"Left foot back," he said gently, correcting her frame. His hand hovered just above her hip—not touching, respectful. Their fingers were already intertwined on the other side in the ballroom grip.
"You lead really smooth," Lena said, surprised.
Marco chuckled. "I have three sisters. I was trained to be gentle."
As the music swelled—some romantic classic with violins and a slow beat—they moved. Step, turn, dip. Her hair brushed against his arm as she spun. They weren't perfect. They misstepped. But they laughed. She hadn't laughed this much in a class… ever.
In hip hop, the vibe shifted. The music was loud, the energy electric. Marco's style was looser, more grounded, while Lena danced with elegance even in the urban beats. But somehow, they worked.
He would wink at her during freestyles.
She would pretend to roll her eyes but blush every time.