It Takes Two To Tango

Chapter Twenty Six

Over the next few weeks, things start to look up. My parents are talking to each other more frequently, and are actually talking to each other civilly, without shouting or raising their voices.

There’s no words to describe how much of a difference that that’s made to the situation at home. Mum is more relaxed, Molly is less pale and worried and when Dad drops in, he gets a cup of tea and can talk, even if it is a little bit more than slightly awkward.

Jude and I are working hard, in the meantime. Having finally settled on our music has definitely helped, and we’re working in such complex moves that each session is a challenge. But I’ve never loved dancing more. The challenge makes it exciting, makes me determined to do it right. I practise when I get home, too, doing it as I do the drying up, spinning round with the dishcloth flung over one shoulder, forgetting the dishes entirely.

I reflect on how quickly time has flown as I’m sat in History one afternoon. It’s Monday today, and the competition is on Saturday. We have quite a lot to do in that time, and I half turn in my seat to look at Jude.

He’s sat there, taking careful notes in his slightly scribbled writing. I smile. He’s been extremely attentive in the past few History lessons we’ve had. I don’t know what brought about this change, and when I asked him, he told me ‘you, of course, Foxy’ with a cheeky grin.

But anyway, his good behaviour hasn’t failed to go unnoticed, and the teacher seems to be very pleased and smug with herself for having moved him to sit next to me. His predicted grades have shot up, and he seems to have even been revising, which probably shocked no one more than himself; I don’t think he’s ever revised before in his whole life.

As the lesson draws to a close, Jude leans over to me. ‘Remembered we’re going to get the clothes tonight?’ he asks me.

I nod. ’Yes, of course. We agreed to meet at 5:15, didn‘t we?’

‘Yep,’ he responds. ‘Can’t wait to see you in another sexy outfit, Foxy,’ he tells me, with a mischievous expression.

Although he does still say cheeky things, he hasn’t tried to kiss me since I told him we should just be friends. Though I’m pleased at his newfound respect for my power to say no, I can’t help but daydream about those days when he used to press fairy kisses down my jaw line, when he used to tangle his fingers up in my hair, and I used to do the same to him…

Yeah, probably best if I don’t mull too much over the past. There’s nothing I can do to go back to that week where all we did was kiss and kiss and kiss, but it’s a week I will never forget.

Firmly back in the present, I stand up and, slinging my bag over one shoulder, and walk out into the busy corridor. Thankfully, the secret about Jude being a dancer hasn’t spread around the school. It hit me a while ago that actually quite a few people knew now, and that it was mainly my fault, and couldn’t help feeling guilty for it.

Not that it would be a bad thing if it came out about Jude. He really should man up and just tell everyone that he’s a dancer. For a start, it would make things a lot easier, and it would actually help him realise which of his friends are worth keeping. The ones that stick by him will be the ones that really care about him. The others are worthless.

I’m quite impressed that Luke hasn’t told anyone either. I had almost expected him to  pull the most humiliating prank on his friend, revealing what he got up to after school to the entire student body. But he seems to have kept quiet about it, which is a good sign.

Before long, I’m making my way to the clothing shop. As I go in, Jude is already there, sifting through the clothes to have a good look.

‘Hello there,’ I say, coming up behind him and making him jump.

‘Hola Foxy,’ he replies, once he’s calmed down. ‘No need to frighten me out of my mind.’

I poke my tongue out at him, and we start our search. We’re planning on getting something pale coloured to match the song, maybe a dress that’s a bit floating with some delicate beading or something for me.

Jude hauls a shirt in a pale baby blue colour out of a huge rack in every shade of blue imaginable.

‘What do you think, Ky?’ he asks.

‘Good choice,’ I tell him. ‘I like the colour a lot.’

‘Now we need to find a matching dress,’ Jude says, enthusiastically, and, taking me by the hand, pulls me to the dress section of the shop, heading straight over to anything blue.

‘I don’t want a repeat of last time,’ I tell him, anxiously, as he finds the blue version of the ridiculously risqué outfit I tried on last time, and ended up looking like a stripper in.

‘Shame,’ he replies, winking at me. ‘I rather enjoyed the sight.’

‘You’re naughty,’ I tell him, which he smirks at, and continue to sift through the dresses to find one that has a great deal more material than that one.

Eventually, both Jude and I hold up a dress at the same time as each other, saying ‘how about this one?’ simultaneously.

He’s chosen a pale blue one with a tight fitting, almost lacy top half with one long sleeve, the other not there and a floaty skirt made out of slightly shimmery material that will probably reach about half way down my knees.

I’m holding one up that’s got two long sleeves, and is the same material all over; pale blue, slightly sparkly.

‘You’ll have to try them both on,’ Jude tells me, steering me towards the fitting rooms. ‘And if I remember, these rooms don’t have locks, do they?’ he adds, with a suggestive wink.

‘Perv,’ I tell him, and he laughs.

‘I’m joking, gorgeous,’ he replies, and opens a door for me, letting me go into a fitting room, and waits outside.

I slip my one on first, and I’m quite pleased with how it looks. It’s quite floaty, but I don’t think that will matter when we’re dancing. I turn to one side, and then to the other, trying to see if it suits me or not.

Feeling a bit shy, I open the door and ask Jude what he thinks. He looks up and his eyes run down my body, making my cheeks warm.

He nods. ‘I like it. But then, you’d look good in anything, wouldn’t you?’ he adds, teasingly. ‘Try on the other one as well, just to see.’

So I do. The lacy top is slightly see-through; you can just see my bra underneath. Thank goodness it’s a slightly nice one for a change.

As I look at myself in the mirror, holding my arms out to see how much movement the outfit allows for, I smile. It does suit me, unbelievably. How does Jude always pick out the outfits that suit me best?

I step out of the fitting room, and Jude’s face lights up. ‘Perfect, Foxy! Seriously, you look freaking gorgeous, girl.’

He puts a hand on each of my arms and carefully studies how I look. ‘Sexy stuff,’ he comments. ‘Do you like it?’

I nod. ‘I actually do.’

Jude laughs. ‘Well, thanks for the evident belief you had in me, babe,’ he tells me, but he looks pleased all the same.

Deciding to buy it, I carefully take it off, back in the privacy of the fitting room, and after visiting the check out, we walk to the shop exit. Suddenly, however, Jude lets out a gasp, and yanks me into a rack of puffy pink dresses, crouching down at the bottom, his arm snaked around my waist to keep me there.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ I hiss at him, struggling to get out of his grasp and failing.

‘Ssh,’ he says, as a shop assistant comes past. ‘I saw my friends walking past the window and so I hid.’

‘Is that it?!’ I stand up. They’ve gone anyway. ‘You decided to dive into a rack of clothes, because your friends were walking past?’

Jude nods, emerging himself, and he looks a bit uncomfortably at me.

‘Why?’ I probe. ‘Why?!’

‘Then they’d know about my dancing.’

‘So what?!’ I say, fed up of this secrecy.

‘I don’t want anyone to know, Foxy,’ he replies, looking a little dejected. I’m almost fooled into feeling sorry for him.
 
‘For all your bravado, you’re really just a coward,’ I tell him, and he looks at me, surprised.

‘Coward?’ he repeats

‘Yes, a coward.’ I’m being harsh at the moment, but he needs to know that he’ll be accepted, that he doesn’t need to hide what he loves. ‘You can’t tell anyone about your greatest love, because you’re too cowardly- you’re too scared of what they’ll say.’

Jude shrugs. ’But…’

‘That’s not brave, or Jude-ish. Friends who are worth their salt will accept you, no matter what,’ I carry on, hoping it doesn’t sound like too much like I’m lecturing him on friendship.

A frown creases his brow as he watches me say it. ‘No matter what?’ he comments. He shakes his head a little sadly. ‘I don’t think you know my friends, Ky. They wouldn’t accept that I dance. They’d do whatever they could to humiliate me about it.’

I shrug. ‘You’ll never know if you try. Is it worth all the lies?’

‘I don’t lie that much!’ he protests. He pauses. ‘Well. I lie quite a bit to get round it, but that’s necessary.’

‘Is it?’ I ask him. ‘Is it really worth lying every day to get round telling your friends about something you really love?’

‘But I’m an eighteen year old guy, Ky,’ he says, abruptly changing tack. ‘I’m not meant to like dancing. It’s alright for you.’

‘Who says you’re not meant to like dancing?!’ I ask. ‘Who has ever told you that you can’t dance at the age of eighteen if you’re male?!’

‘Nobody-’ Jude begins.

‘Exactly!’

‘But that’s because nobody knows an eighteen year old who dances. I’ve only met Dan who dances, and he’s hardly telling anyone about it, is he?’

‘He’s stopping dancing,’ I mention. ‘He never really loved it.’

‘Well, exactly. You’re not expected to last it out if you’re a boy.’

‘Jude, listen to yourself. You love dancing, don’t you? I can see it so clearly.’

He nods.

‘And you’re good at it. Why let anyone stand in the way of that?’ Feeling suddenly as if I’ve overstepped the mark by about ten miles, I stop, biting my lip and looking anxiously up at him.

He doesn’t say anything, instead, leaning down, he gives me a quick hug, and walks out of the shop, leaving me standing there, stunned at my own audacity. I just told Jude off. Good idea or not? I feel irrevocably guilty, but there’s not much I can do about it now. I’ll just have to wait and see.