Chapter 38

"What do you think?" Nick asks, as he stops his dad's van in the car park of what looks to be a derelict building. Not that I can see much from the jungle of weeds that obscure the view. But Nick seems excited, so I try to sound positive. I fail.

"Um, okay, I guess." I'm not sure what I'm looking at. He said it was a surprise. Last time he told me there was a surprise he'd booked us into a hotel for a night. This definitely wasn't a hotel. He doesn't look too downcast by my less than lukewarm response.

"Wait until you see inside." He clambers out of the van and I follow. With the entire site now visible, I can see that, whilst overgrown, it doesn't look as bad as I first thought.

He leads the way to a door in the centre of the building. It opens into a space, but Nick is already bounding forward.

"Kitchen," he announces, gesturing towards a door to his right. "Changing rooms." Another door, and I try to keep up with him, attempting to take it all in. "Storeroom." A final door, but then he makes a sudden left turn and opens some double doors into a large space. He throws his arms wide and turns around in a complete circle.

"Now, what do you think?" His blue eyes are shining.

I look around the space. Well, it could work as a dance studio. In fact, it could be a really good one. It already has a great wooden floor, but the building needs a lot of work. Even I can see it's not usable as it is, and an entire building must be expensive and...

"I can see you're overthinking." Nick drops his arms and comes over to stand in front of me.

"I have just one question," he says. I look at him and nod my head.

"Okay." He can ask his question.

"Could you see this as a dance studio?"

I look round the room again and I know the answer. Still, the enormity of something like this is too much. I was thinking of renting somewhere for a couple of hours a week. I look back at his hopeful expression and answer.

"Yes, but?—"

"No buts," he cuts in. "Hear me out, please?"

Again, I nod. He takes my hand and holds it between us, slowly tracing a finger over the back of it, focussing on that rather than looking at me.

"Do you know I used to be envious of you?" he starts, his voice poignant. I can't imagine anyone being envious of my joke of a life.

"I used to dream that I'd been born into a dancing family. That I had the opportunity to dance all day and go to competitions."

"You know that's not what it's cracked up to be," I say, and he looks at me with a sad smile.

"Yes, but what I'm trying to say is that I always had a dream to dance, perhaps to teach like you. This place needs a lot of work, but it's work we can do. This could be our place. We could run it—together. You saw how many of Justin and Mark's friends wanted lessons as well. We could make it an inclusive place, for people like us."

I look at the hope brimming in his blue eyes.

There's a lot of potential, I just don't have the means to do anything about it.

"Since the competition, I've had a load of emails in the school's inbox, most of them enquiring about lessons. I haven't had the heart to answer them," I reply, and his smile broadens, thinking of the possibilities. But I don't know what it will cost him. I need to know that.

"How much?" I ask.

"Nothing we can't manage."

"No, Nick. You are not going to dismiss this question. All my life people have fobbed me off with half the information and kept things from me. I want to know how much, and I always want to know the truth. Okay?"

His shoulders sag as he realises he's acted the same as everyone around me. He apologises, then tells me a figure and the terms he'd negotiated. Even then it seems huge to me. I'm struck by the gesture, so grateful that it hurts in my chest, but I can't have him do that for me.

"I can't let you do that," I say.

"I'm not asking you to," he flashes back. "I'm doing it for us, for our future, for something we can do together, D. I thought you might want that."

He drops my hand and walks over to some windowed doors that look like they would fold back, opening the space up. I follow him and see the flat but overgrown lawn outside.

"I do want that Nick," I say, and I feel him take a breath next to me waiting for the but—which he knows is coming. It breaks my heart to do it to him, but I have to anyway because I really need to make sure. "That money was for you to buy a house, and that can't happen now. I don't want to be the reason for you not being able to have a place of your own."

"Our own," he says. "It was always going to be ours, D. Do you think I haven't thought of that? So it'll take a bit longer to save up again, but we'll manage. We can make it work, I know we can. It'll be hard at first. We have to fix this place up before we can do anything, but I can always do some work for my dad to keep us going. I think he'll be happy to have Alan helping him instead of me. I think he feels a bit guilty that he can't offer him more work. But now he can, and I can help when needed for extra money."

"You've worked this all out, haven't you?" I look at him and he turns from staring out of the window.

"Of course I have." His smile is so sweet. I don't deserve him, I know that, but I love him. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather go through this with and it would be fun to do it together. I swing my gaze back to look out the window.

"That lawn would make a great space to hold events, wouldn't it?"

He doesn't reply, he just reaches for my hand and holds it tight.

"Twinkle Toes," I suggest.

"Really? How old are you? Twelve?" Nick snorts and I throw Bearlero at him, which he deftly catches, but to my mild annoyance, doesn't hand him back. I think better when I have something to do with my hands and without him, I don't know what to do with them.

"Still younger than you," I retort. We're sitting on the bed, trying to come up with a name for the new dance studio. We've spent hours going through it all. Through all the start-up costs we can think of, what clients we know we could already have, and a marketing plan for finding more. We've worked out roughly what needs doing to the building, and have the start of a project plan for that. Nick's dad has roped Alan and Barry in to help, and Doreen said she had some friends willing to lend a hand. All we need to do now is register a business, and for that, we need a name.

"Two Men and a Dance Floor," Nick says and I let out a groan.

"Accurate, but hardly catchy."

"Still better than it sounding like you're a ballerina. When are you going to treat us to the ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy?'" He smirks and I launch myself at him, smothering him with a pillow and wrestling Bearlero off him. No one gets to insult me and hold my bear at the same time, not even him.

"Dancing Feet," I offer, and Nick mulls it over. It's better than any of our suggestions so far.

"Who would've thought this would be so hard?" he grumbles, and I can't disagree.

We're both silent for a few moments and I try to come up with something else.

"Cool Shoes," Nick throws in.

"Roll over Fred Astaire," I reply and he laughs, but it's not that bad. "We'll add it into the mix."

We lapse into silence again.

"Step by Step," Nick offers again. He's good at this.

"Since when were you a New Kids' fan?" I giggle, and he holds his hand to his chest and says solemnly.

"Once a Blockhead, always a Blockhead."

"Really? How did I miss that?" Then I catch his smirk and almost throw something at him again.

"You're such a dick," I mutter.

"What was that? You want my dick?" His smile turns predatory, and he moves fast. Before I can stop him, he has me pressed to the bed, sitting astride my hips, and my hands pinned to either side of my head. I make a half-hearted attempt to struggle out of his grasp, but he holds me down, a grin on his face.

He looks at me for a few seconds, as if he's deciding what to do. Then he spots that my T-shirt has ridden up, exposing part of my stomach, and from the look in his eyes, I know exactly what he's going to do. He grabs the edge of my shirt with his teeth and pulls it up further to gain more access, then licks a stripe right across my abs.

"Eww, that's disgusting," I protest, making a greater effort to throw him off. He laughs and lies down next to me while I use my T-shirt to wipe his saliva off my skin.

He props himself up on his elbow.

"Still a dick," I say, giving him a look.

"Careful, I might not be so lenient next time." He laughs.

"So, where were we before you started misbehaving?" He laughs again. "Oh, yes. Which one did you have a crush on then?" That gets me a glare and I figure I've got my own back.

"Step by Step isn't bad as a name, though," I say.

Nick stares off for a minute before speaking. "What about New Steps?"

"New Steps?" I like it. It works.

"It's new for us, and we will be fully inclusive, so it kind of fits."

"Yes, I like it." I grin at him. "You're a genius."

"I thought I was a dick."

"A genius dick," I answer, and kiss him because, well, he's both those things, and I love him for it.