The Matchmaker of Decaydance
In the Ballroom
**QUICK NOTE: if you want to see clips of what Alana and Mark can do, go to these urls:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9A_v-L1dRo&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3rSz9hiLX0&feature=related
There are really good salsa bits in there.**
Mark and I headed to the lounge with our bags. I pulled Pete’s sweater over my costume and ordered a turkey sandwich from the little deli.
“I think that went well.”
“Being that we got a 9.8, I do too.”
I took my sandwich and sat across from Mark at a table.
“I think we could have been a little more solid on the lift, though.”
“Maybe that was the .2 that we missed,” Mark said.
My phone vibrated in the pocket of the sweater, loud enough for Mark to hear.
“Is that the boy toy?”
“Sometimes I swear you’re a flamer. Technically, he’s not my boy toy. And yes, that was him.”
You were amazing. When can I see you? the text message read.
I could just see Gabe now, wandering around the lobby of the ballroom, lost in the sea of washed-up dancers that had come to see the show.
5 minutes. Don’t go anywhere.
I started scarfing my sandwich down, then looked up to see Mark staring at me with an amused look. I sighed and in between bites relayed my vision of Gabe to him.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, he’s not really the type to be hanging around here. He’s probably wearing skinny jeans, the white Yankees hat, a vibrantly colored shirt, and his Justin Timberlake chain.”
Mark almost choked on his food. “You’re fooling around with Gabe Saporta?” he asked, almost incredulous.
“You know about him?”
“I really like Cobra Starship. They‘ve got great music. Gabe looks like he’s got some Latin background.”
“That’s because he does. He grew up in Uruguay. He told me about how he watched the tango and salsa dancers in Montevideo when he was a little kid.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I taught him how briefly last night. He was pretty good at picking it up.”
“As good as me?” Mark asked slyly.
“Jeez, no. You’ve been dancing for how long? And I just taught him last night.” I shoved the last bite of my sandwich away and crumpled the plastic wrapper it came in. “I’m going to go collect him.”
“Can I meet you guys out there in a bit? I was going to go get our next time and stuff.”
“Sure. Thanks, Mark.” I tossed the wrapper in the garbage and left the lounge. As I approached the lobby, I started watching for a tall person in a white hat. There he was, standing around, looking clueless. He was wearing hot pink skinny jeans that stood out incredibly well, just like the white and neon green tee that clung closely to his torso. Before he saw me, I crept up behind him and jumped on his back.
“Ah, shit!” he cried.
“Gabe, it’s just me.”
“For a second I thought is was some random preppy dancer fan person.”
“A random preppy dancer fan person? How could you confuse me with one of those?” I slid off of his back and landed in front of him, my arms still around his shoulders.
“I shouldn’t have. You’re too damn good for that.”
I smiled. Gabe just kept staring at me, and I stared at him back.
“Damn,” he finally said.
“What?”
He kissed me, and I immediately deepened it, running my fingers through his hair.
“Sometimes I can’t resist you.”
“Hey, Alana?” I heard Mark’s voice call.
“Yeah?”
“We dance in an hour,” Mark said as he came up to us. “I’m assuming you’re Gabe?”
“Yeah, man.” Gabe smiled and held his hand out for Mark to shake.
“This is Mark. I’ve been dancing with him since we were fourteen.”
“You guys were fantastic.” Gabe’s hands fell from my hips. “If you need to go, I’ll let you.”
“That’s probably a good idea. I’ll see you after our next one.”
“Bye, babe.” He gave me a quick kiss, then headed back towards the ballroom stands.
“Ooh la la, Alana.”
“Hush, Mark. You’re just jealous.” We made our way back to the warmup room. “So are we using the ‘Fuego’ routine or the ‘Honey White’ one?”
“I think we should leave Fuego for last. It’s definitely our best one.”
“I agree.” I grabbed the stereo that the ballroom had lent us and popped in a CD from my bag. The saxophones of one of my favorite broken-up bands, Morphine, filled our section of the room. I ran over to Mark and we started to rehearse once more.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9A_v-L1dRo&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3rSz9hiLX0&feature=related
There are really good salsa bits in there.**
Mark and I headed to the lounge with our bags. I pulled Pete’s sweater over my costume and ordered a turkey sandwich from the little deli.
“I think that went well.”
“Being that we got a 9.8, I do too.”
I took my sandwich and sat across from Mark at a table.
“I think we could have been a little more solid on the lift, though.”
“Maybe that was the .2 that we missed,” Mark said.
My phone vibrated in the pocket of the sweater, loud enough for Mark to hear.
“Is that the boy toy?”
“Sometimes I swear you’re a flamer. Technically, he’s not my boy toy. And yes, that was him.”
You were amazing. When can I see you? the text message read.
I could just see Gabe now, wandering around the lobby of the ballroom, lost in the sea of washed-up dancers that had come to see the show.
5 minutes. Don’t go anywhere.
I started scarfing my sandwich down, then looked up to see Mark staring at me with an amused look. I sighed and in between bites relayed my vision of Gabe to him.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, he’s not really the type to be hanging around here. He’s probably wearing skinny jeans, the white Yankees hat, a vibrantly colored shirt, and his Justin Timberlake chain.”
Mark almost choked on his food. “You’re fooling around with Gabe Saporta?” he asked, almost incredulous.
“You know about him?”
“I really like Cobra Starship. They‘ve got great music. Gabe looks like he’s got some Latin background.”
“That’s because he does. He grew up in Uruguay. He told me about how he watched the tango and salsa dancers in Montevideo when he was a little kid.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I taught him how briefly last night. He was pretty good at picking it up.”
“As good as me?” Mark asked slyly.
“Jeez, no. You’ve been dancing for how long? And I just taught him last night.” I shoved the last bite of my sandwich away and crumpled the plastic wrapper it came in. “I’m going to go collect him.”
“Can I meet you guys out there in a bit? I was going to go get our next time and stuff.”
“Sure. Thanks, Mark.” I tossed the wrapper in the garbage and left the lounge. As I approached the lobby, I started watching for a tall person in a white hat. There he was, standing around, looking clueless. He was wearing hot pink skinny jeans that stood out incredibly well, just like the white and neon green tee that clung closely to his torso. Before he saw me, I crept up behind him and jumped on his back.
“Ah, shit!” he cried.
“Gabe, it’s just me.”
“For a second I thought is was some random preppy dancer fan person.”
“A random preppy dancer fan person? How could you confuse me with one of those?” I slid off of his back and landed in front of him, my arms still around his shoulders.
“I shouldn’t have. You’re too damn good for that.”
I smiled. Gabe just kept staring at me, and I stared at him back.
“Damn,” he finally said.
“What?”
He kissed me, and I immediately deepened it, running my fingers through his hair.
“Sometimes I can’t resist you.”
“Hey, Alana?” I heard Mark’s voice call.
“Yeah?”
“We dance in an hour,” Mark said as he came up to us. “I’m assuming you’re Gabe?”
“Yeah, man.” Gabe smiled and held his hand out for Mark to shake.
“This is Mark. I’ve been dancing with him since we were fourteen.”
“You guys were fantastic.” Gabe’s hands fell from my hips. “If you need to go, I’ll let you.”
“That’s probably a good idea. I’ll see you after our next one.”
“Bye, babe.” He gave me a quick kiss, then headed back towards the ballroom stands.
“Ooh la la, Alana.”
“Hush, Mark. You’re just jealous.” We made our way back to the warmup room. “So are we using the ‘Fuego’ routine or the ‘Honey White’ one?”
“I think we should leave Fuego for last. It’s definitely our best one.”
“I agree.” I grabbed the stereo that the ballroom had lent us and popped in a CD from my bag. The saxophones of one of my favorite broken-up bands, Morphine, filled our section of the room. I ran over to Mark and we started to rehearse once more.
♠ ♠ ♠
kind of a crappy ending to the chapter, I know. blecch.AND if you want a clip of all of these songs I'm using, go on your music downloading thingy and check them out. I love them all.