Page 30 of Dance Dirty With Me

“Well, I guess that’s all you would see, isn’t it?”

I don’t wait for an answer, I just jump down the steps and walk away.

When I get to my car, Baby is leaning against it waiting for me. I stand in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be, sweetheart.”

I cup his face and wipe away the tracks of his tears with my thumb. I rest my forehead against his and breathe deeply. I knew it was too good to last, but I hate that it’s ended this way. I’ll never find anyone with as much goodness and bravery as him. I swallow back my own tears. I’m not going to let them out here. I don’t want him to see me like that. I’ll save them for later, when I’m alone, like I’m destined to be.

I think of all the dreams Baby talked about. I’m right that they’d never happen, but I wish I was wrong, as it hurts like hell to be right.

There’s nothing more to say. Goodbye seems so final, and if I don’t say it then maybe I can borrow a bit of his hope and pretend it isn’t real. My heart breaks from the weight of both love and sadness.

I ghost a kiss across his lips, just a touch, like it’s already a memory, resisting the urge to never let him go, but that isn’tfor us.

I climb into my car and drive away, looking at him in my rear-view mirror until he’s no longer in sight.

I curl up in the dunes, not wanting to go back to my family just yet. I have no clue what their reaction will be and I can’t face it. I didn’t know that feeling deeply for someone could hurt this much. Everything feels so raw. I’m wearing his shirt and I bury my head into it. After I could no longer see his car and I knew he wasn’t coming back, I went by his cabin, not ready to leave the spaces we shared. I saw this shirt hanging on the back of his chair, probably forgotten when he left. I catch his scent on it and I let the tears fall, soaking into it.

Eventually, after dinner time and I’ve cried myself dry, I walk slowly to my cabin, knowing I should check in with them but reluctant all the same. I walk in through the door and both my parents are sitting at the small table. My father doesn’t say anything, but my mum gasps when she sees me and rises. She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight.

“I love you, Baby,” she whispers into my neck. I try not to letthe tears fall again when I hug her back. I go into the room I share with Lisa.

She’s lying on her bed but sits up when I enter. I drop down on my bed with a sigh.

“You’re still my little brother, you know?” she says.

I look up at her and try to smile, grateful that she hasn’t taken it badly or called me a freak, or worse, just ignored me.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” she asks.

“I was too scared, Lisa. Society doesn’t like people like me. What if you didn’t like me? Dad already isn’t speaking to me.”

I shift back on the bed to rest against the wall, and pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them.

“I think you’re lucky, you at least found someone.”

I huff a laugh that’s devoid of any hint of humour.

“Fat lot of good it did me, now that he’s gone.” I drop my head onto my arms, letting the misery wash over me. I feel the bed dip beside me as Lisa climbs on. She hugs me and I lay my head on her arm. We haven’t done that for a long time.

I don’t leave the cabin at all the next day. Lisa brings me some breakfast but I have no appetite. I try to read but find it hard to settle. It’s our last day. Tomorrow we go home. I have to go back to my old life, packing to go to university. But nothing will be the same. I feel different; I am different. Everything has changed since I’ve been here.

Tonight is the last show of the season, including the singing competition and the final of the beauty contest. I really don’t feel like going but I want to support Lisa.

I stare into the small mirror, not liking how ashen my face looks.

“I look terrible.” I pull at my cheeks and grimace.

“I can help you with that,” Lisa says, directing me to sit and pulling her makeup bag closer.

“I’m not about to start wearing that stuff,” I protest, peering into the bag that contains a bewildering array of tubes and colourful powders. It wasn’t this complicated when Penny did my makeup for the show.

“Keep still,” she says, “It’ll hardly look like anything.” It certainly feels like a lot with everything she applies, but when she finally allows me to look in the mirror again, I do look better. I have more of my natural colour, and I don’t look made up like a clown, as I’d feared I would.

“That’s pretty good,” I say, and she looks pleased before pushing me out of the way so she can do her own makeup for the competition.

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