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“I think Carlos is hiding something from me.” TK takes a seat across from Nancy. Nancy looks up from her cell phone, pulling her ear buds out.
“And it looks like lunch with Jeff Probst will have to wait.” Nancy grabs a napkin, wipes her fingers of the aioli from her sandwich.
“Nancy, I’m being serious.” TK says and Nancy can’t help but feel none of this is very serious.
“I just paused Survivor for you,” Nancy responds. “I think I’m taking this pretty serious.”
“Fine, fair play.” TK agrees. “I’m not saying it’s a crisis,”
“It sounds like you’re about to say it’s a crisis.”
“Well it’s definitely concerning.” TK remarks, in hopes of defending himself. “I just don’t get it, what can he tell Liza that he can’t tell me?”
Nancy’s eyebrows draw close together, “Liza? Your dance instructor?”
“Yeah, she called him the other day and he took the call in another room” He continues, “And during our last lesson, I left to grab a bottle a of water and when I came back; they were,” TK looks around him, before whispering, “Whispering.” He resumes with normal volume, “When I walked up to them, they pretended nothing ever happened.”
“Alright,” Nancy has that tone in her voice; the one that sounds like she’s about to help solve a non-problem. “Well, have you tried asking him about it?”
“Nancy,” TK has that tone in his voice; the one that sounds like he’s about to give the obvious answer that isn’t so obvious. “Of course I have.”
“No TK, I mean actually asked him,” Nancy clarifies. “Not in one of your roundabout ways.”
TK knows exactly what she means, and he’s hesitant to tell her that she’s right. Ignoring a bar fight or two, maybe he hasn’t been the best at confronting things head on. He knows he needs to work on it, but he’ll confront that another day. “Fine.” It’s all TK says, but Nancy smiles, knowing she’s got her lunch hour back.
He gets up, getting ready to go about the rest of his day. He nods at Nancy’s phone. “Let me know if Jean and Roscoe win, yeah?”
“That’s the Amazing Race, TK.” Nancy smiles. “But I appreciate you for trying.”
— —
“So, for the menu,” Carlos is dicing an onion, sliding the pieces from the knife into the pan full of olive oil. “I was thinking, maybe, we give red snapper another go? I figured if there was any chance to try it again, it should be our wedd-”
“You and Liza!” TK exclaims, his outburst in time with his breaking of the spaghetti.
“Me and Liza?” Carlos pauses, the knife carefully stopped above the onion. He turns to look at TK, placing the knife down and waiting for an explanation.
“Yeah that probably could have been a little bit more subtle.” TK mutters under his breath. “It’s just, you guys are hiding something from me, right?” TK asks. “You know, between the phone calls, and the,” He ducks his head, before whisper, “Whispering.”
“Ah, okay.” Carlos walks over to the sink, and washes his hands. He grabs a dish towel to dry them off when he begins, “Yes, Liza and I have been having conversations that we wanted to keep a little less than public with you.
TK narrows his eyes, confused. “Why?”
“We didn’t know how to tell you.” Carlos says tightly.
“Tell me what?”
Carlos hesitates, trying to find a nice way to say it before he just decides to rip the band-aid right off. “You can’t dance.”
“I’m sorry?” TK questions. “But when we first met, you asked me to dance.”
“Why do you think I never asked you to again?” Carlos knows it sounds a little harsh, but he tries his best to make it seem endearing.
“Wow.” TK looks taken aback.
“Sorry.” He makes sure that sounds endearing.
TK isn’t quick to respond; he’s trying to piece it all together, how he’s missed the obvious cues.
How’s he prone to move on one and three; how they’ve spent the first four lessons going over a basic four count. How Carlos basically has an ice pack with his name on it that he uses for his bruised toes from TK constantly stepping on them. The fact they decided to take dance lessons to prepare for their first dance in the first place.
“Oh my god,” TK’s eyes widen. “Do I have two left feet?”
Carlos smiles sympathetically, “Baby I thought you knew.” He’s quick to follow up, “But once I realized that wasn’t the case, Liza and I thought it might be best to think of a routine that’s a little more”
“Basic” TK interjects.
“I think the word she used was rudimentary, but yeah.” Carlos shrugs, his secret out.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because,” Carlos walks up to TK, putting his hands around his hips, steadying him. “I know you, and I know how you like to get in your head when you’re not good at something. I didn’t want you to think there was anything wrong; wiith the dance, or us, or you.”
TK’s eyes glaze over with a lovesick gleam. He smiles softly, “So it doesn’t matter if it’s not perfect?”
“I don’t want perfect, I want you.”
“Wow.” TK says.
“Yeah, regretted how that sounded the moment it left my mouth.” Carlos says through a chuckle.
“Baby, what I’m trying to say is that no one’s perfect. I’m a so-called control freak, apparently,” Carlos has that tone in his voice; the one that sounds like even he doesn’t believe what he’s saying.
“Paul sucks at bowling, your dad genuinely likes rice cakes, and you know what, maybe you can’t dance. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t need to be perfect.”
He pulls TK in for a kiss. “I wouldn’t want to do “not perfect” with anyone but you.”