So You Think You Can Dance?

Pas de Deux

So, here we are ... starting a new story. I'm dreaming that it's summer time and the favorite thing about summer time, besides the longer days and warmer weather is the return of my favorite show, So You Think You Can Dance? I love it ... the beauty, artistry and athleticism is amazing. Plus, the music they play? Damn ... makes me happy. Oh, thank you to Bridget for helping out with her mad betaing skills! Love to you, girl! ;-)

Additionally, I'm using the format they used when they had the results show the following week. None of this stage vs. street nonsense or results at the end of the show. Just saying ...

Chapter Two: Pas de Deux

EPOV

A couple of days later, I walked into a dance studio. I had just come from my physical therapy session and was loose, ready to choreograph the call-back piece for the dancers who didn't quite make the cut to go straight to Los Angeles. I was dressed in a pair of workout pants and a fleece, bundled up for the harsh Chicago winter. It hadn't snowed, but was brutally cold. It made me miss the warmth of Los Angeles. Reaching the studio that the producers rented out, I met up with Irina Kincaide, the winner from the season just before mine. I had, during the competition, been paired up with her for a Broadway number and had gotten rave reviews. She was tall, lithe and easy to work with.

"Hey, Edward," she chirped, giving me a warm grin as she stretched out on the floor. "I see that they got to you."

"I'm glad. I've wanted to choreograph my whole life. I've done a few things, but this is the biggest scale thing I've done. Ever," I said, tossing my bag onto a chair. "Do you not like choreographing?"

"Not really. Do you want to take the lead on this?" she asked, standing up and moving to the barre, continuing her stretches. "We could do something that incorporates both contemporary, which is my strength and Latin ballroom, which is yours. Though, you can pretty much do whatever the fuck you want. According to Alistair, you shit gold."

"Really?" I smirked. "That's news to me. I'd be soooooo much richer if I did." Irina laughed. "Do we have music?"

"We have a couple of choices," Irina said, walking over to the sound system. "'Uptown Funk' by Mark Ronson, 'Thinking Out Loud,' by Ed Sheeran, 'Centuries,' by Fall Out Boy and 'Lips are Moving' by Meghan Trainor."

"Let's listen to all of them and immediately nix the one that is the most annoying," I said. We sat down on the floor, listening to each of the songs. Almost immediately, we eliminated "Lips are Moving" and "Centuries." Both had been overplayed and were bound to drive both of us nuts by the end of the choreography process. They were both great songs, but didn't have the diversity for what we needed. We had to separate the strong dancers from the weak. "Thinking Out Loud" could prove to be a beautiful lyrical, contemporary piece while "Uptown Funk" lent itself to more partner work.

"I don't know," Irina said. "Both songs are pretty great. What do you think?"

"It depends on what they're looking for," I murmured. "What do they want to see? Beautiful lines and something flowy or intricate, challenging choreography?"

"I'm thinking the latter, Edward. You remember the choreography round from last season," she shuddered.

"I was lucky. I was sent through right after my audition," I snickered. "I heard rumors of how wicked hard it was. Almost all of the dancers who performed it messed up."

"How about we split the difference?" Irina suggested. "I like the Mark Ronson song. I think that we could do a ton with it, making it challenging with lifts and fast footwork, but have some spots where dancers can really shine. Have a nice combination of jazz, hip hop, and ballroom."