Dancing With The Stars *Narry AU FanFic *Transgender!Niall

3 - Predicaments

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

I sigh, "It's not that many steps!"

"Easy for you to say! Why are we stuck with the hardest dance on the first week?!"

I face-palm, already having a headache start to form. "Do you want me to go get one of the other dancers to do it with me to show you? I'm not supposed to, but we've been practicing for 2 days and you still don't have the first steps memorized."

"Please!"

"Fine, I'll go find Derek." I roll my eyes, heading out of the room.

Of course, not before I hear him grumble, "You're always with Derek,"

I spend the next few minutes wandering around the studio, for his practice room is completely empty.

"Geez, Nic, you're out here more than you are with your Star. Did you two get into a fight?" Zayn comes out of nowhere. I know about his and Harry's rivalry, so I just roll my eyes and walk past him. Shouldn't he be with Peta practicing his own dance?

After 10 minutes of wandering, I don't find Derek, but I do find Louis – sitting in Len's chair. I smirk.

"Having fun getting caught reenacting them?" Louis jumps, actively falling off the chair.

"I-I wasn't reenacting them," Louis stutters, going pink.

"Sure you weren't. Can you come help me?"

He barks out a laugh, "I may be fabulous, but there is no way I could clean up your mess of a fashion sense."

I stalk up to him glaring. "My fashion sense is fine, thank you." Before I can stop myself, my arm is swinging out and punching him in the arm.

"Ow, shit, for the love of all that is holy! God that hurt! I know you used to be a dude, but that wasn't cool, dude." Louis rubs up and down his arm. "Did you take boxing lessons or somethin'?"

"No, I just have strong arms. Deal with it, bitch." I plaster on a wickedly sweet smile. "Now, since you are my lovely best friend and you love doing this lovely best friend lovely favours, could you please come and help me teach Harry how to do this Argentine Tango?"

"Why should I?" He whines.

"Because if you don't, I'll punch you again."

He glares at me, scrunching up his face in discomfort. "Deal with a snobby singing teenage millionaire, or get punched in the shoulder again. Hmmm..." I raise my arm threateningly. "Fine, I'll help you and your clumsy fool of a partner,"

"Leave him alone, Louis. It's only the first week."

"Has he memorized anything?"

"Well," I pause. Harry is absolutely useless on the dance floor. "He knows how to count to eight."

"God dammit, Nicolette! You gotta be more assertive when teaching these people things! You have less than four days to get this dance together, it's the first week, and he knows absolutely nothing. I applaud you."

"Screw you,"

"No thanks, I'm straight."

"Ugh, I give up! I'll go find Mark or something, god dammit. Thanks for nothing, Lewis." I groan, stomping away. I know I'm being really childish, but I really need someone's help. As he said, I have less than four days to teach Harry an entire dance. I've never been in a more stressful season – and the live shows haven't even started yet.