Page 41 of Not Strictly Ballroom

“Nick, it’s not like that?—”

“Are you going to dance together at the Nationals? You should, you’ll win.”

“I don’t want?—”

“Yes, you do. We could never win. We know that.”

He comes and stands in front of me. I’m just numb. I have to remind myself that this was just a dream, a stupid one on my part, thinking we could dance together in a competition.

“I want to explain.”

“Shush,” I whisper, and capture his lips in a brief kiss, because I want to taste him, and after the dream of the last few weeks, I want to make sure that part is still real. It’s bittersweet.

“I understand,” I say. “This is for the best, and after the day I’ve had, I can’t take any more right now.”

“Oh shit, Nick. I’m sorry.” His face creases, but he still looks cute, and I have to close my eyes briefly to defend myself from it. “Your gran, is she okay?”

“She’s broken her leg. She’ll be fine, but we have a few things to sort out and I need to go see if my parents are alright.”

“I hope she’ll be okay,” he says, and I nod in affirmation. I see his mum coming down the steps, no doubt coming to look for him to go finish the competition. I don’t feel like staying around to watch them, it’s too raw for me at the moment.

“Bye Darcy.”

“Is it goodbye?” he says, biting his lip hard, as if he needs to feel something. I know that feeling.

“Dancing with Krystal is the right thing to do, but I need a couple of days to get used to it.”

His mum has nearly reached us, and as much as I want to kiss him, kiss his hurt away, hoping it will work on mine, too, I don’t.

Instead, I give him a quick smile and walk away, wishing this day was already over.

Watching Nick walk away was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. In movies, no one stands there hopping from one foot to the other in indecision over whether to make the grand gesture. They just run after the guy, declare their undying love, and everything works out alright.

But I can’t make it alright. I could go after him, but the outcome would still be the same. I’ll still be dancing with Krystal at the Nationals. But we are still us, aren’t we? He did just kiss me. But then why did it feel like goodbye?

My mum tugs on my arm. She’s saying something, but I don’t hear her. I just watch Nick’s form getting smaller and smaller as he walks down the street.

When I can’t see him anymore, I allow myself to be led inside, hardly aware of changing into my outfit for the Latin dance. He said a couple of days. He gets forty-eight hours, and that’s all. After that, I’m going to explain it all and make him love me again.

We win the competition, but the victory feels hollow as it wasn’t Nick and I who won it. I don’t even want to look at the trophy. My mum is delighted, my dad is pensive, and I can’t rouse up any enthusiasm for anything. The car ride back is full of my mum’s plans for when Krystal and I should practise and what routines we should dance for the Nationals. I let it wash over me, none of it penetrating the hard shell I’ve constructed round me. I’m no longer interested. I’ll dance to save our school, but I don’t want a future unless it has Nick in it, too.

“Hello love.” Nick’s mum opens the door to my knock, and I fight the rising anxiety enough to be able to answer her.

“Hello Mrs Richardson. Is, err, Nick in?”

“He’s next door at his gran’s.” I nod and turn to leave, wondering which next door in the long line of terraces is her house. Left or right?

“Come through the house, love,” she says. “We don’t use our front doors round here. Remember that for next time, eh?”

So, she mentioned a next time. Maybe things aren’t too bad if she believes there might be a next time. Or, even worse, Nick hasn’t even spoken about me.

“Thanks Mrs Richardson.”

“It’s Doreen, please,” she says. She’s lovely, but then this is no surprise as I know Nick and you only need to have met him for a few minutes to know he was raised well. “How are your mum and dad? Are they keeping well?”

She hasn’t seen them for many years, not really since Nick started catching the bus on his own to the dance school, but she still asks after them like it was only last week.

“They’re fine Mrs Rich—Doreen.” She beams at me as I stumble over her name, and I see where Nick gets his smile from.

---