You had never been much of a dancer, but when Elizabeth mentioned she was taking a modern dance class, you thought—why not? What could go wrong?

The moment you stepped into the studio, the polished wooden floors gleamed under the soft overhead lights, and mirrors lined the walls, reflecting everyone’s awkward attempts at coordination. Elizabeth was already there, stretching like a pro, her long limbs moving effortlessly. You, on the other hand, felt like a newborn giraffe trying to figure out gravity.

“Hey! You made it!” she said, grinning as soon as she noticed you. “Hope you’re ready to embarrass yourself with me.”

You laughed nervously. “Oh, I plan to set a new world record for worst dancer.”

She chuckled, walking over to you. “Don’t worry. I’ll save you… maybe.” Her teasing tone sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature.

The class began with simple warm-ups. You tried to mimic her moves, but somehow every stretch felt like it had a mind of its own. You wobbled, tripped over your own feet, and at one point nearly collided with a ballet barre. Elizabeth noticed immediately, biting her lip to suppress a laugh.

“You’re… something else,” she said, sidestepping you gracefully. “Here, let me help.”

She placed her hands lightly on your shoulders to steady you, and you couldn’t help but notice how close you were. The scent of her perfume—light, floral—made your head spin. “Thanks,” you muttered, suddenly aware that your face was probably as red as a tomato.

The lesson progressed into a partner exercise. Your hearts raced in sync as she held your hand, guiding you through a complicated spin. You stumbled, caught yourself, and ended up stepping on her foot. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

Elizabeth laughed, the sound bright and musical. “It’s fine! You’ve got spirit… even if your feet are… a little dangerous.”