turned the volume down and smiled at her.

She was about to enter the car when she stopped…

…A single pale pink rose lay on the passenger seat.

She couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment. It was so beautiful and in full bloom.

Finally, she cleared her throat and asked, “For me?”

He didn’t meet her eyes and just shrugged, “If you like it.”

Her heart fluttered. She picked up the rose.

But, what’s the occasion?

Was this an apology for not getting in touch with her for a week? But then, why would he? She didn’t contact him either.

Or, was this his way of saying he likes her?

Once seated, she put the single pink rose to her nose and breathed in its sweet scent.

To hide her fluttering heart, she teased him, “What’s the meaning of this, Sir Will? Is this rose saying you like me? You missed me, didn’t you?”

Grinning, he teased back, “Don’t be too flattered. I bought that from a child vendor on the street. It was already late so I took pity on her…”

Then casually, he added, “It was timing she had that color. It’s the same color as your shirt when we first met.”

Her heart melted. He remembered.

Aloud, she just teased him more. “Aysuuss, don’t bother to deny it. Anyway, this is so pretty. Thank you.”

She appreciated it much more than a bouquet for its simplicity and lightness. No bulk, no fuss.

“Sorry about the late hour,” he said as he started to drive.

“I planned to be here earlier, but I had an afternoon class and dropped the student off in Mactan island. Got caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Seemed like everyone in Cebu was out for Valentine’s.”

Oh. She had forgotten it was Valentine’s.

Since she had resigned from work, there was no events calendar to remind her.

She looked at him and noticed he was also wearing a black polo shirt. “Look at us. We’re both wearing black and it’s Valentines. Are we in protest or something?”

They both laughed.

“I didn’t realize Valentine’s would cause this much traffic,” she commented as she observed there were still a lot of cars on the road even at this night hour.

“This is better now than earlier. It’s slow but at least we’re moving,” he countered. “Haven’t you gone out on Valentine’s before?”

“No,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time. These past few years, I was always working on Valentine’s. It’s a big annual hotel event.”

Looking back, she chuckled. “Maybe we were the cause of such traffic then, too. Our events were quite popular.”

After a while, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“Same place at Oakridge.”

“Hm.” It would take another 30 minutes or so for them to reach there.

Suddenly, she had an idea. Still pumped up from the show she watched earlier and now his disco music, she asked him, “Want to go dancing instead?”

Surprised, he glanced at her and smiled. “You wanna?”

“Can you dance?” she shot at him.

“Ahem,” he said in mock seriousness. “I was just part of the dance troupe in high school. So….”

He threw her a smug look. She laughed.

He had something planned at Oakridge, but she seemed excited about dancing. And the thought of dancing with her, well…

Deciding to go with the flow, he said, “Let’s go to Crossroads, then.”

Crossroads, the current go-to strip of bars and restaurants, was just a block away. But they found the place already overflowing with couples and groups mostly from the very energetic younger crowd. There was not a single parking slot left.

So they U-turned and went further down to the more spacious BTC, another commercial block that houses one popular bar, which they heard on the radio was celebrating the night with an all-out dance party.

Just as they entered, a blue sedan eased out of its parking slot.

Perfect, it’s a sign. They followed suit and were able to park very near the disco bar.

They were in the middle of an open air parking lot and, as she went out of the car, she looked up to find a bright full moon already dancing with the clouds.

Fascinated, she stayed in place and enjoyed it for a minute.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” she said softly.

Him, “Mm.”

He was watching and waiting for her by the hood of the car.

She met his eyes and, realizing she had spaced out for awhile, started walking towards him.

“You ready?” she teased.

He answered with his favorite line, “I was born ready.”

It was an open bar with no cover charge for a minimum consumable. There were alfresco and inner lounge areas, and a prominent dance floor inside.

A bald DJ with big headphones was spinning music tracks at an elevated booth by the bar. And when they heard it was a set of 80’s dance tunes, they looked at each other and grinned. It was the music they’ve been hoping for.

In silent agreement, they headed towards the bar first and ordered light beers.

It was crowded. They were enveloped by a heady mix of cold air, liquor aroma, human sweat overpowered by musky colognes and sweet perfumes, and the distinct smell of cigarette smoke.

After a while, she tapped him on his shoulder and, when he leaned down, said loudly on his ear, “Might as well dance now, there are no available tables.”

He nodded. Then giving the bartender his most charming smile, he gestured and temporarily left their barely consumed beer bottles at the bar. Understanding, the kind bartender gave them an enthusiastic smile and thumbs up sign. He set it aside for them.

They made their way to the middle of the dance floor and grooved to the beat.

Then, her eyes rounded wide. He had the moves similar to that of her father’s – a strange, funny mix of big, bold steps leaning towards ballroom.

Some would say it’s awkward. It was out of sync with the standard cool head bop and small shoulder sway of this generation.

But then, as she watched him dance his own way, oozing with confidence and originality, she just found him all the more cuter.

He danced so wonderfully weird and he owned it. She loved it.

It made her feel relieved, too, because frankly, she was no great dancer herself.

His odd yet fearless dance moves gave her the boldness to free herself.

Enough with the cute shoulder sway, she decided. It was time to bounce to the beat of her own drum and simply let pure energy flow.

The rhythm of the night called for it.

So she danced even more weirdly than him, but who cares? This was no live TV competition, the point was just to move.

They surrendered to their own bubble and danced like no one was watching. Which was actually true, since everybody was up on their feet, completely lost to the music.

Soon enough, they were jumping and kicking to Spandau Ballet’s “Gold” and Van Halen’s “Jump”.

They did the signature arm wave to Sheena Easton’s “Telefone (Long Distance Love Affair)”.

And then, when Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” came on, they gamely grooved to their clumsy version of the zombie dance in unison to the crowd.

It was crazy fun. She was so happy that this guy was not shy at all.

When the DJ finished the set and segued to house music for a break, the crowd dispersed, some calling it a night.

A few tables cleared.

They managed to snag a small high round table outside with a couple of stools. He left to get their beers at the bar with mugs of ice.

Alone, guarding their table, she was still flushed and feeling a bit hot. Without looking at a mirror, she expertly scooped up her hair and tied it into a messy bun.

Just then, someone called, “Ayin, over here!”

She looked to her right and saw some colleagues from her old job mixed with a few unfamiliar faces a few tables away. With a big smile, she waved back.

When in Cebu, it is inevitable to bump into someone you know when you’re out long enough.

With perfect timing, he arrived with their drinks. Sliding off the stool, she told him, “Just a moment.”

She scooted to the other table and kissed on both cheeks the ones she knew in greeting.

They made small talk as she braced herself for what she knew was coming.

“Are you dating that guy?” someone asked. There it was.

She just grinned at them. Excitedly, others started hooting and asking, “Who’s he? Where did you meet him?”

She shushed them, “We’re not dating. He’s a friend.”

Not quite believing her, they just laughed and continued teasing.

She stole a glance at him. When he saw her looking, he smiled.

She didn’t call him over since he was guarding the table. Instead, she gestured to him to wait for a while more.

He just continued to smile and tipped his cap in greeting to her friends.

She couldn’t easily leave the group’s table since they were in the middle of reporting some juicy news.

When she finally said goodbye and turned to head back, she saw him now standing by the table, with a big smile, talking to a couple of women.

“My former students,” he told her, as she approached. “They’re also from Dipolog.”

She nodded and easily smiled at them. She sat on the stool, picked up her drink and gave them space to continue their conversation.

Like her, they also called him “Sir Will”. From what she overheard, they seemed to be talking about buying a car and asking for his opinion on the pros and cons of a certain brand.

Then, she heard them invite him for a dance.

Just one, they said, since they had no male companion.

She frowned into her now lukewarm beer.

She relaxed a little when she heard him decline the invitation, laughing softly like he was shy.

Deciding to ignore them, she called the waiter and ordered pizza, chicken wings and sodas. She was hungry.

They soon finished chatting and the two women went to the inner lounge. As they waved goodbye, he sat back on the table.

“I ordered food,” she told him.

“Great. I’m hungry, too.”

Then slowly, he shook his head. “I bet I’ll be the headline in my hometown’s news tomorrow. Word will spread that I have a new girlfriend.”

He looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

She smiled to cover her thundering heart.

“Because of them?” she asked referring to the two women.

He nodded. “They’re our town’s overseas ‘reporters’. They pick on every little bit of news about anyone who left and now living elsewhere.”

Just then, they were interrupted as the waiter brought in the orders.

He let her eat first while he finished his old beer.

Continuing the topic, he asked, “Were your friends asking about us, too? They kept looking at me.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Don’t mind them. It’s just harmless gossip.”

“Shall we make it true for them?” he said jokingly.

The butterflies rushed to her stomach, as she lifted her eyes to his. He was smiling at her.

Was he serious? Was that a real question?

A part of her didn’t want to assume anything. She’d been burned before. When it came to this matter, she’s not reading lines at all until it was told to her straight.

When he didn’t say anything further, she treated it as a joke. She just laughed in response.

Besides, she was used to him being straightforward. If he did like her, he would tell it to her plainly and not joke around, right?

She wished it was true though.

She wondered if or when he would ever put a period to all this flirting.

She might just do it herself. She didn’t know until when she could contain all this attraction for him. She was so nervous she couldn’t even joke about it this time.

He started to eat in his usual quiet manner. She didn’t disturb him. She was busy telling the butterflies to settle somewhere else for the moment.

Just then, the DJ signaled the start of the next set. They didn’t stand up. They continued to eat and drink as a contemporary mix of hip hop, pop, jazz and modern beats played inside.

Seated outside, the music wasn’t as loud. At least they could still hear each other talking.

Finished with their food, he took out a stick of the familiar black Marlboro menthol and lit it.

Suddenly curious, she asked him, “How was your week? Busy?”

What she really wanted to ask was why he didn’t call her for a week.

He nodded. “A friend of mine came over, and I had to handle some classes.”

Female students? She wondered and instantly frowned at herself in annoyance.

He’s not your exclusive instructor, she reminded herself.

Though she wanted to, she didn’t bring up the photos she saw on Facebook, that showed him chilling out in the highlands of Busay between two pretty girls. Were they his students?

“How’s your driving?” he asked her.

“Haven’t driven solo yet,” she said. “Though I already got my driver’s license this week, my sister won’t allow me to use her car without a chaperone driver.”

“Tsk. You should have called me. I could have chaperoned you anytime.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m jobless. I can’t afford another session.”

He chuckled. “Told you I’d be happy with just coffee… especially your 3-in-one coffee.” He winked at her.

He took a puff of cigarette, then gestured his head towards the car. “You drive home later.”

She perked up. “Yes!”

Unlike before, she was now eager to drive whenever there’s a chance to.

He laughed at her happy face.

After midnight, the DJ announced the last set and started to play slow songs as goodbye to Valentine’s.

He put out his cigarette on the ash tray.

“One more dance for the road?” he asked her.

“Sure,” she said.

Though the crowd has thinned, there were still a number of couples left on the dance floor.

Her heart raced when she realized she would have to go closer to him since it was a slow song.

Nervously, she put her arms loosely on his shoulders as he held the sides of her waist.

He smiled at her and bent his head to her ear, “Relax, I’m harmless.”

She wanly smiled back.

Then to her horror, she clumsily stepped on his big foot and, slightly off balance, stumbled to his chest. She grabbed his waist to keep from falling further.

She felt his arms instinctively tighten around her to steady her.

She couldn’t look him in the eyes. She was afraid she would punch him if she found laughter there, or simply drown in them if he looked at her deeply again.

So she decided to stay that way – with her head placed lightly on his chest and her hands at the back of his shirt, as they swayed to the music.

She relaxed slightly as she breathed in the familiar scent of him – that earthy and woodsy fragrance now mixed with a hint of sweat and cigarette smoke. He still smelled so good. She realized she was getting addicted to this manly smell.

To calm her restless mind, she focused on the song playing and softly sang through the lyrics of “Through the Fire”, Nina’s version, as the music gently flowed over them.

🎶“I look in your eyes and I can see
We’ve loved so dangerously
You’re not trusting your heart to anyone
You tell me you’re gonna play it smart
We’re through before we start
But I believe that we’ve only just begun

When it’s this good, there’s no saying no
I want you so, I’m ready to go

Through the fire
To the limit, to the wall
For a chance to be with you
I’d gladly risk it all
Through the fire
Through whatever, come what may
For a chance at loving you
I’d take it all the way
Right down to the wire
Even through the fire

I know you’re afraid of what you feel
You still need time to heal
And I can help if you’ll only let me try
You touch me and something in me knew
What I could have with you
Well I’m not ready to kiss that dream goodbye

When it’s this sweet, there’s no saying no
I need you so, I’m ready to go…”🎶

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