thing about being insane—if you think you are then you’re probably not. It’s when you think you’re perfectly normal that you should start to worry.
All my regulars are in class today. The atmosphere overflows with enthusiasm for a night of fun dancing and a hardcore calorie burn. I head to the front of the dance room and queue up my mp3 player to tonight’s playlist on the big stereo system, anxious to let my body move and my mind take a break from thinking about Kris.
He wasn’t at the gym when I arrived a few minutes ago, and if all goes as it has for the last twelve days, he won’t bother showing up this late. My guess is that he’s working only in the day shift now, or possibly not at all since the place runs itself just fine without him. But who cares what he does; the only thing I care about is the next sixty minutes of carefree sexy aerobics.
The warm up song, a naughty R&B track, begins and I lead the class in slow hip circle stretches and deep lunges. My muscles unwind and my body falls into step with the music. Halfway through the song, I’m feeling both sexy and relaxed. The door at the back of the room swings open with a screech, and I try not to get distracted from the late comers by keeping my eyes closed as I squat down low, arch my back and bring it up slowly.
“Three more, ladies,” I say in a soothing voice, directing them on what to do for the ending of the song. As I lean back into the second squat, my eyes open. I study the mirrors in front of me to make sure everyone is in sync. My arms stretch in front of me for balance as my ass pokes out as far and low as I can go, which luckily is farther and lower than anyone else in class is. I don’t need my students upstaging me.
When I arch my back and slowly rise out of the squat, a bright white shirt catches my attention from the back corner of the dance room. My muscles tense, freezing me in a half squat as I blink to make sure the reflection in the mirror isn’t just a mirage.
Kris Payne positions himself at the back of the room, legs shoulder width apart and ass bent into a squatting position. Still caught in disbelief, I whip around and see him with my own eyes and not through a mirror’s reflection. A few people in the front row rise from their squat and stare at me, wondering what to do next. Soon, everyone else follows.
My brain knows enough to force my body back toward the front of the class, but I’m so shocked at Kris’s arrival that my mind goes blank. I stare into the mirror while the music plays and my vision goes blurry, obscuring everything in my peripheral vision until all I see is my own pale face, watching me in horror from the other side of the mirror.
“You okay, Delaney?” A small Hispanic woman asks me from the front row. She’s a regular in my class, showing up early every week to ensure her front row spot. She touches my arm as the music slows to the last few beats before the song is over. “You look sick,” she says.
I shake my head and force a smile. “I’m fine,” I say, deciding to use her observation as the perfect excuse. “I just got dizzy for a moment, but I’m better now.” It’s a lie but it’s better than admitting to everyone that my boss just walked in and now my knees are weak and my face is flushed and it’s not from the dancing.
The next song begins and it’s a fast-paced hip-hop track that requires lots of booty shaking and hip thrusts. Booty shaking is my absolute favorite thing in this class and this is one of my favorite songs. I begin side lunges to the rhythm all while trying not to look at Kris in the mirror. I’m a total failure though because I look at him. And he is looking straight at me while he makes a perfectly executed side lunge.
I take in a sharp breath, hoping no one notices the trembling in my fingers and the pounding of my heart against my chest. My mind goes haywire—all my thoughts are static and fuzzy and somehow painful at the same time.
All my regulars are in class today. The atmosphere overflows with enthusiasm for a night of fun dancing and a hardcore calorie burn. I head to the front of the dance room and queue up my mp3 player to tonight’s playlist on the big stereo system, anxious to let my body move and my mind take a break from thinking about Kris.
He wasn’t at the gym when I arrived a few minutes ago, and if all goes as it has for the last twelve days, he won’t bother showing up this late. My guess is that he’s working only in the day shift now, or possibly not at all since the place runs itself just fine without him. But who cares what he does; the only thing I care about is the next sixty minutes of carefree sexy aerobics.
The warm up song, a naughty R&B track, begins and I lead the class in slow hip circle stretches and deep lunges. My muscles unwind and my body falls into step with the music. Halfway through the song, I’m feeling both sexy and relaxed. The door at the back of the room swings open with a screech, and I try not to get distracted from the late comers by keeping my eyes closed as I squat down low, arch my back and bring it up slowly.
“Three more, ladies,” I say in a soothing voice, directing them on what to do for the ending of the song. As I lean back into the second squat, my eyes open. I study the mirrors in front of me to make sure everyone is in sync. My arms stretch in front of me for balance as my ass pokes out as far and low as I can go, which luckily is farther and lower than anyone else in class is. I don’t need my students upstaging me.
When I arch my back and slowly rise out of the squat, a bright white shirt catches my attention from the back corner of the dance room. My muscles tense, freezing me in a half squat as I blink to make sure the reflection in the mirror isn’t just a mirage.
Kris Payne positions himself at the back of the room, legs shoulder width apart and ass bent into a squatting position. Still caught in disbelief, I whip around and see him with my own eyes and not through a mirror’s reflection. A few people in the front row rise from their squat and stare at me, wondering what to do next. Soon, everyone else follows.
My brain knows enough to force my body back toward the front of the class, but I’m so shocked at Kris’s arrival that my mind goes blank. I stare into the mirror while the music plays and my vision goes blurry, obscuring everything in my peripheral vision until all I see is my own pale face, watching me in horror from the other side of the mirror.
“You okay, Delaney?” A small Hispanic woman asks me from the front row. She’s a regular in my class, showing up early every week to ensure her front row spot. She touches my arm as the music slows to the last few beats before the song is over. “You look sick,” she says.
I shake my head and force a smile. “I’m fine,” I say, deciding to use her observation as the perfect excuse. “I just got dizzy for a moment, but I’m better now.” It’s a lie but it’s better than admitting to everyone that my boss just walked in and now my knees are weak and my face is flushed and it’s not from the dancing.
The next song begins and it’s a fast-paced hip-hop track that requires lots of booty shaking and hip thrusts. Booty shaking is my absolute favorite thing in this class and this is one of my favorite songs. I begin side lunges to the rhythm all while trying not to look at Kris in the mirror. I’m a total failure though because I look at him. And he is looking straight at me while he makes a perfectly executed side lunge.
I take in a sharp breath, hoping no one notices the trembling in my fingers and the pounding of my heart against my chest. My mind goes haywire—all my thoughts are static and fuzzy and somehow painful at the same time.
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