Practice Makes Perfect (Madame BookWyrm & Mirath)

[Madame BookWyrm]

It happened in a heartbeat.

The lights. The crowd. The music. The judges.

The judges.

Right in front of the judges.

Her foot came out of nowhere, just for a split second. Enough to catch Olivia's foot and send her to the floor despite her partner's best efforts to catch her.

Right in front of the judges.

Why did it have to happen right in front of the judges?? She knew perfectly well why. Bella Branson and Max Williams had been a constant thorn in their sides. It was always the two couples fighting for first place. Every competition. Every showcase. Every charity event, they were there. No one had noticed the actual, purposeful trip except her partner Ben, and no one believed them. They had come in last place, throwing off their entire score and losing them the championship.

That had been two years ago. Neither Olivia nor Ben had been able to let it go. The rivalry had only grown, bringing snide remarks and jibes from each couple. Ben went out of his way to criticise and antagonise the other pair, and Bella and her partner seemed bent on the same until it was well known how much the two couples despised each other.

Everyone knew Olivia Greyson and Benjamin Starling were lifelong enemies of Isabella Branson and Max Williams and there was no repairing that.

Ever.



"YOU WHAT!?" Olivia screeched into the phone. "WHY THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU SKYDIVING IN THE FIRST PLACE!?"

"Liv, calm down. It won't-"

"CALM DOWN!? DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! YOU BROKE YOUR PELVIS THREE MONTHS BEFORE NATIONALS AND YOU'RE TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN!?"

"Thanks for the sympathy," he muttered.

"Ooooh no! You get sympathy for car accidents. Slipping on ice. Falling down the stairs. NOT WILLINGLY JUMPING OUT OF A BLOODY AEROPLANE!" She sank down onto her couch and hung her head with the phone pressed to her ear, battling tears. "How could you do this?" she whimpered, finally running out of breath and strength.

"I'm sorry, Liv. Cory dared me to go with him and I..." he trailed off. There really was no excuse. He knew how important this was to her. They were positioned to be top contenders, and there had been a vague rumour that Williams and Branson would not be there. It was most likely false, but there had been that tiny shred of hope in his partner's heart that they would finally beat the other couple. The hope that they could make up for being cheated out of their first place prize. The hope that maybe, just maybe, they could show the world what they were together.

And that was gone now. At least for the foreseeable future.

"I'm sorry, Liv," he repeated.

She sniffed softly and wiped her cheeks before speaking in a tiny voice. "I know." For a moment, she simply sat there in silence, then finally hung up without another word. There were no words in the world to describe her pain and disappointment. Everything was gone. Years and years of agony, money, and training down the drain.

It was all over.



"Come on, Olivia. He was a good match! What did you not like about that one?"

Olivia flopped on the floor and began unbuckling her shoes. "He sweats too much."

Her coach, Pyotr Sidorov could not help rolling his eyes. "He was your last chance, Olivia. There are no more unpartnered men at your level. There is no way you can hope to make Nationals if you do not choose one of them and start working right now."

She lay back on the floor and stared up at the ceiling, once again fighting tears.

Pyotr let her stay like that for several minutes before speaking again. His tone was soft, cautious, thoughtful, but firm. "There is one other. A top competitor. A real opportunity. I will make arrangements if you promise me you will work with him. No more finding fault. No more stupid excuses. He is your ticket to Nationals. There is no other."

"Who?" she mumbled.

"You promise. Promise me now that you will accept this partnership no matter what, or you do not go to Nationals."

"Fine. I promise. Who is it?"

"I will go now and make arrangements."

He was avoiding her question. Olivia watched him go, vaguely trying to think of anyone else who might be available and good enough to have a hope of making Nationals, let alone winning it. There was no one she could think of.

[Mirath]

Finally alone in the studio after his temporary partner had left, Max sighed to himself. That... hadn’t been the best, he had to admit. Sometimes it was hard to not get frustrated, but that was almost always a combination of factors - the high energy of some dances, the stress of needing to be perfect...

~

Him and Bella... They’d been at the top of their game. If the trophies and certificates were anything to go by, certainly, they were some of the best. If not THE best - but that was Bella’s view, she always seemed to be a lot more... fiery... when it came to high-stakes competitions.

There had been that incident two years ago... but they didn’t talk about that. It was better to just ignore it, or so Bella had said. It had never really sat right with Max, not deep down, but he couldn’t deny that he craved the feeling of being top dog. It was like a high in itself, the exhilaration of all that training, all that hard work and months to come to a grand feeling.

Bella... Oh Bella...
She was a firecracker, for sure, but that heated passion was what had gotten them so far together, had them coming in first place time and time again. He wasn’t too sure what had happened, why things had gone so wrong for his partner, but to get that call... No, no that had not been pleasant at all. ‘Dismay’ was just just the start of what Max felt - all that training, all that hard work, all those almost-sleepless nights... for what? It had all seemed to come crashing down around them, hopes and dreams in tatters.

~

Letting out a sigh, Max leant against the wall and folded his arms in clear defence, but panting slightly from the effort even then. No pain, no gain, right?

He lifted his head at a call of his name, looking across the floor at where the instructor, Pyotr, was walking towards him, footsteps almost seeming to echo around the studio.

“Good news, your luck’s in. I found you one last available partner if you still want to compete in the Nationals. Last chance to prove yourself, because she’s the only one who I think can match your level.”

“Yeah? Who?” Max asked, his interest piqued there and then even if he still had to hide how he felt. It had been a while, numerous partners who just couldn’t keep up or weren’t quite at his level of skill. If Bella was still there, she probably would have laughed (‘all in good fun, of course’ she’d say) and turned them down so much as to look at them.

Pyotr, the instructor, simply smiled - or at least that was the expression he gave off - and beckoned for the other man to follow him, but outright avoiding answering the question.

“Promise me this. You work WITH them, not against them. So, I don’t want any remarks, any sulking. Okay?”

I don’t sulk...

Max accepted, but tried again to figure out who this other person could be.

“Fine, Fine... Who is it?”

“Come on, all will be revealed.”

Sighing and shaking his head in mild amusement, it wasn’t like Max had a choice but to follow along. Getting an answer out of Pyotr was sometimes like getting blood from a stone. But he meant well, it was all for better development, or so he said. Max had to admit that the instructor’s methods had worked on more than one occasion though.

[Madame BookWyrm]

Olivia had taken out her lunch while she waited for Pyotr to return, presumably from making the phone call to the possible new partner. There really was no one she could think of who would be available and at her level. She knew everyone. At least, she thought she did.

The moment the door opened, her green eyes fixed on her coach, then the man behind him. In a second, she was up on her feet, virtually choking on her sandwich as she shook her head violently and tried to swallow.

"Uh uh! Uh uh!" she garbled.

"Olivia, please. You promised me," Pyotr warned. "He is-"

"A cheating wanker!" She had managed to swallow the last of her mouthful and her glare could have pierced metal.

"He is your last chance," Pyotr stated firmly. "It is him and Nationals, or no one and nothing. The end. Finished. Over. Gone. No more. You dance with him, or you dance with no one. He has promised to work with you." He turned to Max expectantly. "Remember?"

[Mirath]

“Yeah, yeah...” Max replies, but his grey gaze was fixed on Olivia.

“It’s not my fault your dancing was so... sub-par.”

Was that a bit harsh? Maybe to the outsider, but they were both an old hand at insulting the other. Besides, if she hadn’t called him a cheating wanker, he wouldn’t have stooped that low.

But... He’d promised. She’d help him get what he wanted, one way or another.

Max walked over to Olivia, head inclined even as he looked down at her - mostly  from being a good few inches taller. He extended a hand in forced invitation, although he did it by battling down his own feelings too.
“Well. Want to get this over with?”

[Madame BookWyrm]

Flames spread across her cheeks like wildfire and burned in her eyes at his insult. Swatting his hand away in fury, Olivia took a step backwards and shook her head. "You know perfectly well that's not true! You had to cheat to win that competition! We would have won. And if your partner wasn't sleeping with the judges, we would have beaten you plenty of times since!

"No. Absolutely not. How could you even suggest this!?" she demanded of Pyotr. "You know what he's like! What happened? Did his own coach and partner drop him?" Olivia was quite purposefully looking past Max as if he were not even there. "You're being completely unreasonable."

"Olivia!" Pyotr snapped, his patience obviously wearing thin now. "This is enough. You two are going to move past things, or not move at all. You will sit here until you can be civil." The older man shut the door and leaned against it with his arms crossed.

Olivia stared at him in disbelief for a full minute before sitting down on the floor with a grumpy huff. Without a word, she started eating her lunch again, completely ignoring Max.

"Shoes on now."

Olivia continued to eat her lunch.

"Shoes. Now!" the man repeated.

With an irritated growl, she slammed her sandwich down and grabbed her shoes, ramming her feet into her soft-soled heels while mumbling under her breath about not lowering herself to his level.

Finally, she stood up and glared at Max, paying attention to him for the first time since he had walked in. "So? What happened to your coach and partner? Did they get too good to keep you around? Or did you finally get tired of being Bella's little lap dog?"

"Olivia! Enough! Now, Paso Doble. Max, show me. Lead her. Olivia, follow. Is test," he added in response to Olivia's glare, his Russian accent coming out more strongly with his rising ire.

With an angry huff, Olivia raised her arms and turned her head as far to the left as possible as she got into the traditional starting position.

[Mirath]

Max had watched the exchange with mild amusement, but his amusement had quickly turned to irritation as she had quickly rounded on him once more. He’d been about to reply when he heard the tenser, angrier, voice of the Russian, and for once decided against it. But he quietly seethed at her words.

How dare she...

Although Max nodded at Pyotr’s instruction, and had watched Olivia get into position, his voice dropped to a softer growl as he’d taken a step towards her, unable to resist a further comment even then and an even cockier grin as he closed the gap between them ever so slightly as he adjusted his position just the tiniest bit to make it just right for himself.

“Show you, he means... You want to see how it’s really done, sweetheart?”

[Madame BookWyrm]

For a split second, Olivia found herself appreciating his positioning and the remarkable fit of his arms around her, but the moment she realised, it was gone. No. She could not start noticing things like that. This would never work. It could never work. He and his ex-partner were horrible, cheating, nasty people. How could she possibly agree to dance with him for hours on end every day? It was unthinkable.

The first strains of the music blared out of the speakers on the walls just as Max murmured in her ear softly enough that Pyotr could not hear. Her head whipped around so fast that small brown tendrils, curling from the heat, were blown loose and framed her furious face.

"That was not what he meant! You pompous, self-important, conceited-"

The rest of her words were drowned out by the music and Pyotr's shouted counts and directions. She had no choice but to follow Max's lead. At least, no choice that would get her anything she wanted.

As they moved, Olivia became aware of how easy it was to follow Max's silent, subtle directions once she tuned into them. He was good. Very good.

Well, he had to be at least somewhat decent. Having his partner sleep with all the judges still would not have been enough to get them where they were without actually having talent as well. But at the same time as she could appreciate his skill, it irked her no end.

How dare he be that good? How dare he move so perfectly that it was like she knew what he was going to do the moment he started shifting? How dare he make it so easy to follow him?

It was most unfair!

[Mirath]

As the music started, he heard Olivia take his bait, whipping herself up into a furious frenzy.

It was rather... cute. And she did fit his form rather well too...

...

No. No. That wasn’t the point of any of this. Come on!

Whatever else she said was lost to him as the beat of the music soon became his focus, his mind turning to more important things. Fun things, like leading this dance. Paso wasn’t his favourite, but it one of his top ones, certainly, so he could enjoy himself whilst doing it.

As they moved, it almost seemed like they were indeed a great match. But only time would tell, their pasts were far too intertwined to be forgotten so easily for the sake of one good dance. And to do this for hours on end, in such close quarters? Surely it would only end badly?

The competition was what mattered, winning was what mattered. Proving yourself, outgunning in sheer skill and hard work...

Anything else was just a bonus.

[Madame BookWyrm]

Olivia was actually surprised when the music ended. For a moment, she simply stood where they had stopped, breathing hard and coming out of her 'zone'. A second later, she stepped back abruptly and turned her shoulder to him, facing Pyotr squarely with her arms crossed.

The older man nodded. "It was good. Good. You move like partners already. This will be good." He continued nodding, eyeing them both thoughtfully. "Alright. We work. Each dance. Ten dances. Then you go home and think, da?" He turned his back to put on different music for the next dance and Olivia shot Max a sideways glance.

"See?" she hissed to Max, "There's nothing wrong with the way I dance!"

Pyotr turned around as a Samba came on. "Go. Together. You work. Feel it. Move with each other. Go!" He began walking around the floor in a wide circle, watching them carefully, nodding every so often. When the music stopped, he put on another, barely giving them time to breathe, forcing them to focus entirely on the dances and music, nothing but how their bodies worked together to bring it to life.

Eight more times, Pyotr changed the music, clapped the beat, urged them on, and then fell silent as they slipped into the dance on their own. Cha-cha, jive, rumba, waltz, tango, Viennese waltz, quickstep, and finally foxtrot. All ten dances of their sport.

By the time they finished the last dance, Olivia could feel the sweat trickling down her back. She was used to working hard, but not like this. Not one after another with no time to think. Even in competition they had breaks between the dances. And they certainly did no play the entire song as Pyotr was. It was rather obvious what Pyotr was doing, at least to her. Perhaps he thought sheer exhaustion would ease the tension.

Perhaps he was right.

Olivia sank to the floor, panting and reaching for her water bottle. Not a single jibe or insult could form in her swirling mind. She was simply too tired. And, though she could not admit it to anyone, even herself, the thrill and adrenaline of dancing like that had left her with a warm, satisfied glow. There was something different about simply dancing to the music rather than performing a routine for each piece. She liked both, but it had been a long time since she had danced like that with anyone. It was rather thrilling in its own right.

Pyotr saw the look on her flushed face and smiled to himself. He had been working with Olivia and Ben long enough to recognise that expression. For at least a few minutes, he had made her look past her hatred to the dancer within the man, whether she realised it or not. If all went well, it would be enough to convince her to work with Max, even if she never truly came to forgive him. It was a lot to ask, he knew.

Eventually, he nodded in satisfaction but gave them both an expectant look. "You will do this, da? You will go to Nationals?"

That was it. The magic words. At least as far as Olivia was concerned. Utterly exhausted beyond conscious thought, the mere mention of going to Nationals was enough to make her nod her head. Deep down, she knew Max was her last chance. Her only chance. And he was good. She could never forgive him. But she would try to work with him.

Try.

[Mirath]

By the time the last dance ended, an energetic foxtrot, Max was starting to hit his limit, strawberry-blonde hair darker with sweat as he sat on the floor, legs out in front of him as he was so tempted to just fall back and lie there. If anyone was close enough, they’d have seen he was close to panting with the sheer effort all of that had taken.

Like Olivia, he didn’t have enough focus or even breath in his body to come up with some remark. Although, he was kind of impressed that she could keep up - did that count? A backhanded compliment at best.

It was rare that he’d been forced to do that, forced to dance and forget everything else. It was rare, but he’d done it more times than he cared to imagine.

[Madame BookWyrm]

Having achieved his goal, Pyotr seemed pleased with himself. "Alright. You go home. Come back tomorrow. Eight o'clock." With another satisfied nod and a small smile, the older man left them alone to recover themselves.

Olivia slipped her shoes off with a tired sigh and wiggled her toes. Her legs felt like jelly and a hot bath sounded lovely, but part of her did not want to be the first person to leave. It almost felt like letting Max beat her if she went home first, as if it were some kind of test in its own right. It was ridiculous, she knew, but the feeling was still there.

Eventually, still without a word, she stood up and shoved her shoes into her bag. It was time to go home and think. Her future depended on this decision. If she missed this season, it would be ten times more difficult to work back into things next year, and that was even if Ben was able to dance by then.

Or ever.

Without a backward glance, she slipped her shoes on and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Don't forget to turn out the lights."



"I can't dance with him, Ben. How could Pyotr think it would work?"

"Liv...I hate to say it, but it really does seem like it's him and Nationals, or nothing. If you can stand him for a season or two, I'll bust by bum and get back to you. He's a horrible person, I know, but it might be worth it for a little while. At least try. You don't have to speak with him much, and maybe you'll even show him a thing or two about being a decent human being and a good dancer."

"He is good..." she murmured into the phone. "I thought it was all just show."

"Yeah, well don't let that prick know that. Just keep him at arm's length, use him to get to Nationals and whatever else you can, and then kick him to the curb. He doesn't deserve a partner like you. Eyes on the prize, Liv. Don't let him distract you with his spitefulness. Do what it takes to win, just like he and Bella did, okay? Stay strong."

"Alright."

"You're my best friend, Liv. Trust me. He'll probably try to sweet talk you into doing what he wants, but you need to remember what a horrible person he is, okay? Don't fall for it."

She nodded, though he obviously could not see her. "Alright. Thanks, Ben. Have a good night."

"If I can!" he replied with a chuckle.

Olivia smiled gently as she hung up the phone and lay back in bed to stare at the ceiling. Ben was right. She could work with Max until she could have Ben back, and then Max could to....well...somewhere unpleasant. He deserved it for all the things he and Bella had said and done to them.



The following morning, Olivia threw on some leggings and a tank top, made sure her bag was packed and her lunch was made, then made her way to the studio. Music flowed from the studio beside the one Pyotr reserved for them most of the time and she assumed it was the first ballet class of the day. It stopped as soon as the studio door closed. That was the nice thing about this studio. The walls were virtually soundproof so only the loudest of sounds came through them.

Her eyes immediately fell on Max and she quickly averted her gaze with a small scowl. In an effort to ease her instant animosity, she tried to recall what Ben had said about working with him until she got where she wanted to go. She could do that. It was only fair, given what Max and Bella had done to them, was it not? She deserved this. And if Max had stolen it from her before, he was going to get it for her now. She just had to work with him for a little while.

Pyotr walked in just as she was getting her heels on. He nodded in further satisfaction at seeing both of them there after their initial reluctance. "Good. Now, we will work on the waltz. Then rumba."

Olivia sighed and got to her feet as the coach began demonstrating moves, putting together a short routine for the next competition. Each dance would have a set routine that would work with whatever music the judges played, as they never knew what the songs would be. They never lasted the entire song. Just long enough so the judges could critique each couple on their dance. Though they would practice for several hours, it would certainly be nothing like the grueling chain of dances Pyotr had put them through the day before.

Olivia decided that today she would do her best not to speak to Max. She was not a spiteful person normally, and she had all but used up her stock of insults the previous day. However childish it might be, pretending he was invisible seemed like her best option at that point.

[Mirath]

Max unfolded his arms as Pyotr explained (or demanded, it was hard to tell sometimes) what dances they’d be doing. Casting a glance at Olivia, Max soon returned his attention to Pyotr and what the instructor wanted to see them incorporate.

And that was fine, just fine.

In an attempt to show a lighter side, whether or not that was just because he wanted to get his way, Max seemed to go out of his way to (at the very least) utter a quiet “morning” in Olivia’s direction, keeping that grey gaze fixed on her as he waited.

He was half-tempted to beckon her forward, fingers twitching in invitation, but that wasn’t how this went at all.

And, in a way, he did want to see her dance again - just to see if she was as good as Pyotr had told him, truly at Max’s level.

[Madame BookWyrm]

Completely ignoring Max's greeting, Olivia focussed on remembering the moves Pyotr was showing them, determined to get them all right the first time so Max could see that he was not the best dancer in the room. Once again, it was hard to ignore how perfectly she seemed to fit into his arms and how solid his frame was. With her heels, she was just at the perfect height that they seemed to match up like two pieces of the puzzle. It was infuriating.

The music started and Olivia began to move, pushing forward and forgetting that letting him lead would still prove her point when he got the steps wrong. It was all she could think about to prove herself. The desperation was so strong that for a split second, all rational thought went out of her mind and the pettiest, most immature thought took over, controlling her moves just in that moment.

As they stepped into a particularly difficult turn, bodies pressed together to keep it tight and neat, Olivia let her foot slip just a hair out of position. It was enough to tangle in his and send them to the ground. What she had not counted on was being the first to hit the floor.

"YOU IDIOT!" she screeched from the floor. "You can't even do a simple chainé!" Her eyes were blazing with anger, though most of it was directed at herself. It had been a pathetic, stupid thing to do, and she had known it a split second after she had already set it in motion. And now, she was the one who looked like a fool.

How could he have her stooping so low and acting so foolish in a futile effort to prove him wrong or 'get back at him' somehow? It made no sense. She had never felt this way around anyone else. Certainly, she had felt the need to prove herself in front of people, but never before had she lost control of her own common sense. Tears of frustration and humiliation were threatening to spill down her red cheeks and she looked away quickly, hoping he would not see that weakness and make fun of her for it.

[Mirath]

Caught off-guard, it happened too quick for Max to even think, let alone stop their fall.

He had barely enough time as they fell, close in each other’s arms from the hold that the particular turn required, but let go of Olivia in time. It’d only look bad on him otherwise.

Max managed to get to his feet with an off-balance stagger, as Olivia screamed at him from where she lay. Anger seemed to light up his eyes then, his pride fluffed, his voice dropped to a drawl.

“Sure, play the victim... Now come on, don’t ruin our chances because you want to impress me.”

He knew that his words would only provoke her, and it really was all or nothing - but he could give as good as he got.

But, he took a step forward and extended his hand down to her, to help get Olivia back on her feet. He wasn’t entirely a jerk, as much as the others had gossiped and clearly their rivals saw him as.

[Madame BookWyrm]

It really was taking all her effort not to cry just then, so when he extended his hand it was too much. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks and she brushed them away angrily, being careful not to look at him lest he see. For a moment, she simply sat on the floor, apparently pouting as far as others might suppose. She simply could not bring herself to take his hand. Confusion was rampant and muddled her mind. Was he making fun of her?

Probably.

With a glance at his extended hand, Olivia sniffed softly, wiped her cheeks once more, and stood up on her own without looking at him.

Pyotr sighed and shook his head, but for once, he did not say anything about the incident. With a clap of his hands, he caught their attention once more. "Alright, we go again. Max, hold your frame on the inside turn. Olivia, watch his face longer, then snap around, da?"

Olivia nodded and took her position in Max's arms once more, waiting for the music to start again. How she was going to 'watch his face' at all, she did not know. How could she look at him after her stupid little tantrum just now? She felt like a fool.

For just a moment, she wanted to apologise, but that was going too far. He did not deserve an apology. She had made a mistake in tripping him, she knew that. But she also knew he needed a taste of his own medicine. Apologising would only make her look like a bigger fool. So she simply danced, following his lead in the steps Pyotr had put together for them.

Over and over again, their coach would stop them to make an adjustment, change a step, or give an instruction. The times he let them finish out the routine, he added another few steps to it and had them go again.

Waltz was usually not her forte to begin with, but shockingly, Max made it feel almost natural. It flowed and moved like water in a brook, and for the first time, Olivia found herself enjoying it.

As soon as that realisation hit, she wiped it from her mind and focussed on just how horrible he had been to her over the years. She could not afford a lapse in judgement just then. Being blindsided by his bad sportsmanship would surely ruin any chance they had.

[Mirath]

Olivia being upset... shouldn’t have affected Max as it did. A little guilt might have run through him at some point' but quickly quietened by the other emotions that ran through him - they couldn’t afford to mess this up!

He was so used to Bella yelling at him that he pretty much yelled back most of the time, both striving for perfection in their own ways. Sometimes their ways merged, sometimes they didn’t and they argued. Some might have said that was a good thing though, to get all the creativity going and make them ten times as wanting. Sometimes it bordered on obsession, slipping over that hazy line here and there...

No. No more.

Max breathed, listened to what Pyotr had to say, and started again. Over and over again, they slowed nailed the routine that their instructor hoped for until they had it down as best they could possibly get.

But some of his attention focussed on Olivia outside of the dance, outside of what he had to see. He had to admit her attempt at payback almost worked. Almost. They were each other’s golden ticket, if they just worked. Second place wouldn’t do - it would never do.

Yet anyone paying close attention (even closer than the eagle-eyed Pyotr) would see how his stance would shift so minutely into hers, as if there was genuine feeling past any acting.

[Madame BookWyrm]

Pyotr worked them relentlessly until lunch time. By the time they took a break, Olivia was quite nearly aching! It had been some time since she had danced like that, as Ben had been down for a month already and she had had no one to work with. It took a lot of effort not to let Ben see than, however. If he thought she could not keep up, she may never live it down!

Pyotr clapped his hands together in satisfaction and looked at them both. "Alright, you practice, da? Work on the steps, show me better improvement tomorrow morning, da? Then we work on others." With nod, he made his way to the door. "Remember, practice. I see you tomorrow morning."

Olivia turned away from Max just a touch, wondering how in the world they would practise without speaking to each other. But they did need to work on things. And hard. Things would certainly not be easy, but to get this far, that really was to be expected. It would just be a bit trickier, that was all.

Despite her determination to get through the rest of their studio time that afternoon, she was hard pressed to be the first one to speak or suggest they get back to work. She knew she was being stupid. It was her career at stake here. But the wounds Max and Bella had inflicted on her over the years simply ran too deep to just forget and move on.

[Mirath]

Max sat back and stretched his legs out in front of himself as he closed his eyes for a few seconds, allowing himself to rest as he felt the cool wood floor beneath himself.

Pyotr has worked them hard, and this was only the beginning. But, the Russian’s methods did their trick: the competitive fire inside him that had been reduced to nothing but smouldering embers since Bella had gotten herself into trouble was starting to reignite, flickering away even then. He knew that, oh he did, he craved the feeling of being top dog once more, of proving himself and just, well, enjoying the ride too.

And yet now he was stuck working with none other than Olivia - how wonderful - even if they did need each other, as much as he hated to admit that. But no, he couldn’t get too close, having put up with both Bella and the rival couple all at once was tiring... Her actions reflected on him, and vice versa, they’d worked so closely together that wasn’t too surprising.

And so, it made him think, turning his attention to Olivia after dwelling on his thoughts.
“Never thought I’d be taking you to Nationals...”

[Madame BookWyrm]

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped, glaring at him. "I've been there before, remember? I'm just as good as you. If my partner hadn't been such an idiot and-"

She broke off and looked down at her sandwich. It hurt. She and Ben had made a wonderful team, and she had never danced with anyone quite as perfectly as she did with him. They fit. There was no replacing that sort of compatibility.

Until Max...

Somehow, dancing with Max was like dancing with Ben. But better. How was that possible. It almost felt as though they were made to go together. Each fit the other in size, style, movement, and interpretation. It truly was infuriating. Why did it have to be this man!? Of all the dancers in the world, it had to be her worst enemy.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and walked to the centre of the dance floor. "We should get started. We've got a lot of catching up to do," she muttered. "Let's start with waltz. We need to get those chainé turns in shape." She carefully avoided the fact that she was the one who caused the problem in the first place.

[Mirath]

Max, for once, stayed silent, but there was no doubt that he’d picked up on her words - so, her partner had done something downright stupid as well, huh? - even if Olivia was keen to avoid the subject almost as much as Max was.

So... maybe they were in the same boat after all. How interesting.

He watched Olivia from where he was sat as she got to her feet, talking away as if she was the boss around here. No, no... Even if she did prove herself to Max to be a decent (more than decent) partner... but she was getting there, it was almost unnerving how they went so well together... Hm...

Max slicked his hair back as best he could as he got to his feet, putting on that air of confidence as he walked over to where Olivia was now stood. It was easy to mask how you felt, and having to take on the emotion of the dance certainly helped to bolster that feeling.

It would have been so easy to make a comment as Max stepped towards his new partner and got into position. But this time, he held his words back, letting out a soft chuckle even if he didn’t entirely know the reason why.

They just had to do what he did best.

[Madame BookWyrm]

Olivia turned on the music and stepped into position in his arms, feeling the beat begin to pulse through her body. Being in Max's arms made it difficult to ignore him, but she did her best to push aside any thought not related directly to what they were doing in that very moment. All she focussed on was the dance.

After another four and a half hours of practise, the group class that was scheduled in the evening began arriving and their time was up for the day. Olivia had to admit, it had gone remarkably well, though she certainly did not want to tell him that.

"I don't know about the grapevine where it is. It seems clunky," she murmured as she took her heels off. "Doesn't it feel off to you? Maybe we should talk to Pyotr tomorrow about it. Move it around somewhere else. I think it might work leading into the-"

She broke off when she looked up and remembered she was not talking to Ben. It was not her old, familiar partner who took her suggestions and offered his own in a comfortable partnership. It was Max. The man who had all but destroyed her career in an effort to elevate his own.

Quickly looking down at her bag, she shoved her things into it in silence. How could she have forgotten!? Certainly it was comfortable dancing with him, but had it really been comfortable enough that she had forgotten for a moment who she was with?

As she stood, she allowed her gaze to drift to him for a second before turning back to the door. "See you tomorrow," she mumbled, completely forgetting her earlier determination not to speak to him.

[Mirath]

Maybe...

If Max thought it, he certainly didn’t say it. Even more so when he couldn’t put his finger on just what felt so odd. It was barely the dance... well, aside from a few moves... But he just couldn’t place that feeling at all.

For a moment his thoughts turned to Olivia, and how she was actually... good. It wasn’t a fluke, it wasn’t a one-time show to impress him...

But no. No. No-one else was even remotely close to their level, to the standard that Max and Bella had set themselves at. But she... ah, no, no she wasn’t worth talking about, what she had done. Her actions towards her partner were a closely-guarded secret, although a cage that hurt if prodded at.

But no. No more.

Even as Olivia stood, their eyes didn’t meet no matter how close they got. There was far, far, far too much at stake to be caught off-guard, never mind being made a fool of for being paired up with an incompetent partner. They would just have to get by as best they could.

Once Olivia was out of earshot, Max breathed out a sigh yet quickly recovered himself as he soon followed suit, barely acknowledging the class leader as he passed. He needed to be the best, he had to act like he was.

[Madame BookWyrm]

Determined to outdo him, Olivia arrived at the studio twenty minutes earlier than usual the following morning. If she could not show him up in talent alone, she would demonstrate how much more she wanted it. She would work harder and longer, forcing him to see that she was a force to be reckoned with. By the time Max arrived, she was warmed up and walking through some of the dances they had been working on.

As tempted as she was to make some snide remark about him 'finally arriving', Olivia chose to bite her tongue. She was beginning to realise that he somehow always managed to turn everything against her. How, she did not know, but it was obviously just the sort of person he was. For a split second, she wondered if it was all worth it. A moment later, she shoved that thought away roughly.

Of course it was all worth it! How could she think that, even for a moment?

Though she managed to keep her mouth shut, she could not help the cold glance that was all the welcome she offered him. Pyotr arrived a minute later, saving her from having to handle Max alone. It would have been much harder to keep her words to herself if she had been alone with Max for any period of time.

"Alright, we work on Foxtrot today, da?" the coach called when Max was ready. Before either of them could answer one way or the other, Pyotr was already putting together a routine. They practised for several hours until Pyotr told them to take a break and went off to make a telephone call.

Olivia sank down onto the floor with her back against one wall, sighing as she opened her water bottle. "That wasn't awful," she mumbled without looking at Max. In fact, it had been the best practice they had had, in her opinion. Granted, they had only been working together for three days, and perhaps if she had not been quite so tired she would not have said anything.

He really would not be a bad partner if he was not such a horrible person!

[Mirath]

On seeing that Olivia had gotten there first, Max was so tempted to take his time purely to wind her up. Just as he was considering that, Pyotr turned up and took more of his attention. True to his nature, the instructor was quick to speak, and even quicker with his expectations - but at least the two could somewhat get along, in Pyotr’s eyes. They’d have to.

Stood facing where Olivia was sat, although still cooling down from the effort, Max had to suppress a quiet chuckle as he answered.
“What? You’re not that bad.”

Maybe he felt a bit guilty over how sharp those words came out, or maybe he had noticed it hadn’t been the greatest either. Which meant refining it to a clear polish, not a step or a hair could be out of place. It wouldn’t do!

“Anyway, we’ve got... what, a week? We’ll be fine, sweetheart, you’ve got me.”

He couldn’t be helped for sounding cocky about it all, rocking on his heels to emphasis his words. Oh, he was in that mindset alright, and he’d use that frame of mind to power though anything that upcoming local competition could throw at him.

[Madame BookWyrm]

Max's snide remark about her not being that bad brought Olivia's head up instantly and she glared at him furiously. "Excuse me!?" she demanded furiously. "I am not the one who-" She broke off when he added to his insult by suggesting he was the only way she had a chance.

"I am not your sweetheart! How dare you suggest that I can't get by without you, as if you're some sort of God's gift to dancing and women!" She sprang to her feet and approached him, her eyes ablaze. "How dare you treat me like I'm some sort of incompetent fool who needs you to help me to so much as find the beat! You are the most arrogant, brash, obnoxious, selfish, rude-"

"Olivia!" Pyotr snapped as he stepped back into the room, taking in the sight of her shouting up into Max's face like some sort of angry terrier at the mailman.

Olivia turned her scowl to her coach. "I can't work with him! I absolutely can't! He's insufferable! It's impossible!"

Pyotr shook his head, though there was the hint of a smile on his lips if one cared to look. "Paso Doble, then. Like Star Wars, use your hatred." Laughing at the look of absolute disbelief on her face, he shook his head and approached them. "Look, you are both the best in your class. You need to work together. You can be the best in the world. But first you must grow up!" he finished with a snap to his voice. "This childish behaviour must stop. Now."

"But he-"

"No," he interrupted abruptly. "There is no argument. You will do it, or you will leave. The end. Now, Paso Doble." He clapped his hands with finality and turned to put on a song.

Olivia glared at Max in sheer fury but slowly stepped into position. "I am not some bimbo with no talent. You need me as much as I need you, and if you muck this up for me like you did last time, I will make sure everyone knows what kind of person you are," she hissed. "Everyone already hates you, anyway." The last may have been said as a final barb, but it was fairly true all the same. Max and Bella had made a reputation for themselves, both in the winner's records and everyone's opinions, and only one was good.