Boom. Left foot back.
Boom. Rock on the right.
Boom. Left foot again.
The beat of the salsa began to continue, zooming away faster than you could practice to, and you couldn’t rock on your left heel fast enough, as you held out your hands and danced with an imaginary partner that you pictured looked a lot like your Antonio, who was out getting groceries.
You tightened the ponytail you had tied your hair back in and tsked to yourself, walking over to the stereo-radio player you had received as a gift from your mother ages ago and never, ever gotten rid of. It was the Holy Grail in this house, Antonio used it to play the Spanish radio and listen to the soccer games, Romano and Feliciano used it to play their soft pop songs whenever they came over, Francis for his romance songs, Gilbert for his punk and metal, and you?
You used it for dancing practice, whenever nobody was around.
A push of the button and the track restarted, as you positioned yourself to begin, putting your game face on and your hands up loosely, miming as if you were dancing with someone, and readied yourself during the moment before the song began again.
Left foot, right heel, left foot again, hold, heel, right foot, rock on the left, forward on the right, spread out the left…
“Yes!” you whispered to yourself and stopped yourself before you lost your balance on the hardwood floor in your little polka-dot socks, and fist pumped to the air. Finally, you were getting the hang of this dance. You were going to wow people when you showed them now.
“That’s a nice dance, chica. Were you planning to show me anytime soon?”
You turned with eyes wide and ice replacing blood as you saw Antonio leaning on the doorframe to the living that you were practicing in, a bag of groceries in one hand as his arms were crossed and he had the cutest smirk on his face, his brown hair getting in his eyes as he blew it away with a puff of breath.
“Oh. Hi.” You said, plastering an embarrassed grin on your face as you felt blood rise to your cheeks, and all the grace you thought you had, all the poise you had achieved from practicing, all of the finesse had gone out the window along with your dignity as you stood there guiltily in front of your boyfriend as the salsa continued playing in the background.
“Hi,” he chuckled, shoulders shaking from amusement, and you put a sheepish grin on your face.
“There’s just one thing I think that you’re doing wrong.” He said, holding up a finger as he placed down the groceries and walked towards you, and your blush increased as he stopped in front of you, took your hands in his, and smiled down at you innocently. The look in his eyes told you a different story.
“What’s that?” you asked, trying to keep your thudding heartbeat at a steady pace, unlike the beat of the song.
He leaned down to whisper it to you before he kissed you and then began the dance with you in time with the beat.
“You weren’t practicing with me.”