“Bienvenidos todos,” he says. “I am so pleased to present the elite dance team of Tango Fortunado. This is their first time showing off the new choreography that they’ll be performing at the Festival of Dance in Rosario next month. For those who don’t know me, I am Gianluca Fortunado, owner of Tango Fortunado. We have classes Monday through Friday, including drop-in classes each Friday followed by the best student milonga in Buenos Aires. Now, please welcome my dancers.” As he speaks, people wander over—pulled in by that voice—and by the time he makes way for the dancers, a decent-size crowd has formed.

The performance, though shaky in a few sections, is impressive overall. Cali’s partner is the tall blonde I saw her dancing zouk with at the social. Each pair of partners are good physical complements to one another, and the four couples dance in near-perfect synchronization and, halfway through, each lead dramatically releases his partner to the man next to them, repeating this every few bars until everyone is back with their original partner. Then, suddenly, all the couples break loose and two men dance with each other in the center in a way that looks like a highly choreographed knife fight. Then, two of the women do the same. The gender bending seems to surprise and delight the crowd. It’s all over too quickly.

The dancers come our way when they’ve finished, and I notice that the crowd parts for them seamlessly. I’m struck by the expressions of the onlookers; the awed stares remind me of my old life, the way the performers become the focal point and the watchers become the background. Gemma introduces everyone almost too quickly for me to follow: Cali I know; her partner is Anders from Norway, Rodrigo and Valentina from Buenos Aires, Ada from Germany, Mateo from Brazil, Beau from France, and Sandra from Shanghai by way of London.

“And, everyone, this is Liz. She’s new.”

Cali comes over, kisses my cheeks, and pulls up a chair between Gemma and me.

“Nice job, Cali.”

She scrunches her face. “Thanks, but I completely fucked up my dip. Luckily, Anders compensated for me.” I smile. This too feels familiar; I was never satisfied with anything but perfection.

“How was your lesson with G?” she asks. Had I told her about that?

“Oh,” I say, “great. Intense, but he’s a good teacher.”

“Ohhhh, you’re taking private lessons with Gianluca. You minx, you’re blushing!” Gemma says, laughing.

“Am not.” I am, of course.

Cali smiles knowingly. “It’s fine. Everyone has a crush on him at first.”

“Gemma, I’m going,” Edward says. “See you all tonight.”

“Boo,” Gemma says as Edward leans in and kisses her lightly on the lips. “I hope you’ve a better showing tonight, Edward.”

He nods and waves at the rest of us.

“He okay?” Cali asks.