Page 7 of The Dance Deception
Outside the pub, Warren takes my hand and asks if there’s any chance I might fancy extending the eveningback at his place. I’m flattered, but although I might have been tempted if he’d asked me just three days ago – it’s the first time since Ed that I’ve clicked with someone so well conversationally and I’ve enjoyed our flirty banter – I tell him it’s a no. Because the only person I want to extend my time with right now is Merle.
Chapter 4
It feels like someone is hammering nails straight into my skull when my alarm goes off the next morning. A hazy memory of the previous evening claws its way to the surface. Was there a fourth bottle of wine after the first three? Did we remember to eat anything? I did say no to Warren, didn’t I? I fling my arm across the other half of the bed and am relieved to find it empty. That’s a complication I could do without.
I sit up, then promptly lie back down again. How the hell am I going to get through today feeling like this? I’m not sure I can even make it out of my bedroom.
Spurred on by thoughts of Merle, I drag myself in the direction of the kitchen. When she hears me moving, Lucy comes bounding out of her room with the biggest grin on her face. I hold my hands up.
‘Stop moving so much,’ I plead. ‘It’s making me queasy.’
She takes the kettle from me and points me towards the table, where I flop into a chair.
‘Why do you look so … so normal? I feel terrible!’ I wail.
‘Aiden and I went for pizza after the pub, to soak up some of the booze. Then we snogged on the doorstep for about an hour, like sixteen-year-olds. And then he asked if he could take me out on a proper date this evening. How cute is that?’
I’m thrilled for her and want to find out more, if only I could stop my head throbbing. I can’t believe I got so carried away at the pub – I’m such an idiot.
Lucy puts a steaming cup of coffee in front of me and follows it with Marmite on toast, and gradually the world starts to feel less wobbly. A blast of ice-cold water in the shower goes some way towards clearing my brain fog and two more slices of toast help my stomach settle down. By the time I leave the flat I’m still far from top form, but I’m at least a paler shade of green.
I arrive at the studio before Merle, which is a relief because it gives me more time to compose myself. While I’m waiting for him, I catch up with the messages on the “Fire Dancers” WhatsApp chat that I set up with Liam, Tammy and another of the contestants, Beth, on the last day of pre-show training. By then we’d got into the habit of having lunch together every day, so when it was time to go off for our individual classes we promised to post regular updates.
‘How’s everyone’s first week going?’ Beth has asked.
‘Hard work,’ is the reply from Liam. ‘I probably should have spent less time at the pub over the weekend.’
A sentiment I currently identify with all too well.
‘I’ve never sweated so much in my life.’ This is from Tammy.‘And I’ve got muscle aches in places I didn’t even know I had muscles. I’m progressing much quicker than I did in the group classes, though.’
‘Yeah, I’m learning loads. My teacher is so nice,’ Beth has written. ‘Is everyone happy with their first dance?’
When we finished the pre-show practice, we were each given a sealed envelope containing details of our first dance, the name of our instructor and how to find our individual studio. We were asked not to share this information with anyone before the live show, but we were all in agreement that the Argentine tango is the dance none of us wants in week one – it’s by far the hardest.
‘It’s not the tango,’ is Liam’s response, followed by a ‘ditto’ from Tammy.
‘No tango for me either,’ I type. ‘Thankfully! I’ve made a bit of headway this week – I think. But I’m still no Emilia.’
‘I think that goes for all of us,’ Tammy replies. ‘We all know she’s going to kill it on Saturday. I’ve been stalking her on Instagram – is that bad? I don’t think she’ll notice though, she’s got about five thousand followers.’
‘Five thousand?’ I repeat. That makes my ninety-four look feeble.
‘I guess that’s what you get when you add a new picture every fifteen minutes,’ Tammy writes. ‘Really, though, I don’t care how amazing she is on Saturday. I just don’t want it to be one of us who’s eliminated. I know it’s mean, but can it just be Dean or Theo please?’
‘I don’t think they’d be too happy,’ Liam chips in. ‘I saw them together on the last day of training. I think they might have secretly got together.’
‘What! Why didn’t you say?!!!’ Tammy writes. ‘That’s a brilliant bit of gossip. The first FOTDF romance. I wonder if there’ll be any more.’
‘Not for me,’ Beth says, before I have a chance to say anything about Merle. She’s been with her boyfriend for two years and is desperate for him to propose.
‘Well I’m definitely on the lookout,’ Tammy writes. ‘My dance partner’s out – he’s loved-up with his wife. But there must be someone on the production team or in the audience who’s single and looking to mingle. Ooh, speak of the devil, here he is. Time to get to work.’
‘Yep, me too,’ Beth adds. ‘The dance floor’s waiting. See you soon, guys. Miss you!’
My Merle revelation will have to wait.
He arrives soon after that, striding purposefully across the dance floor and smothering me with a kiss, seemingly ready to pick up where we left off yesterday. But just as quickly, he pulls away and fixes me with a look so deep it feels like it’s penetrating straight into my soul.Oh no– please don’t tell me that means he can still taste the booze on my breath. I brushed my teeth three times, and I’m sure I put on enough concealer to hide the bags under my eyes.
