Free Secrets of the Prairie by Joyce Carroll Page A

her.”
     
    “I’m not afraid of her. She just has such a firm demeanor, and it makes me so nervous when I have to do skill tests while she’s watching me.”
     
    “In this profession, you mustn't be afraid of anything. Not if you want to be serious about it.” He said, and then looked at me sideways.
     
    “And don’t get nervous. She can smell fear.” I looked at him, surprised. He laughed again at my expression.
     
    “Relax, I’m just kidding.”

***
    When I arrived home, I was completely exhausted. I plopped down on the couch next to Elliot, who was engrossed in a sketch. He looked up, smiling.
     
    “Babe, how long have you been working on this new comic?”
     
    “Pretty much since you left for the studio. I actually was so focused, I think I forgot to eat lunch.” He chuckled light-heartedly as I sighed.
     
    “I’ll go cook something up for us. I’m starving.” I loved Elliot, but sometimes I wish I could come home to a dinner that I didn’t have to make. I internally shrugged my shoulders. I kissed him on the forehead and grunted as I made my way into the kitchen.
     
    “How was training today?” He yelled from the couch.
     
    “It was great. Exhausting, but great. The new coach really knows his stuff.” I looked into the sink of day-old dishes. I tried to brush off my annoyance.
     
    “Oh, it’s a guy? That’s unexpected.” Elliot wasn’t the jealous type which I had always loved about him, but for some reason today I wished that he was.
     
    “Guys dance, too, Elly. It’s not that uncommon.” He didn’t reply. I peeked out of the kitchen to see him contemplating his next line. I smiled then; I had adored the scrunched-up face he made when he was concentrating. I pushed Luis out of my mind as I expertly stirred vegetable stir fry.

***
    It was finally the weekend, and I ached as I opened my eyes. Something felt off. Trying to shake it, I leaned over Elliot’s peacefully sleeping face and kissed his cheek. He stirred without opening his eyes, and kissed my nose.
     
    “I’ll go make us some coffee.”
     
    I rolled out of bed, holding back the groan rising in my throat. The rest of the week’s training had been arduous, and took a toll on every inch of my body. As I hit “start” on the coffee grinder, my mind wandered to earlier in the week, when Luis and I had been practicing my salsa. I had tried so desperately to not ogle the way his hips moved. In Latin-style dance, there is something called “Cuban motion,” and it requires the use of the hips to generate the correct movement. His hips moved flawlessly and erotically. At some point during our time together, he had adopted a habit of running his thumb across my hand while he held it. I’d assumed it wasn’t intentional; he was so very difficult to read, and it made me self-conscious.
     
    Suddenly, I realized what my strange feeling was when I woke up. I stopped pouring the coffee as I struggled to recollect the dream I had. It was about Luis. I bit my lip unconsciously as I resumed fixing our coffee, and raced back into the bedroom.
     
    Elliot had fallen back asleep. I sighed and placed his cup on the nightstand beside him, and paused. His face was angelic. He always had such an innocent, boyishly handsome look, and it didn’t betray his gentle nature. Except when he drank too heavily. That’s when most of our fighting happened; I resented the way he never seemed interested in talking about our issues when I did. Or ever, for that matter.
     
    He stirred again and opened his eyes to see me staring at him absently.
     
    “Hey, baby. You made coffee. You’re the sweetest.” He groggily gravitated towards the coffee cup and didn’t seem to notice the distant look on my face. He was never very good at noticing these things.
     
    “What do you want to do today, El? Did you still want to take the canoe out to that river we found the other day? I could make mini sandwiches and tea the same way that I did when we