PART III

"So how's Costa del Sol? I remember last time I was there at this time of year, man there were so many hotties – "

"How are Marlene and Denzel, Yuffie? Is Marlene getting her homework done? Denzel's not getting into fights with those boys at school, is he?"

"They're doing just fine, Tifa, don't you worry your pretty head over it. Yuffie is on the job!"

"Thanks, Yuffie. I don't know how I can thank you, leaving on such short notice – "

"You just relax, enjoy yourself, and think for a bit, 'kay? Everyone needs a vacation once in a while, even super-Tifa."

"Oh, Yuffie..."

"Gotta go, Marlene's got a-hold of some paints and looks like a Sephiroth who just found Jenova. Bye, Tifa!"

Click.

Tifa relaxed into the breezy-soft bed in her hotel room. Costa del Sol really did inspire awe at this time of year – and the men were beautiful, Yuffie had that detail right. But her mind always zipped back to one target when she saw a beautiful man.

She simply could not get Cloud off of her mind.

She decided to go to the bar. It would be nice, for once, to be the one on the other side of the counter.

Costa del Sol had quite the tango scene, Tifa realized as she sat sipping a Sol Sunrise. She had picked this hotel at random and had found herself stumbling upon a bar with a wide open dance floor and many enthusiastic dance participants.

And these people tangoed like she had never seen. Of course, Julian matched them well enough, from what she had witnessed of his skill, but the other dancers in her class? People from Edge? None of them even came close to the natives of Costa del Sol.

Tifa found she could not even summon the courage to go out on the dance floor herself. No, these people intimidated her too much. She would get asked several times a night, however.

"Excuse me, miss. Would you care for a dance?"

Tifa supposed her tango-style dress confused the patrons of the bar. They wanted her to dance—her long dark hair, coiled onto her head and draped down her neck in thick waves, her sexy shoes, and her deep red dress with a sea of ruffles probably gave off the impression that she had come to the bar in order to dance. However, she felt too shy—what if she made a fool of herself in front of these almost-professionals?

But Yuffie had said she needed to relax and unwind. Maybe dancing would clear her mind of Cloud.

"All right," she smiled, dazzling in the low-lit atmosphere. He grinned back at her, face flushed, looking young and energetic with a mop of red hair that reminded her slightly of Reno. The lack of mischief in his honest brown eyes, however, definitely did not draw comparisons to the cat-like ex-Turk.

She and her partner, who introduced himself as Leif, assumed the position on the middle of the dance floor. He whirled her into a spin at the first sound of music, and she took it smoothly, her dress flaring around her knees and calves. Tifa had the sense that every eye in the bar had pinned her to the center of the room the first time she moved. Indeed, many of the customers were now watching intently.

Leif was no Julian, but he held his own rather well. Some of his steps were clumsy, and at times his posture slipped, but Tifa could nudge him subtly into the correct direction or straightness with an easy response and a smile from him. When the song came to an abrupt close and they struck a final pose, he beamed from above her, his smile enchanting and infectious.

Tifa felt something within her loosen then, and decided she should do what she had felt like all along—dance.

Thus began her string of suitors and dance partners. Through the following night, Tifa fended off lecherous pursuers and accepted smooth dance proposals from amateurs and professionals alike. All wanted to dance with the lovely, dark-eyed beauty in the red dress.

None affected her so much as Leif, though.

On her third night in Costa del Sol, she found herself once again on the dance floor with Lief as they stepped a slow, less-intense version of the adrenaline-high tangos she had danced earlier in the night. Sweat gleamed on her skin, and he had taken notice and invited her to dance with him to the lowered tempo of the next song.

After a few moments of silence, he looked down at her. He was tall, a few inches higher than Tifa even when she strapped on heels. "Miss Lockhart," he addressed her in a low voice.

"Yes, Lief? I told you last night you can call me Tifa," she said.

"Well," he said. "I don't want to alarm you, but that man that just came in is staring at you. Not that half the bar doesn't stare at you when you walk into a room," he mused, "but this man seems to recognize you."

Her eyes snapped to the entrance where a familiar face watched her. She looked away hurriedly, breaking their locked stare.

"I thought my sudden departure would have made it clear I didn't want him to come after me," she said, voice soft and heavy.

Leif's hands tightened a tad on her body. She felt it with a fighter's awareness. "Are you in any danger, Miss L—Tifa?"

Her smile looked bitter. "No. No, I'm not."

After a short pause, he asked, "Who is he?"

"He's my... he's... well."

"Ah," he said, voice knowing. "Is he the reason you're so sad?"

She frowned. Sad? Angry, yes. Sad? … Also yes.

"Yes."

"Would you like to speak to him, or should I send him away?"

"I should... I should talk to him."

He stared at her, his eyes intense. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," she said, not sounding sure at all.

When the waltz ended, Leif bowed to her, very old-fashioned. She wondered where he had come from, what sort of family had raised him to be so formal and polite. She smiled at him.

He smiled in return. "Tifa, when you leave here, would it be all right if I visited you sometime?"

"I'd like that," she said. "I'd like that very much."

"Good," he said. "Because if this guy screws up, I'll be waiting." He nodded to Cloud. Her mouth dropped open, shocked. Leif chuckled. "Go on. I'll look you up later."

"Thank you, Leif. For everything."

"Anything for you, lovely Tifa." With a flourish of his ruffled sleeves, he spun on his heel and was off, prepared to ask another young woman for a dance.

Tifa swallowed thickly and squared her shoulders, striding toward Cloud.

"What's wrong with you?" The words leapt from her lips with venom, and surprise welled up in her at her own vitriol.

"Tifa, I—"

"No, Cloud. I don't want to see you. I thought I made that very clear."

His mouth twisted, and without another word, he grabbed her roughly by her upper arm and almost dragged her onto the dance floor. She was so shocked her mouth dropped open, and she couldn't react, letting him lead her without verbal complaint.

When the first notes of the next song struck up, however, and he tried to get her into the starting position of a tango, she wrenched herself out of his grasp, reared back, and tried to punch him. He stepped backward, out of the way, and she lunged.

Angrily, she grabbed him by the collar, and barely registered when his eyes met hers and he began a backward crawl. She stepped back with him, intending to clock him again for touching her like that without her permission. What she did not initially realize was that a traditional tango prowl had begun.

Cloud smirked, then placed his right hand around her back and reached for her left. She slapped them away, attempting to grab for his throat to strangle him. Tifa could not remember the last time she'd been so mad. At Sephiroth, maybe? No, this was worse. This was someone she trusted, someone who was supposed to be her best friend, and he wasn't taking the hint.

"Cloud," she growled.

"Tifa," he said simply, without anger, without fear, without regret. And he grabbed her and spun her outward from him, one hand holding hers. She went with it—it was either go with it or fall flat on her ass in front of everyone.

Unable to do anything but comply with the iron grip of his hands, Tifa danced with him, in the most reluctant fashion possible.

Several times she attempted to kick his legs out from under him, but he dodged that with ease and would spin her into his body or dip her backwards with a flourish to cover the movement. Her shoulders were tense, but they stiffened even more when he dipped her and ran his free hand up her side with a burning intensity on his face.

Tifa tensed with every touch of Cloud's hands, until finally, she simply could not take it anymore. She wriggled free of his grasp at the end of the song, unable to complete the dance.

She stood there, panting, hands flexing, staring at him with fury written in every angle of her face, every movement of her body. Cloud breathed heavily, his eyes locked on her.

"Give me another chance, Tifa," he pleaded.

"Why should I?" she said, horrified to feel tears pooling in her eyes.

"Because," he said, "I hurt you, again. And—I..." He threaded his hands into his hair, knuckles bunching and whitening as he stared at some point beyond her shoulder.

"Cloud..." she whispered.

His gaze snapped back to her, eyes luminous and deep in the dimness. "I'm sorry doesn't seem like enough. Not for you." He paused, almost out of breath after the fervent words. "But right now, it's all I have. I'm sorry."

Cloud took two steps forward, and she held her arms out just enough. He gathered her to him.

"Do you," he said, hesitant, "want to go somewhere more private?"

She nodded into his shirt, into the familiarity of his body. Cloud took Tifa by the hand and led her into the sultry del Sol night.