Epilogue

Eleven months later

British National Ballroom Championships

This is what I live for. This is what I'm made for. This is my life.

This is our life.

I extend my hand to Nick, my best friend, my boyfriend, and my business partner. The man of a million smiles shares one of them with me as he takes my hand and we walk onto the dance floor.

Cheers greet us and I'm grateful for their support. Barry had arranged a coach to bring as many friends, family, and clients as he could cram into it.

The last year has been so busy we've hardly stopped. Neither of us thought the studio would be so successful, but it's turned out to be hugely popular and, because it's a safe and inclusive space, people come from all over the city to dance with us.

The events have also been a hit, and we've held a few different themed days and evenings, from different decades of dances to dances from different continents. We've also held, at the request of our clients, some queer-only events, and although we don't really want a reputation as a dating club, we know some romances have sprung up from people meeting at the studio.

As well as running the studio, we've been competing, and have had a few minor wins in regional competitions. All of that has brought us back to this point, dancing again at the Nationals, which this year are being held in Manchester.

The familiar strains of a waltz start, and Nick elegantly twirls from his extended starting position into my hold, and we move as one to the one-two-three, one-two-three beat. Nick has always been a good dancer, but as he's now dancing full time and, like me, puts one hundred and ten percent into everything, he is exceptional. He claims it's because he spent so long watching me and my ass shimmy across the dance floor.

I relax into the rhythm and the familiar movements of our choreography. We've practised this hundreds of times, and now we just add that little extra bit of showmanship. All the major dance competitions follow the same order of dances, so after a short rest while another category dances, we take to the floor for the tango.

It's always been a favourite of mine and I'm excited that soon I'll be able to try out the Argentine version. We've worked so hard for the last year that we agreed we needed a holiday. Along with starting up the studio, we've renovated the house. We modernised it, with stripped floors and simple colours. I never tire of waking up next to Nick in our huge bed, looking out at the stunning views across the valley and not quite believing how lucky I am. But I am looking forward to getting away for a while. It will be the first real holiday I've ever had. So after this competition, we're closing the school for a week and heading to Spain. It's not Buenos Aires, where I'd really love to go, but it's enough for now. I know we still need to be careful with money until the studio has been going for a few years. Something Nick, who with his typical Yorkshireman approach to finances, is adamant about. Buenos Aires has been promised for the future for an extended holiday, but Spain has its charms, especially since I found out about a queer tango club in Barcelona that we'll visit while we're there. We've been practising our Spanish, and when we take our final steps of the dance and finish in a move that has Nick low with his leg extended behind, and I support him, I look at him and whisper, "Mi amor."

Earning a whispered, "Cari?o, my sweet, my honey," in response.

When we start the foxtrot in its elegant sophistication, it strikes me I no longer suffer from the demons of the previous year. Although hard, I now can look back at it as an event that created the opportunity for this life that I wouldn't swap for any other. Doing what I love with the person I love most of all in the world.

The Viennese waltz is fast paced compared to the slow waltz and we're constantly turning and whirling round the dance floor, only just managing to get our breath back for the quickstep. The quickstep is another fast-paced dance and we incorporate as many hops, jumps, and skips as we can into the sweeping movements, as we swish through the music.

I'm grateful for the break, and Nick and I head to the dressing rooms to change into our Latin clothes.

Once we're ready, he sits down and accepts the water I hand him. I stand in front of him and he parts his legs so I can move closer between them.

"Do you think we have a chance this year?" he asks, his blond hair falling over his eyes. I resist the temptation to brush it back, knowing how particular he is about his hair.

"Well, we're dancing the best we ever have, but the competition is tough." It's not a lie. Last year's winners are dancing, as are Krystal and Andrew.

"Hmmm." He gives a non-committal response, apparently deep in thought. His hand caresses the back of my thigh, working its way to stroke my ass. The effect has my cock taking notice and I don't need that right now. Damn him and his magic hands.

"Babe?"

"Hmmm?" he responds.

"If you don't stop that, I'm going to find it difficult to dance."

That gets his attention, and he tips his head to smile up at me, a predatory look in his eyes. Dear God, he knows how much that look affects me.

"Don't we have time...?" He gives me a slow, seductive smile—it's not helping.

"No, we don't. We're due back on the dance floor in a few minutes."

He pouts slightly, and I have to smile.

"Get your horny ass out there."

"And later?"

"Later you can do whatever you want to mine," I promise and step out of his reach, turning away and adjusting myself, willing my semi away.

"I'll hold you to that promise." His voice is sexy and close to my ear as he's come up behind me. I turn my head to the side and capture his lips for a kiss, just as there's a knock on the door preventing me from deepening it, which is probably a good thing as my cock threatens to perk up again.

"Are you guys ready?" Claire is outside. She had offered to drive us to the competition, an offer we readily accepted as we'll be tired afterwards. And a sleep on the way home would be helpful as, whatever the outcome, a party has been arranged at the studio later. Again arranged by Barry, who has turned into one of our biggest supporters, much to the surprise of Nick and I.

We walk back to the hall with Claire while she gives us the results of the first half. Krystal and Andrew are currently leading the points table, and we're lying in second, with last year's winners in third, but it's very tight and it could be anyone's competition.

I start the cha-cha-cha nervous. I'd rather not have known the results. It's easier when you're not trying to win, but we're so close that we could actually do it. The dance passes quickly and the following samba is a blur. Last year I had something to prove, to show my family I could dance with whomever I chose, but this year I don't want to let Nick down. He understands me well enough to know something is bothering me.

"Are you alright, D?" Concern showing in the tightness of Nick's voice. The warmth of his hand on my back, his protective gesture, grounds me and I swallow to try curing the dryness in my mouth.

"How do you seem so calm?" I ask. Nothing seems to faze Nick.

"Because the result doesn't matter to me," he replies. "I'm doing something I love with you. That's a win for me, whatever the outcome."

I love his outlook on life and wish I could be the same instead of overthinking everything.

"Just enjoy this, D." He pulls me into a side hug. I relax into his touch and take some deep breaths. "I need you to focus for the rumba so you don't drop me on my ass," he says quietly, and it makes me laugh; such a Nick thing to say.

I don't let him fall, and put everything I can into the dance, which is another favourite of mine. Nick's face as we leave the dance floor shows me he enjoyed it too, and we've found our form. There are only two dances to go.

We've changed our choreography of the paso doble to make the most of our strength—precise and complex footwork—rather than relying on the showiness of a dress we don't have. We hope to show the drama of the dance, depicted as the relationship of the bull and bullfighter, as best we can. We portray it with the chemistry of push and pull energy. It's a gamble, but it shows how we can dance within the rules of the ballroom federation, just as two guys. If we can pull it off, it might just put us ahead. The final notes die away and Nick grins at me from where he finished the dance—on the floor. His look tells me he also thinks it went well. The applause is deafening as we take a bow at the end of the dance. I don't know if it's for us or one of the other five couples in the final, but it feels good. The cheers and whistles continue long after we leave the dance floor.

"Wow. Just wow," Claire says, when we come off the floor for a few minutes. "That was incredible."

"Thanks. We weren't sure it was going to work."

"It was bold." She's smiling. "Even though I can't get close to the judges, I think you have the popular vote given the comments that have been going on around me."

A couple of people come over to tell us how much they enjoyed the dance, and by the time we take to the floor for the last dance—the jive—I find I don't mind what the result is. We've shown what we were capable of in the paso doble, and that was enough for me. Anything else is a bonus.

"How're you feeling now?" Nick asks as we take our positions.

"I just want to dance with you," I reply, and when we start, I give myself over to the rhythm and dancing with Nick, and I truly enjoy the dance.

We finish and happiness floods through me. Whatever happens now is out of our hands.

We move to the small area for competitors as the judges make their minds up. Krystal comes to wish us well and I reply with the same sentiments, but I have nothing to say to her and Andrew. Claire waits with us, seemingly more excited than we are. My relationship with Claire has become a lot closer in the last year. She helped us out in the beginning; her marketing and media experience were really useful, and she helped us set up an Instagram account for the studio. Nick and I share videos of us dancing. Last month we topped a record of two hundred and fifty thousand followers, which I find quite bizarre really, but it certainly gets the studio name known. She often comes round to dinner with Nick and me, the last couple of times with Rich. He's a nice guy and they seem to get on well together. I think it's a big step that she wants to bring someone with her at all. She's even started coming to the studio to dance occasionally. I think she's always enjoyed it, but never wanted it forced on her, staying away in rebellion. The last time she brought Rich with her as well and taught him some steps.

I'm sitting next to Nick, our legs touching, but I'm talking to Claire when he leg-bumps me. I look at him and he indicates with his head past me. I turn and see my dad standing there.

Claire sees him at the same time and goes straight over and gives him a hug. I stand, but hang back a little.

"That was really special, son," he says. "I'm proud of you."

I haven't seen him in six months. He came to visit us a few times, but he never looked settled, like he'd lost his purpose. He'd served divorce papers on Mum, and when that was finalised, he went off on a round-the-world trip. I didn't know he was back in the country. I've had no contact with my mum, nor do I want to. She's occasionally seen, photographed with Bruce, so there might be something there, but I don't much care. She can't hurt me anymore.

I look at my dad, and he seems happier than when I last saw him, though little lines of worry show round his mouth as he looks at me tensely. I think back to the bond I was starting to form with him when I first got together with Nick. I realise I would like to try to see if we could have that bond again.

I step forward and hug him. "I've missed you, Dad," I tell him, because it's true, and he squeezes me harder.

There's movement on the dance floor, and the presenter informs the audience that they're about to announce the winners. Despite not being too bothered about the results, I still need to wipe my sweaty palms on my trousers as my stomach flips.

We line up with the other five couples and they start by calling out Krystal and Andrew in third place. She looks a little peevish for a second before she plasters a smile on her face. Last year's winners are in second and while my heart starts hammering at the thought that we might have won, I remind myself of the three other couples who were dancing. The points were close all throughout the competition.

Then they're calling us out first. We've done it. The first time a same-sex couple has won the National Championships. The cheering is deafening and I can't quite believe it. Nick gives me the greatest grin and I jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. He spins me round and then kisses me, in front of the judges, the camera, everyone, and I don't care, as my world only exists in the deep blue eyes of the man I love.