Chapter 15

"So, can you help me?" I ask Claire as I dig my hand into the bowl of popcorn that sits between us. I want her help, and when I asked her earlier, she invited me over to her apartment to watch a movie. Not something that we've done for a while. Too long, really.

"Let me get this straight. You want my help to get Mum and Dad out of the house so you and Nick can?—"

"Claire!"

"Well, why else would you need some private time?" She waggles her eyebrows.

"Will you help me or not?" I ask, resolutely ignoring her question.

"Not until you tell me what you and Nick will be getting up to."

Really, sisters are the worst.

"Urgh, please don't make me say it." I can hear the whine in my voice. "Please, just help your little brother."

For that, I get the expected eye roll. She smirks at me and reaches across to grab a handful of popcorn.

"I might let you off." She pops a kernel into her mouth. "If you admit I was right." She takes another piece. "Tell me you've been in love with Nick forever. Tell me all it needed was your big sister to nudge you in the right direction."

I scoff. "I was already halfway there myself."

"Nonsense. You needed me to show you the way."

"I was doing just fine," I protest.

"Rubbish. You were acting like a moody teenager who couldn't accept what was in front of his face."

"Was not."

"Admit it. Tell me you needed my help."

"Never!" I smirk back.

"Tell me or you won't get my help, unless you own up that you want Nick alone for se?—"

I don't hear anymore as I jam my fingers in my ears, stick my head down and start singing very loudly, "Lalalala."

Eventually I look up and she's just sitting, feeding popcorn into her mouth, grinning at me.

"Okay, you were right, and I couldn't see that I liked Nick," I concede.

"Liked?" She snorts with derision.

"You want some time alone with someone you just like? He's been your best friend forever, surely even that is worth more than like?" She won't let up at all.

I grit my teeth. "Will you just help me, please?"

"Sorry, I can't hear you." She cups her hand over her ear and leans in closer. "What was that? Yes, Claire, I needed your help because I love Nick soooo much."

I sigh in exasperation and throw a cushion at her.

"Fine, I more-than-like Nick." That's all she's going to get from me.

What was she asking, though? Yes, I fancy him and want to be with him. Yes, as a friend I said I loved him, but this step is huge. Was I in love with him? I don't want to think about that right now.

She preens a little at my words and luckily doesn't ask me to say anything else.

"Actually, I do have a plan. I've already sorted it." She smirks at me again. "You can just chip in for it, if you want."

"What?" I whisper.

"I've booked a hotel in London for Mum and Dad's anniversary next week. I've also booked a show for Mum—an evening with Bruce de Silva—and I've booked them a meal at Bertoffs for Dad to enjoy."

I stare at her, well aware that my mouth is hanging open and I'm blinking like a newborn in the light. Bertoffs is a Michelin-starred restaurant my dad has wanted to visit for a long time, and I think my mum would enjoy seeing Bruce. She met him a long time ago when she still danced competitively, before he struck stardom on the dancing shows on television.

"You're welcome," she says, and pretends to ignore me by turning back to the movie.

I'm part shocked, part madly happy, and part mad. I decide to tackle the initial emotion first.

"You arranged all that, and you didn't tell me?"

She gives a casual shrug and I ask, "When were you going to tell me?"

"Tonight."

"But I..." I trail off as I know where this is going. I asked for her help first. Which brings the mad back to the surface. "You put me through all that and you'd done it, anyway."

She grins at me. "You're too easy, Darcy, always have been."

I rock back away from her. "You evil witch." I always resort to insults when I'm mad at her.

"You're so cute when you're mad. Does Nick think so, too?"

I launch at her with a cushion, piling on top of her, trying to smother her while she cackles helplessly. I end up laughing, too. I'm still mad at her, but I am also grateful to her. Immensely grateful. Eventually, we subside and sit side by side on the couch, panting. She grins at me again.

"Thank you." I manage to be gracious this time, but a thought suddenly occurs to me.

"How did you know?"

"Oh please, Darcy, why do you think I left home? You should try it sometime. It'll do wonders for your sex life." She gets up and pushes past me. She picks up the bowl and heads to the kitchen to microwave some more popcorn. I stare after her. My sister has never mentioned anyone else in her life, never brought anyone home or introduced them to us.

I follow her, too intrigued to stay in front of the movie; not that we've been watching it for a while, anyway.

"You have a sex life?" I sit at the breakfast bar while she sets the microwave and fetches us a drink from the fridge.

"Just because I don't tell you something doesn't mean it doesn't happen."

"How come we've never met any of your, er, many partners?"

She turns round and her eyes flash. "Not many, just some, and not any I'd want to bring home."

It's my turn to tease her.

"Bad boys, biker boys, ones our parents wouldn't approve of?" I grin, and her sly smile lets me know that I'm not too far off the mark.

"You sly one. Anyone I can meet?" I raise my eyebrows suggestively.

"I thought you had a boyfriend."

Before I could protest that that wasn't what I meant, my brain catches on the word.

Boyfriend.

It seems to have weight to it.

Friend.

Best friend.

Boyfriend—I haven't even defined us on those terms. We've always been best friends.

I roll the word around my mouth, trying to feel the shape of it.

Boyfriend.

I practise in my head. Hello, this is Nick, he's my boyfriend.

I've never considered what that could mean—to me, to my family, in society. I guess I've always lived in a heteronormative world. Hetero until proven otherwise. Do I now have to define myself with a label—gay, bi—what am I?

I don't consider myself into guys. I consider myself into Nick.

Nick seems to navigate the world as a gay man quite well. I think back to Mark and Justin, and they seem to be happy. Maybe it's something I could do. Would clients think of me any differently? Would it reflect badly on the school? Would we lose clients? The thoughts bubble up and choke my mind. I can't breathe and start gasping for breath.

I don't know if what I'm doing is right; it shouldn't feel like this, should it?

Soothing hands rub up and down my back.

"Hey, it's okay." Claire's hands are calming, and I eventually manage to draw in steady breaths. After a few more minutes, I can sit up again.

"What was all that about?" she asks, while I try to sort out my racing thoughts and the implications of giving in to my feelings for Nick.

"What if people hate me now?" I whisper "What if people don't come to dance anymore?"

"Oh, Darcy." She draws me into a big sisterly hug. "No one could ever hate you."

"But I don't know what to do? I don't know how to be gay."

"Umm, I'm not the right person to ask about that."

I manage a small chuckle, as that's not what I meant.

"Oh lord, I think Nick's got his work cut out. But I also think you'll be fine. You just need to be you."

"Thank you." I sigh and try to take on her advice.

"How are the tryouts going?" she asks, putting the fresh bowl of popcorn on the counter in front of us. I take a handful and stuff some in my mouth, to give myself time to think about how to answer.

"The tryouts are awful," I eventually answer. "But I'm going to dance with Nick instead." Just the memory of how good it feels when we dance together lifts my mood. "He's really good. We dance well together."

"That's fantastic," she starts, looking delighted, but then her face falls. "You won't win. You know that, don't you?"

"Why? It's not against the rules."

"Darcy, that might be true but no one has ever entered as a same-sex partnership. The dance federation aren't ready for that. They won't put you first, even if you're the best in the room. Surely you must know that."

Her words settle over me, each one piercing my confidence. I deflate as I realise she's telling the truth. There is no way they'll let us win. It's a goal that I've been planning for most of my life—the ultimate competition. I have always had my eye on the Nationals. But even though I know that, the thought of dancing with anyone other than Nick makes me feel nauseous, and I know that I'd rather not dance at all than dance with someone else.

"I don't care. I want to dance with Nick."

Claire nods as if she knew that was going to be my answer. "Have you told Mum?"

"Not yet. We're going to surprise her at the regionals next week."

"She's not going to like it." She levels her gaze at me to make sure I understand.

"I can do what I like. It's my life," I protest.

"Yes, sure it is." She gives me a sad smile and I turn away, ignoring her meaning, my previous elation now a muted shackle around my chest.