I couldn’t explain with words how deep my hatred for dance was. It was the third day I danced with Caspian, and it felt more like a roast party than dance practice.
He wore gloves, black satin gloves similar to Atlanta's, and Zavian's before he went off to be Amber’s partner. They got off on the wrong foot since Amber was giving me jealous, death looks. Later on, Zavian got the hang of her and had her laughing. They were on good terms, but Caspian and I weren’t. At all.
Eddie claimed us ready for the waltz today, and had us form neat rows across the room. He was the counter, and we had to dance according to the beat. I stared at my footing as Caspian took my hand and our arms wrapped around each other. We maintained the closed-dance-hold, where I was a smudge to the right of my partner.
