7
Monday rolls around and my ankle is still tender but well enough to dance on as long as I have it taped. I'm shocked when I discover Anna and her fiancé, Will, have flown in to surprise me.
"Who needs family when you have us?" Anna gushes, giving me a tight hug.
"You guys are the best."
"Thank Will. It was his idea."
"I take it back. Will, you're the best." I hug him too.
Anna gives me the once over from my fake eyelashes down to my taped feet. "Look at you in that dress. Can you even call that a dress?"
"I know. I hate it." It's a revealing cha cha dress with tight bodice, high cut legs, and generous layers of ruffles on my behind.
"Are you kidding? You look phenomenal, like a Vegas showgirl. You're all legs, and they shimmer," Anna says, stepping back for a better look.
"That's a makeup trick. They apply the shimmer right before the show, otherwise, every time I sit down, I slide off the chair because my legs are so slippery."
"Oh, the problems you have," Will laughs.
We're interrupted by an intern, and Anna and Will are shooed away to take their seats. I walk away grinning. They came for family night.
When it's Dominic’s and my turn to dance, I brace myself for the video package. It shows my sprained ankle injury and ugly feet, but also lots of the two of us laughing. It's the perfect way to relax me before going on.
"Let's go killer," Dominic says as we take our position. Our cha cha goes well with me shaking my ruffles to maximum effect. I have a couple small flubs, but am having such a blast that I don't care. The judges don't seem to mind either.
"It was the night of hot and cold, and you two are definitely hot," says enthusiastic judge Brice Zimmer.
Our scores are solid, middle of the pack. I'm even happier watching Hank and Sonya. She's created a dance where he's in an old folks home and she's a naughty nurse. They dance and slide around with his walker. It's hilarious. But after that, Vicky, the volleyball player, and her partner Carlos take the stage. It's evident right away that something's wrong. Vicky is sluggish with her steps. They're dancing the waltz, so it's not that complicated, but it's like Carlos is trying to push around a box of rocks. He holds her closer and literally carries her through the moves while she laughs. At one point, she pushes away from him for a simple turn, then trips and lands on the dance floor in a pool of chiffon. Carlos glances nervously at the judges' table as Vicky rearranges her dress. By the time he gets her back to her feet, the music has ended. The audience claps politely as the pair makes their way to the judges.
"Oh my God, what's wrong with her?" I ask.
Hank chuckles. "That girl is higher than a kite."
I stare at him. "On pot?"
"I'd bet my belt buckle she's been popping something a whole lot stronger."
"Poor Carlos," Dominic pipes in.
Carlos faces the judges with his jaw clenched and face red with embarrassment. Droopy-eyed Vicky leans on Marcus. She wipes her hand at a stray lock of hair, smearing lipstick across her cheek.
It's like watching a train wreck. I'm guilty of a pre-show shot of bourbon with Hank each week, but nothing more.
The judges glance at each other uncomfortably and rush through their comments saying things like. "Unfortunate fall" and "must not be feeling well."
Marcus takes the show to commercial as Carlos helps a boneless Vicky off stage. When the show comes back, Julie Mason reveals their scores, even though the dancers are nowhere to be seen. They get two fives and a four.
Dominic's eyes lock with mine and we grin like a couple of fools.
* * *
"Week five, baby!" Dominic high-fives me first thing the next morning.
"I still can't believe this."
"I love it. All we have to do is let the other teams melt down or get injured and we stay in the game."
"Best strategy I've heard so far." I drop my bag in the corner, still not fully awake after a late night hanging out with Anna and Will.
"You ready to work? Because I think you're going to like what I've come up with for your song."
I nod. I'm a little nervous about it, but more excited. It's a beautiful, poignant song.
"Because it's a contemporary number, we can do as many lifts as we want."
"As in you lifting me?" I imagine him straining to heft me up, and grimace. "I don't want to."
"Tough. You're going to."
"But I'm heavy, and I have no experience doing anything like that."
Dominic laughs. "First off, you're a light weight. Second, everything about this show has been a first for you, third, the viewers love lifts and tricks."
He walks me through the opening steps until I get a feel for the rhythm of the choreography. The first lift he teaches me, I struggle, all gawky arms and legs.
"Good first try, but you're like a monkey trying to cling to my back. Relax. I will never let you fall. Try it again."
I do, and it's better, but it's strange being so close, usually it's just our hands touching each other, but this is full-body contact. I'm wearing my practice clothes, which are black dance shorts, along with a cute, strappy top. I mess up and slide off his shoulder, accidentally kicking him in the groin.
Dominic drops to the floor like a turtle retracting into its shell.
"I am so sorry!" I cry.
"It's fine," he groans through gritted teeth.
I reach out to pat his shoulder then pull back, because I'm not sure I should touch him during a situation like this. I glance at the producer and he's cringing as if he's the one that got the pot shot. The camera is focused on Dominic curled up in a ball. I can't help myself. I burst out laughing.
"You're evil."
"It's your fault. If you didn't insist on the lifts, this wouldn't have happened."
"Ha ha," he mutters, now on his hands and knees catching his breath. "I will get you for this."
We take a short break, and when we resume, Dominic, the slave driver, has us back at the hard tricks again. By 6 p.m. I'm bruised and sore from my gaffs and his firm grabs that save me from hitting the hardwood.
"Tomorrow will be better," he promises.
And it is. We try what we know with the music I chose, which adds an emotional backdrop for our lyrical moves. I love it so much and vow to work harder to get the lifts right. The one I'm most afraid of is where he wants me to take a running leap from the upper stage and land in his arms where he's waiting on the dance floor below.
"It's only about three feet," he says, as I bite my lip and consider the odds that he can actually hold all my body weight when I dead drop into him. "Come on, you big chicken. Do it."
"Is this the part where you get back at me?" The visual of slamming into the floor has me clammy with fear.
"No, but that's an excellent idea."
I gulp.
After a couple false starts, Dominic moves closer. I take the three-step run and leap out across the steps. Dominic catches me midair, turns smoothly, and gently sets me down where I spin away.
"Whoa! That's wild." I grin.
"You like it?"
"Sort of. It's scary. Can we do it again?"
He laughs knowingly.
We practice it several more times. Dominic must be exhausted from all the abuse of my body landing in his outstretched arms, but he never complains. I'm getting bruises from ribs to thighs from the impact.
By Sunday's camera marking, we're doing well other than the fact Dominic keeps pushing me to show more emotion. I'm trying, but exposing my heart is difficult for me. When it's time for our run though, I head out of my trailer and run into Dominic.
"You ready?" He falls into step beside me.
"I think so, but why are we scheduled so early?"
Dominic holds the sound stage door open. "I have a surprise for you, and it means we're going to need some extra time before camera blocking."
"Uh, oh." I study his face for answers, but he gives up nothing.
"Relax, you're going to love it." He grins.
My shoulders stiffen as I brace for whatever new torture Dominic has come up with. We cross backstage and onto the actual ballroom area where tech guys and cameramen are in various areas working on the new lighting and sets for tomorrow's show. Up on the raised section of the stage where I'm to make my leap into Dominic's arms, there's a grand piano and the head producer, Larry, talking to a guy with his back to us.
"Ah, here they are," Larry says when he spots us.
The stranger turns and I'm stunned to find it's the guy who performed the song on YouTube. He's tall and lean with medium blonde hair, feathery eyebrows, and friendly blue eyes.
Larry says, "Dominic, Chelsea, I'd like you to meet Thomas Evan Oliver."
Thomas reaches his hand out to Dominic. "Call me Tom," he says and they shake, and then he extends his hand to me.
I blurt, "I'm a huge fan!"
His hand is warm and firm. I'm meeting the actual guy who sang “Stay” on that old TV show, and now he's here.
"I'm a big fan of your show too," he says with a British accent and an endearing smile.
Glancing at Dominic, I mouth, oh my God! He grins.
"Tom's starring in the show Crossing Lines on Broadway and we didn't know we'd be able to get him until the last minute," Larry says. "Lucky for us, he's agreed to sing the track for your dance tonight. Tom, if there's anything you need, just let me or one of the assistants know."
"Thanks, Larry." Tom turns to us as the producer leaves. "Thanks for inviting me to your show. I was surprised when I got the call."
I'm fixated by the sound of his accent. The way he pronounces his words is like a gorgeous melody. He's so friendly and at ease, while my heart is ricocheting out of my chest.
"We're honored to have you," Dominic says, leaning against the piano.
"I recorded "Stay" for a TV show quite a while back. I had to dig deep in my memory banks and dust it off," Tom laughs.
I'm officially in love with his voice and he hasn't even sung yet.
"When I asked Chelsea to select a song that had significance to her, she knew right away that it was "Stay,"" Dominic explains.
Tom directs his attention to me. "Then I guess all my thanks go to you."
He smiles and something about the curve of his mouth and the light in his eyes makes my insides all jittery. I'm tongue tied and not sure what to say, but Dominic saves me.
"We're on a tight schedule, so we should probably get started."
"Right, then." Tom takes a seat behind the piano, flexes and wiggles his fingers. "Do you have a tempo in mind?"
Dominic gives him the tempo and turns to me. "Chelsea, we'll just mark it the first time to see where we have tempo issues."
We move to our spots on the main floor. Tom takes his cue from Dominic and plays the intro. I can't believe the actual, live and in person, Thomas Evan Oliver is only a few feet away and performing the anthem of my life. He begins to sing, and rich, full tones fill the room. I look at Dominic and my mouth drops open. Dominic is equally impressed and has to nudge me to remember what I'm supposed to be doing.
We mark through the number, including the lifts, and stop right before the final leap from the raised stage, mostly because it takes a lot of energy and it's easier to skip it. Dominic confers with Tom on tempo. "Let's try it again. Chelsea, this time let's go full out."
I nod.
Tom plays again. The tempo begins slow, and I focus on the dance. We get to the first lift and I give it my all so Dominic doesn't have to work harder than necessary to hoist me over his head. It's exhilarating to spin up high in the air, and then in one fluid motion, he pushes me away, and I land on my feet.
The tempo builds and I try to lose myself in the dance, but something isn't right. I can't get into it and misstep, Dominic puts his hand up for Tom to stop. "What's wrong?" Dominic asks.
"I don't know. I can't get into the feel of it." All eyes are on me, from Tom behind the piano, to the cameras guys observing our rehearsal, to Dominic who has become adept at reading my emotions.
"You've been fine all week. What's different now?" he asks.
"I'm sorry. Let's try it again." I take my starting spot and try to brush off the vibe.
"Is it having Tom here?" Dominic says under his breath with a shit eatin' grin, aware that this stranger affects me.
I glance up, and Tom is pretending to examine the lighting tresses. "Yeah, actually, it is. He's not singing it the same as the recording we've rehearsed to."
Dominic stares at me like I'm out of my mind. "Are you saying you'd rather use a taped version instead of it being performed live by the original artist?"
"No! It's just that he needs to sing it with more emotion."
Tom laughs. "I'm right here. You can tell me what you need."
My face burns with embarrassment, but I really want this dance to be right. We join him at the piano. He looks at me expectantly.
"You're amazing. You really are," I exclaim.
He's fighting back a smile. "Thank you, but..." he draws out the word and pauses.
Here I am, Miss Midwest nobody, about to give him singing tips. "But, there's not enough... you know." I use my hands for emphasis.
His brow furrows. "I'm not sure I do."
"You're singing like we're at a concert or something. It needs more... more..." I struggle to find the right words, so I swing my arms some more. "Oomph."
He nods, his expression serious. "More oomph."
Dominic snickers, but Tom doesn't even twitch. He just waits for my explanation.
I look to the heavens, wishing I knew how to express myself. "I'm sorry. I don't know the lingo. And I shouldn't be telling you what to do." I wring my hands and my eyes dart from Tom, to the piano, to the dance floor, and back to him. "You're the professional and you obviously know more than me, and here I am telling you what to do when I don't really have a clue anyway."
I'm babbling, and I can't stop myself, and Thomas Evan Oliver is staring in fascination like I'm a trick dog doing back flips. But instead of shutting my mouth, I speed up.
"And I'm wasting your time. You dropped everything to fly across the country for this." And then it occurs to me he had to miss work to be here. Is the show paying him? "Oh, God, I hope you're getting paid. Are you getting paid?" I turn to Dominic. "Is he getting paid?"
Tom laughs. "Yes, I'm getting paid."
I whip back around. "That's good. I hope it's a lot, cause I'm not getting very much. But I'm nobody, and you're somebody, and you deserve a lot." I turn to Dominic with pleading eyes. "Oh, God, Dominic, please make me shut up."
Dominic holds back his laughter. "Nope. I think you're doing great."
I spin back to Tom who is as entertained as Dominic. "It's just that I really want this to be right. It needs," I wave my arms in the air, Tom's eyes follow my flailing hands. "You know, like, passion."
His eyes widen, as if I've said a dirty word.
"Not like sexy, smexy passion, but more... you know. Oomphy passion, like from the gut, the deep stuff that rips you apart." My hands are fisted as I make churning motions. "You know?"
Tom nods to appease me, but it also looks like he's biting his cheek so he won't burst out laughing.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry." I throw my arms in the air. "Sing it any way you like. I'm fine. Really." I hug myself and fight the urge to curl into the fetal position.
"No. It's okay," Tom says. "This is your dance, your big night. I'm just a guest here and I want to help you do great."
Dominic, with his eyes laughing at me, nods in agreement.
Tom continues. "So let me get this straight. You want passion. Not the sexy, smexy kind. You want the oomphy kind."
Dominic snorts.
I glare at him. "I hate you," I mutter under my breath.
Tom laughs and then catches himself. I realize he has dimples. I never knew dimples in a guy could be so attractive. I try to look away, but then he says, "Let me see what I can do. How about this?"
Tom loses his grin and takes a deep breath. And in an instant, it's like he's switched channels and gone somewhere else. He begins to play. His demeanor is different. His playing sounds more thoughtful, and his voice takes on an emotional tone. I'm frozen in place listening.
The song builds into a heart-wrenching anthem. The anguish in his voice rings strong and true. I witness actual sadness in his eyes. He hits the climax, the money notes, and the brilliant haunting sound gives me goose bumps. He's transported me back to that devastating day when my life fell apart.
I cover my mouth in awe of how easily he tapped into such an emotional place. He solemnly plays the final chords and his eyes lock with mine. For a split second it's as if he's peeking into my soul and has seen things no one else should.
I'm speechless.
"How was that, love?" he asks softly, holding my gaze.
But there are no words for the gorgeous performance he just delivered. And I can't break his look.
"Chelsea has nothing to say," Dominic says. "That's got to be a first. Tom, I felt the passion, and not the sexy, smexy kind."
Tom breaks into a grin and the moment is gone.
"Let's hang onto that feel and run this thing. Ready?" Dominic asks.
I nod and take my place. "How'd he do that?" I whisper, and Dominic shrugs.
Tom begins again and I'm lost in the mood, throwing myself into the moves, not thinking, just letting muscle memory take over and be in the moment. Then we get to the part where Dominic lifts me onto the stage, I have a few solo steps and then leap into his arms, but it feels wrong and the end of the number goes poorly.
I'm disappointed at the final lift and look to Dominic for feedback. "Chelsea, other than the end, which we'll fix, that was amazing. All my harping about losing yourself to the intention of the steps has paid off."
It felt better than we've ever performed it.
Tom speaks up. "I've been watching the show all season and, wow. There's no way you'll be sent home if you dance like that tomorrow night."
He likes it, and coming from a guy who can sing like he does, my heart fills to bursting.
"Thanks, man," Dominic says. "Apparently having you sing it with oomphy passion is all it takes."
I give Dominic a dirty look. Tom chuckles.
Dominic ignores me. "We need to fix the end though, with the leap. Something's off."
"I agree," Tom adds. "I think using the stage takes you out of the frame you've been working in. What if you have Chelsea on the piano instead of the stage, and she does the solo steps here and then takes the leap. It would make a bigger impact."
Dominic rubs the side of his chin like he always does when he's considering a new idea. "I think you're absolutely right. Let's use the piano as a focal point. What do you think?" He turns to me.
I look at the grand piano. It's really big until you consider actually trying to dance on the lid. Plus, Tom, a seasoned Broadway veteran, will be right there at the keyboard, which is incredibly intimidating. "What if I fall off?"
"You're not going to fall off. You're going to leap off," Dominic assures me.
I chew on my lip. "I guess we can try."
Dominic hoists me up on the piano so I can get the feel of it.
I glance down at Tom and he's looking straight up at me. If I were wearing a dress, he could be peeking up my skirt, but I'm in dance shorts, which are way more revealing, and now I wish I'd worn more clothes.
My feet are leaving footprints on the shiny black surface. "I feel terrible standing on top of this beautiful piano in my bare feet. It seems sacrilegious."
Tom gives me the eye. "It is. You're going straight to hell."
I do a double take and realize he's hiding a smirk. "Don't worry. I'm probably going there already anyway," I say.
He hikes an eyebrow.
Dominic interrupts. "Try marking your steps. See how you feel about the space. And then for the leap, you've got two beats to step to the edge and dive forward. Ready to give it a try?"
He takes his place below. So now I'm not leaping a few feet off the raised stage into his arms, I'm a good three feet higher. "Are you sure you can catch me from this high?"
He gives me a cock-eyed frown. "Have I ever dropped you?"
"Well, sort of."
Tom chuckles.
"Those weren't drops, that was learning." Dominic defends himself. "Now you're a pro."
"But I'm not a pro," I whisper.
Dominic stands at the ready. It feels like a suicide fall. Tom's eyes are on me and I don't want to embarrass myself.
I lick my lips and focus on Dominic. "Are you sure you're ready?" I'm always afraid he won't be paying attention.
"Chelsea, I will always be here to catch you. Always. You need to learn to trust me. Push off as hard as you can."
I clench my fists for a second. "Okay, I'm ready."
Tom softly plays the tune in the background to give me my place, which actually helps. I mark the moves and step to the edge, my toes hit the edge of the piano, and I launch myself toward Dominic.
But the piano slides backwards from the sudden thrust of my push off. I scream as my leap falls short. Dominic rushes in and awkwardly catches me before I hit the steps.
"See, I've got you." He grunts and sets me on my feet.
"Thanks," I say, my heart about to explode out of my chest. I don't mention that his arm punch in the gut nearly brought up my scrambled eggs.
Tom is climbing off the floor. "That's a new one," he says, his hair mussed and face confused. The piano pushed into him so fast it knocked him and his piano bench over.
"Sorry," I giggle, but it's fun to see him off kilter.
"Can someone please secure the brakes on the piano?" Dominic calls out.
A couple minutes later, with the piano secure and Tom seated again, I'm about to hop back up on the piano.
"Here, come around and step on the bench. It's easier," Tom scoots over to give me room and holds out his hand. I take his hand for support as I step up and smile. "Thank you."
We run the leap a couple of times. Each time when I place my foot on the piano bench, Tom's there offering his hand. I notice Dominic snickering at something Tom is doing. I turn as I step onto the piano lid and he's staring at my ass. He quick snaps his guilty eyes up to mine.
Dominic laughs.
"Oh my God, have you been doing that every time?”
He grins.
“What are you, like twelve years old?" I tug the edge of my shorts down.
"Sorry, love."
I don't respond, and I have a feeling he's still looking at my behind, but he called me love again, which makes my pulse race.
The next day during dress rehearsal I mess up at the beginning of the number and can't pull it together no matter how much coaching Dominic offers. We only get the one shot at dress rehearsal, so I'm left obsessing over my mistakes. Plus it's in front of a guy with a gorgeous smile and delicious accent who flew across the country to sing.
The confidence I built up yesterday is out the window. I hide in my trailer. Even the idea of drinking bourbon with Hank isn't enough to pull me out. By the time I report to the ballroom for show time, I've got myself so worked up that I want to vomit. I love this dance so much and thought tonight I might be able to stay in the show on my own merit. Enough people have been voted off, and I've been lucky to make it this far, but now I'm on the chopping block and everyone knows it.
Dominic spots me from across the room and beelines over. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Sorry, I just needed some space to get my head together." I rub my arms, my gaze darting anywhere and everywhere.
"Did it work?"
"Not so much."
The audience is ready and suddenly it's all lights, camera, action. I give the obligatory smiles through the introductions, and then hang out in the skybox as the other couples perform. Each one is better than the next. Hank and Sonya do another really cute number. This time they are the turtle and the hare, and it's hilarious. Odds of me beating the seventy-three year old country singer aren't looking good.
Finally Dominic and I are called to the stage for the pre-commercial promo. My nerves are wound tight.
Tom, who I haven't seen since my abysmal dress rehearsal, joins us decked out in a black dress shirt, slacks, and a jacket that fit him to perfection. Combined with his blond hair and easy smile, it's difficult not to stare. "You look great," I say, happy for the distraction.
"Thanks. You look lovely," he takes in my willowy white dress and artfully applied stage makeup, and I'm thankful for Mary Kay's skills. He notices my nervous hands. "Are you trembling?"
"A little." I hold up a hand and it's shaking like I have the palsy. I take quick breaths as my stomach churns. Dominic massages my shoulders but it does nothing to calm me.
"Is she always this nervous before a performance," Tom asks, his brow furrowed in concern.
Dominic sighs. "Nope, this is new."
Just then the director cues a camera on us and the announcer says, "Stay tuned. After the break we have Chelsea and Dominic doing a contemporary dance accompanied by the Tony nominated Thomas Evan Oliver.
"Do you think anyone would notice if I quick went out for ice cream?" I ask, desperate to escape.
"I've got a car outside, want a ride?" Tom offers, but I see the teasing in his eyes.
I hug myself and tuck my hands under my arms. Now I'm making Dominic nervous. He gets up in my face.
"Come on, Chelsea, look at me. We're going to shake it off. Bounce with me." And he bounces on his toes, shaking his arms loose.
I give it a shot, but feel stiff as a board. Then Tom joins in, bouncing.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"You aren't the only person who gets nervous."
He is adorable in his pristine suit, bouncing up and down. I can't help but crack a smile.
Larry gives us the sign and we take our places. The announcer's voice booms overhead. "Welcome back. Let's take a peek at how Chelsea came up with her song choice for tonight's dance."
The video package of our prep for the number begins. I expected it to be about all my failed lifts or for sure when my foot brought Dominic to his knees. Instead it shows us sitting on the rehearsal room floor and Dominic asking if I wanted to talk about why this song means so much to me and me saying, "No, I really don't."
But then for some reason I went ahead and told him, explaining that it reminds me of my parents' divorce when I was six, and my father's permanent move to France. I talk of my mother battling cancer for two years before her devastating death when I was fourteen, and how my own father wouldn't take me in after she died. He'd started a new family in Europe that didn't include me.
I stare at the monitor and watch myself explain how I tried to be perfect so my father would want me, but he still didn't. In the end I begged him to stay, but he walked out anyway. He left me behind in the U.S., a minor with no passport, and no way to follow him. I go on to tell the world how I moved in with my sick grandfather and took care of him until his death, and then lived out of his car.
I watch myself say all of this in a very matter of fact manner, but in reality, as I stand here in the middle of an empty dance floor with my soul bared to the world, my heart is breaking all over again.
On the video, I continue. "When I first discovered this song,"Stay,” I felt it was written about me, and the way the artist sings it holds so much pain. It's as if he was singing my pain."
My voice on the video breaks, and my eyes well with tears. "So basically, I have abandonment issues and am always trying to please people. I usually end up disappointed and hurt. And now I'm on this show, which I clearly don't belong on, and every week I try to please everyone, the producers, you, the judges, and viewers, and every week I fail."
The clip ends.
Oh, God, what was I thinking to reveal all that?
"Are you okay?" Dominic asks softly.
I swipe away a tear. "Yeah." I turn to Tom who's watching me with a somber expression.
The lights come up, and he begins to play. His tenor voice fills the studio, and between witnessing my video package and the comforting sound of his voice, my earlier fear is washed away. All I feel is the anguish of that day when after losing my mother, my father walked away.
We hit our cue to come in. Dominic whispers moves in my ear but quickly realizes I don't need them. I'm in the moment and the steps come as naturally as breathing. I embrace the pain and sadness of my past.
The first lift is smooth and fluid, as are the rest. Then we reach the transition where Dominic maneuvers me onto the piano for my brief solo. Before I can get nervous, Tom's voice crescendos and fills the room with the angst and torment I feel, sending me deeper into my painful past.
I lose myself in the moves and at the exact perfect moment, I throw myself off the piano and into Dominic's waiting arms for a double spin around before he releases me into two pirouettes and then I drop to the floor. The number ends with him walking away, leaving me alone, devastated, under a single spotlight.
The audience roars their approval as I take a moment there on the ballroom floor to pull myself together. Slowly I stand and fight back my emotions while trying to catch my breath. Dominic applauds me before leading us in a quick bow. We turn and gesture to Tom. He receives his own burst of applause. For an instant, his eyes meet mine, and I'm struck by the connection as if he truly understands my pain.
Then Dominic puts his arm around me, giving my shoulder a supportive squeeze as he leads me to the judges. I'm a mess. The dance opened up an old wound.
Nikki LaFlash cries at the beauty and vulnerability. Stephen applauds my bravery to portray painful emotions so honestly. Brice calls our performance a game changer and that my growth week to week is what this show is all about.
Dominic kisses my temple and keeps his arm around me, which is good because I'm barely conscious of what's going on around me. After the comments, he leads us to the skybox for the scoring, and murmurs support in my ear as I shake off my emotional fog.
Julie Mason gives a shout out to Thomas Evan Oliver for his phenomenal performance. The scores come in. We get tens from every judge.
"I think they got it wrong, you better have them double check," I say.
She laughs along with the rest of the contestants. Dominic swings me around as reality seeps back in. We did it.
The rest of the show flies by. After the taping we're completing the post show interviews, and for the first time we have a long line of media. When it's over, Tom finds us.
"Congratulations." He wraps me in a hug and I like how his arms feel holding me and notice how good he smells. "After seeing you so nervous, I wasn't sure you could pull off that performance, but you were brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."
"Thanks." I smile. "We couldn't have done it without you." We pose for pictures, some with all three of us and a couple where Dominic steps out and it’s just me and Tom. Our attention is pulled away by a producer and afterwards I realize Tom has left.
"Dominic, we forgot to invite him to the party. Oh my God, that was so rude. What do we do?" I desperately want him there.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure he knows."