It Takes Two To Tango

Chapter Ten

A/N: sorry for the delay! I completely forgot I was posting here :O Here are two chapters to make up for it. Sort of. Maddie xoxo

If I say that I’m not looking forward to Friday’s dance rehearsal, it’s probably the biggest understatement of the century. The kiss Jude and I shared has been replaying on my mind, over and over and over again, and each time I find myself feeling differently about it.

Yes, it was sizzlingly hot. Yes, it still sends shivers down my spine if I even start thinking about how it made me feel. Yes, I lay awake for a long time last night trying not to relive it.

 But this is Jude, and he was clearly just getting playing to his lusts. And, of course, because he’s good looking, I couldn’t help myself. Which was a mistake, but it won’t be happening again. I won’t be disgracing myself by playing tonsil tennis with that boy, and nor will I twine my fingers in that gorgeous curly hair of his, nor will I enjoy the feeling of his fingers at the nape on my neck, pulling me to him…

Friday goes alarmingly fast- probably because I’m dreading what will happen after school. Before long, I’m walking to History, my last lesson of the day. For some reason, I’ve recently found myself actually looking forward to History. This worries me, I should hate it - I’m sat next to Jude, for goodness sake…but History has definitely improved all of a sudden.

As Jude comes through the door to History, however, I feel butterflies in my stomach, and start feeling all nervous. Of course, he can’t kiss me in here, but… what if he tries to start talking to me about it again?

I’m shaking a bit. How embarrassing.

‘Well hello, Foxy,’ he says, as he slings his bag down. ‘How are you this fine Friday afternoon?’

‘Not too bad,’ I say. I’m just replaying his kiss in my mind again. That’s all. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m marvellous, thank you darling,’ he replies, with a silly (yet somehow adorable) smile. He seems to be a bit hyper today. Brilliant.

He leans over, close to my ear. ‘You want to talk about our kiss now, don’t you?’ he whispers. The whisper makes me shudder a little.

I shake my head firmly.

‘You do.’ He moves a tiny bit closer. ‘Come on, Foxy, how many other guys have you kissed? I’ll bet you anything it was never as good as what it was last night, was it?’

‘That’s none of your business!’ I hiss at him, cross.

He raises an eyebrow. ‘You haven’t kissed any boys, then?’

‘I have!’ I protest, annoyed with him.

He looks at me disbelievingly. ‘How many, then?’ he probes

‘Fine, I’ve kissed three. Satisfied now?’ I tell him, turning back to my work. Three boys. And let me tell you, none were anywhere near as amazing as that kiss set to music. The first one, I was more worried about having literally just finished eating, and found it rather a disappointment (maybe the fact that the boy in question had very scratchy lips was something to do with it.)

The others had never been the fireworks I ever thought that I’d experience. They’d just been… well, pleasant. Never spine chillingly hot, never bone meltingly gorgeous. Just… nice.

‘Three?’ Jude repeats. ‘Three?!’

The teacher starts talking, so Jude thankfully stops talking. She’s talking about the 1800s ballroom dancing they used to do, as that’s the period we’re studying.

‘Do any of you dance?’ she asks the class.

‘Kyra does!’ Jude points out, loudly.

I glare at him. ‘That works both ways, Callahan,’ I tell him, in a low voice.

I’m rewarded by him actually looking frightened.

‘You dance, Kyra?’ asks the teacher. I nod unenthusiastically. ‘As in ballroom dancing?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose you could call it that,’ I reply.

‘You dance with a boy then?’ the teacher continues.

‘Yes,’ I answer.

‘Ha, I bet you dance with a complete pouf,’ jeers one of Jude’s friends.

‘Yeah, actually,’ I reply, unable to help myself, despite the fact I’ve always hated boys calling each other that, and smirk smugly at Jude, who is looking half amused, half annoyed.

As I look back at Jude’s friends, I notice that one of them, Luke, seems to have picked up on the looks between Jude and I, because his eyes suddenly widen, and he looks at me in shock.
 
I shake my head slightly, panicking. Jude will slaughter me alive if he finds out that Luke is catching on.

‘And there’s probably a lot of physical contact, isn’t there?’ the teacher adds.

A lot when we’re talking about Jude. ‘I guess so,’ I say, and hear Jude chuckle to himself as he doodles on the corner of my History book. He’s doodling his name, in true Jude-esque egotistical fashion.

‘Well, in the 1800s that would have been very different. Touching a woman was something that was taken very seriously, and therefore had to be supervised.’ Well, that would be handy, seeing as our last session ended in a kiss that definitely wouldn’t have happened had Sarah been in the room.

‘So, most of the dancing took place at balls, similar to the ones you’ve all probably seen in Pride and Prejudice, or some other period drama.’ The teacher looks round at us all, expectantly. ‘The gallant young man never marched up to a pretty girl and asked her to dance- they had to be introduced to one another first. Otherwise it was not deemed proper, and would have been seen as scandalous, even.’

As the teacher carries on, Jude is still smiling to himself. I notice that Luke still looks shocked.

When the bell goes, I linger to speak to him, hoping I can clear this up before something awful happens. Jude doesn’t look at me as he charges out, and the rest of his friends follow.

Luke spots that I’m waiting for him, and we slowly walk off. ‘Er, Kyra?’ he asks. ‘Did I see what I think I did?’

‘Well, what did you think that you saw?’ I reply.

‘Um. Is Jude your dance partner?’ he asks, cutting straight to the chase.

I look up at him and nod. ‘No one’s meant to know,’ I tell him, seriously. ‘Don’t let him know that you know, or he will kill me.’

‘Kill you?’ Luke smirks. ‘I doubt that’

‘What do you mean?!’

‘God, Kyra, it’s obvious. He’s clearly not going to kill you.’

‘Well, I was kind of exaggerating,’ I reply, slowly. Just how stupid is he? ‘Of course I’m not actually scared for my life.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Luke says, turning to look at me. ‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’

My jaw drops. ‘You’re right not to be scared for your life… you should be scared for your virginity!’ Luke adds, and then, with a laugh at his own wit, he gives me a casual wave, and heads off, leaving me standing there, stunned.

*

I have to force myself back into the room that evening at dance. I’m torn between feeling like I want to run back home, and wanting to see whether Jude will kiss me again. Not that I want him to. Oh no. Definitely not.

I step into the hallway before the studio rather cautiously, summoning up my strength. I haven’t been this nervous for a while- I can feel my heart beat drumming in my chest, and my fingers feel all trembly.

Taking a deep breath, I push the door open.

Jude is waiting for me, looking gorgeous, as ever. ‘Thanks for not revealing I was your partner, Foxy,’ he says, as soon as he sees me, and he actually sounds genuinely grateful.

‘I was tempted,’ I answer.

‘But I’m not a pouf,’ he says, with a frown.

I roll my eyes at him.

And so we start dancing again, any idea of kissing forgotten. Or so I tell myself. I can‘t help thinking about it as he spins me across the dance floor.

The passion seems to have increased. Jude moves me about with rough, deft movements, perfect for the tango, but also extremely sexy.

As he lays me down in the ending position, he gives me a cheeky look. ‘I have a nice memory of how this went yesterday,’ he tells me, and runs his thumb along my bottom lip. I don’t know why this makes me feel weak at the knees, but it does.

‘Well I don’t,’ I reply, a little hoarsely.

‘Want me to remind you?’

‘Of course I don’t!’ I say indignantly.

‘Shame, Foxy, shame.’

‘I still don’t think this move is appropriate, Jude.’

‘Well, I saw one where we do something similar to this, but we sort of roll across to stage, tangled up together in a sexual sort of way. Would you prefer that?’ he asks, with a devilish grin.

‘What do you think?’ I ask, sarcastically, but as he seems to be sarcasm immune he grins.

‘I think, lets give it a go!’ He starts to move into a different position, but before he can do anything, I scuttle out from under his arms.

‘You’re no fun,’ he pouts. ‘Spoil sport.’

I run a hand through my hair. ‘Look, Jude, this isn’t funny anymore. We need to sort out this routine! You’re really not helping here.’

‘Don’t stress out Ky,’ he tells me. ‘We’ve got plenty of time.’

‘But we HAVEN’T, Jude! You don’t seem to understand!’

‘Okay, fine, we’ll focus. Happy?’

‘Depends on whether you actually focus or not.’

‘I’ll focus, I promise.’

‘Well then lets carry on,’ I say, feeling relieved that at least he’s being cooperative and not being stupid.

He isn’t focusing at all, I realise, as we carry on dancing. He still sees this as a fun activity, he doesn’t care about the competition at all. When I tell him this, he bites his bottom lip (which looks attractive, unfortunately) and looks at me.

‘Are you telling me off for being distracted by you, Foxy?’

‘You can’t blame me for this!’ I say, exasperated.

‘I’m not. It’s just that you’re hot, girl,’ he tells me, still biting his bottom lip. Why does he have to look so sexy when he does that?

‘Ha ha,’ I tell him, deciding not to stand for any of this nonsense. ‘Just please try to concentrate, just for the next ten minutes.’

‘I might be able to concentrate better if you promise to go on a date with me after the rehearsal,’ he mentions, looking at me with those puppy dog eyes.

‘Oh my- Jude, no. Stop this, now,’ I reply quickly. Too quickly. It’s a good job he doesn’t know how tempted I am to say yes. I wish I knew why I wanted to say ‘okay, let’s date’ so badly, because it is seriously confusing me right now.

‘Well the offer’s open,’ he says. ‘You can always take me up on it at another point.’

‘Yeah, no thanks,’ I tell him. ‘Right, so, what are we going to do in the run up to the ending?’ I continue, trying to change the subject.

‘Kiss passionately?’ Jude suggests.

I rub my forehead, wondering if he’ll ever grow up. Doesn’t look like it.