"Uh—sorry, is this the front desk?" I turned to the doorway, and there he stood.
There was something undeniably handsome about him, but not in the way that made rooms stop or hearts race on instinct. No, his was the kind of handsomeness you noticed slowly, like a song you didn't realize you'd memorized until you caught yourself humming it.
It was in the way he stood, buttoned-up and a little too proper, like he was born out of a different time. The kind of man who'd carry a handkerchief in his pocket and mean it. His hair was slightly tousled and his glasses sat a little crooked on his nose, softening the sharp lines of his face.
There was an old-world grace about him, quiet and unassuming, like he'd read too many books and memorized the way to ask someone how they were and actually mean it. Handsome in a way that made you want to look twice—not because he asked for it, but because he didn't.
He blinked at me in panic: "I think I'm lost," he said, voice gentle, almost apologetic. "This is the studio for adult classes, right? Someone told me to ask for a... June?"
I smiled before I even meant to.
From the hallway, Elena called out, "Oh! yes. That's her. June is—hopefully—your new teacher."
He flushed a little, eyes flicking back to me. "Oh. Great. I mean—great for me, not, like, pressure on you, or—uh, sorry. I'm Liam."
He extended his hand.
I took it. "I'm June. And I guess I am your teacher."
That's when I noticed his eyes—blue, but not the kind that shouted. No piercing ice, no storm. Just soft, steady blue. Like he carried constellations behind his lashes—faint, patient, waiting to be named.
He smiled again—awkward, a little crooked—and the blue in his eyes brightened, like water catching sunshine.
Chapter Ten: The Balm and The Moon
I hadn't expected this to feel so... comfortable. Teaching Liam wasn't just tolerable—it was fun. Not in a flashy, high-energy way, but in that warm, quietly delightful sort of way that sneaks up on you.
He was awkward, yes, but not the painful kind. More like the soft-spoken rom-com lead who doesn't realize he's the reason people root for the underdog. He moved like he was trying to crack some invisible code with his feet—each step cautious, like he thought the floor might give him tips if he just listened hard enough.
"S-sorry. Again," he blurted, yanking his foot back from mine for the third time in ten minutes. He quickly adjusted his glasses, like that might somehow erase the collision.
I winced, but laughed. "You know, most people bring flowers to a first lesson. Not bruises."
His eyes went wide behind his lenses. "Oh—oh no. This is sabotage. My feet have, uh, turned traitor. Enemy agents. I swear."
I laughed harder than I meant to. "Right, and who exactly are they working for? Me?"
He blinked. "Y-you and, um... gravity. It's a joint conspiracy."
Even though his frame was all angles and uncertainty, there was a strange kind of grace to Liam. He didn't take himself too seriously, and he kept trying—even after each misstep, even after my toes had suffered. That counted for something.
"I promise I'll—I'll do better," he said suddenly, squaring his shoulders like he was swearing an oath. "Your feet deserve justice."
"They do," I said solemnly. "But let's just focus on avoiding any more toe casualties."
He attempted my spin like a nervous giraffe trying to do ballet—awkward but earnestly adorable. "How do you move like that and not... um, fall over or throw up or something?"
"I'm magic," I teased, spinning just to show off. "You'll get there. Eventually."
We took a break near the mirror, and he pulled out his phone with exaggerated focus. He chewed his lip, then offered it to me like it might self-destruct. "Um, s-so... I wanted to show you something. If that's okay."
I took it, glancing at the screen. It was a video of a couple dancing to a slow, romantic song—fluid spins, soft lifts, the kind of dance that looked more like storytelling than choreography. It was breathtaking.
"You want to learnthis?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
He nodded, once, then immediately looked down and fiddled with his glasses. "Y-yeah. For someone. Uh. Someone important."
That did something weird to my chest.
