I sat underneath the twinkling lights that had been draped around the large outdoor patio of the cantina, listening to the fast paced salsa music that filled the air. Couples danced and swirled on the floor in front of me, their bodies meshed together in a seamless blur of color.
I sat back in my wicker chair, pressing my strawberry lemonade to my lips. The sun was setting behind the mountains that surrounded the city, giving a soft yellow glow to the sky. It touched the facades of the buildings and kissed them into a honey color that glowed from the inside out. I had never seen a city that was so unique and beautiful, I was in love.
Even though the sun was setting, the temperature hadn’t dropped. My hoodie felt heavy and hot against my skin, a thin layer of sweat building up on my neck. I was contemplating taking it off, but didn’t want to be the recipient of the ‘told you so’ look from Ilyan. Though the thought of dying from heat stroke due to my own stubbornness scared me. I took another sip of lemonade; at least I could keep myself hydrated.
I shifted my hoodie a bit to help the airflow, but I was still uncomfortable. I glanced to Ilyan hoping he hadn’t seen me fidget. Luckily he was still intently watching the dancers on the dance floor.
He looked completely out of place in this melee of noise and color. The rugged lines of his face caught in the lights, giving him an ethereal hue almost as if he himself was glowing. He sat in his chair, smiling serenely. It was a stark contrast to the drunken, boisterous group we were surrounded by.
He turned and caught me staring at him, so I smiled brightly and turned back to the dancers, feeling strangely odd about being caught looking at him. I heard him chuckle and he returned back to his glass of wine.
The waitress had looked at him like he had lost it when we ordered and he requested wine instead of the obligatory tequila. Ilyan had only raised an eyebrow, sending the girl to retrieve wine I am sure hadn’t been in their stock before then.
“Come on, Siln?." Ilyan’s hand jutted into the space in front of me. “Let’s dance."
"Oh, no," I said, sinking into the chair. "I don’t dance."
Ilyan bent down slightly, bringing his eyes closer to my eye level. "Don’t dance, or don’t know how?"
"Both, considering the last time I was on a dance floor didn’t end so well." My insides scrambled together at the thought of Ryland’s graduation party, my first and only kiss, and then the disastrous failed rescue mission that followed.
“Yes, I know. I was there.”
“Then you know why I don’t want to participate,” I said smugly, hoping he would walk away.
He didn’t.
His lips pulled up into a half smile, his eyes twinkling.
“Would it help if I told you I invented the Salsa?”
“You did not,” I said, trying to restrain a smile. His eyes lit up as he laughed, his hand still jutting toward me unwavering.
“Well no, but I have been dancing it since it was invented. Come, let me show you.” Ilyan wrapped his hand under my arm and pulled me up.
“I’d rather not.” I stepped away from him, but he mirrored my movements.
“I won’t hurt you, Joclyn,” he promised. “And if you don’t dance with me, I’ll be forced to take away your win and we will have to stay in the apartment for an additional week.”
My jaw dropped a bit. Ilyan only smiled more. Although I would normally have guessed it to be an empty threat, I didn’t want to take the chance. I plopped my hand down in his and rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the smile that lit up his face.
Ilyan led me onto the middle of the dance floor, and I tried to ignore the stabbing pain that being on another dance floor was giving me. The swirling and moving couples made way for us as we weaved through them, until Ilyan had placed us directly in the middle, the cobweb of lights zigzagging over our heads.
Ilyan took my hand in his and brought our joined hands up to eye level. His other hand brought mine up to his arm before moving to rest lightly on my back. He looked at me intently as the music flowed around us. I could have sworn he was waiting for me to move first, but there was no way that was going to happen. I rolled my eyes at him and went to drop my hands but he held onto me tighter.
“Follow the way my feet move,” he began. “Mine move forward. Yours move back. Watch.”
I looked down, nerves rising as I watched his feet move smoothly across the floor. I tried to follow, but it was harder than I thought it would be. Ilyan made it look easy.
I missed my long board. I could control that perfectly, and I was sure Ilyan would fall off after about ten feet. I smiled at the thought and missed a beat. My supporting foot rolling and my other one kicking him in the ankle. I was no good at this. I swore loudly and tried to pull away, but Ilyan increased his grip and pulled me back, crashing my body into his.