Chapter 3: The Tango Problem

By the fourth day of training, Nadia had discovered something important.

Learning ice dance wasn't the hard part.

The hard part was Dominic.

Not because he was difficult.

At least not in the way people claimed.

The problem was that he noticed everything.

Every mistake.

Every hesitation.

Every tiny adjustment she made without realizing it.

"Again," he said.

"We've done this section twelve times."

"Eleven."

"That's not better."

"Again."

Nadia groaned dramatically.

"One day I'm going to hide your skates."

"You'd return them."

"How do you know?"

"Because you take skating too seriously."

"That might be the first insult you've ever given me."

"Observation. Not insult."

She rolled her eyes.

Then pushed off and repeated the sequence.

The problem wasn't the steps.

She already knew the steps.

The problem was the performance.

More specifically, the tango.

Coach Irina had selected a tango rhythm dance for their competition program.

On paper, it was perfect.

Sharp.

Elegant.

Powerful.

In reality, it wasn't working.

"Stop."

Dominic's voice echoed across the rink.

Nadia came to a halt.

"Now what?"

"You're thinking too much."

"I always think too much."

"Exactly."

"Helpful."

Dominic skated toward her.

"The steps are correct."

"Good."

"The timing is correct."

"Even better."

"But the program feels empty."

Nadia frowned.

"Empty?"

"Like you're completing instructions instead of telling a story."

"It's a dance competition, not theater."

"It's both."

"I hate when you're right."

"I've noticed."

She folded her arms.

"Then explain it."

Dominic looked surprised.

"Explain what?"

"The tango."

"You know what a tango is."

"I know the technical definition."

"That's not the same thing."

"Exactly."

For a moment he was silent.

Like he was deciding how much of himself he wanted to reveal.

Finally he sighed.

"The tango is tension."

"Meaning?"

"Two people moving toward each other and away from each other at the same time."

Nadia blinked.

"That's confusing."

"It is."

"Great explanation."

"It's not supposed to be simple."

He moved into position.

"Come here."

Nadia obeyed.

The dance hold placed them only inches apart.

Close enough to notice details.

Close enough to notice his steady breathing.

Close enough to notice the faint scar near his jaw she'd never seen before.

"Look at me," Dominic said.

"I am looking at you."

"No. You're looking through me."

The comment landed harder than she expected.

"What's the difference?"

"Focus."

"That's vague."

"It's accurate."

Nadia stared directly into his eyes.

Gray.

Almost silver under the rink lights.

"Now what?"

"Now skate."

The music started.

Slowly they moved across the ice.

This time Nadia followed his instructions.

Not the choreography.

Him.

His movements.

His reactions.

The subtle pressure changes in his hand.

The shifts in timing.

The connection between them.

Something changed.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

The dance suddenly felt alive.

Like a conversation instead of a routine.

When the music stopped, neither of them spoke immediately.

"There," Dominic said quietly.

"That felt different."

"Because it was."

"What exactly changed?"

"You stopped skating alone."

Nadia looked away first.

For some reason, his answer made her uncomfortable.

Not because it was wrong.

Because it was right.

✦ ✦ ✦

Later that afternoon, they reviewed footage from the session.

The academy kept cameras around the rink for performance analysis.

Normally Nadia hated watching herself skate.

Every athlete had insecurities.

Video footage highlighted all of them.

Still, she sat beside Dominic in the viewing room.

The screen played their latest run.

"Pause it," Nadia said suddenly.

Dominic stopped the video.

"What?"

"Right there."

She pointed toward the screen.

"That's the moment."

"Which moment?"

"When it started working."

The image showed them in tango hold.

Both focused entirely on each other.

The difference was obvious.

Even frozen on a screen.

"Interesting," Dominic said.

"That's all? Interesting?"

"What would you prefer?"

"Maybe a little excitement."

"Why?"

"Because we solved the problem."

He studied the image.

"One problem."

"You really don't celebrate anything, do you?"

"Not until the competition."

"You're exhausting."

"I've also heard that before."

Nadia laughed.

The sound surprised both of them.

Lately she seemed to laugh more around him.

That probably wasn't a good sign.

✦ ✦ ✦

That evening, Nadia stayed longer than usual.

Most of the rink had emptied out.

Only a few skaters remained.

She sat alone in the stands watching younger athletes practice.

"You're still here."

Dominic's voice came from behind her.

"Observant as always."

"You normally leave immediately."

"Maybe I didn't want to go home yet."

He sat beside her.

Not too close.

Not far away either.

For several minutes they watched in silence.

A young skater landed a jump and immediately fell afterward.

Nadia smiled.

"I used to do that."

"Everyone did."

"Not you."

"Definitely me."

She looked at him skeptically.

"I don't believe that."

"I fell constantly when I was sixteen."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"This information changes everything."

"Why?"

"Because now I know you're human."

Dominic laughed.

Actually laughed.

The sound caught Nadia completely off guard.

It transformed him.

Made him younger somehow.

Less controlled.

More real.

For a moment she simply stared.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"You laughed."

"And?"

"I wasn't sure you knew how."

Another smile appeared.

Small but genuine.

"Careful," he said.

"About what?"

"You're starting to like me."

Nadia immediately stood.

"Goodnight, Dominic."

"Goodnight, Nadia."

She walked away before he could see her smile.

Unfortunately, she couldn't stop thinking about his words.

Because for the first time since this partnership began, she wasn't completely sure he was wrong.