Page 14 of Not Strictly Ballroom

“Oh, that was wonderful.” A clapping sound breaks the spell. I’d forgotten anyone else was in the room, and I turn, almost in a daze, to Justin and Mark.

“That was amazing,” Justin says, echoing Mark’s words.

Nick thanks them, but excuses himself. I feel the edges of my euphoria dull as he leaves the room, but it feels different from the last time he left, and this time I have a plan. I just need to check something out first.

As soon as Mark and Justin leave, having booked in for another session, I race upstairs and switch on my laptop. Hastily checking out information for the Nationals. I hear the other lesson finishing and clatter back down to the studio. My mum is saying goodbye to the clients. When they’ve left, she closes the door and calls out.

“Dinner in ten. Darcy, do you want to ask Nick to stay?”

I wonder where he is. I poke my head into the kitchen, but he’s not there. I find him in the changing room. He’s sitting on a bench, changing into his trainers.

“Hi,” I say, keeping my distance but leaning back against the door.

He looks up, but his face is neutral, and I can’t read it.

“Hey.” He returns to tying his laces.

“How have you been?” I ask, and I’m saddened to see him shrug. We’ve never kept secrets from each other, and have talked about how we’ve felt with each other many times. I guess remaining friends is easier to promise remotely, via text, than saying it face to face. But now I’ve felt how good it was when we danced together, I’m not willing to give it up without a fight. I take a deep breath.

“Will you dance with me?” I blurt before my nerve fails me.

“We just danced.” A frown crosses his face.

“At the Nationals. Will you dance with me at the Nationals?”

He stands and faces me. “We can’t dance at the Nationals,” he says with a derisive snort.

“Why not?”

“Surely it’s not allowed.”

“I’ve checked. There’s nothing in the rules that says we can’t dance together.”

He starts pacing. Nick is never still, but pacing is his stress response.

“I’m not good enough,” he says roughly.

“You don’t believe that any more than I do. You saw those candidates; you’re way better than any of them.” He doesn’t slow his pacing, but his face crumples slightly. I feel like he’s slipping away from me and that makes me desperate.

“Nick, tell me you didn’t feel something when we danced. Look at me and tell me,” I demand.

“I can’t dance with you.” He doesn’t even turn around.

“Why not?” I’m almost yelling.

He eventually comes to a stop in front of me, so close I could touch him, pain written across his face as he answers.

“Because every time I get near you . . .” Anguish threads through his words. “I want to kiss you.”

I stare back at him, seeing those eyes, capable of holding the universe, look dark and haunted and I want to make them shine again.

“What if I want you to?” I whisper.

His shoulders sag.

“D.” It comes out as a sigh. “You don’t know what you’re asking. We could never go back to being just friends.”

“Look at us.” I gently raise a hand and waft it between us. “Don’t you think we’ve already messed that up?”

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