My wrist is sore from tripping over my own feet. I kneed my palm as I gently twist my wrist, flinching at every sting of pain. I should probably stop, but I'm also in the middle of a lecture from my dance teacher. 

"When your feet meet the floor of my dance halls, you should let go of whatever's going on in your life. That stuff is for out there. In here, you learn how to glide on your feet, not trample over them." Cindy stands tall, face serious and stern. 

I can't believe I fucked up so badly. I should be separating my private and work life. Keeping them mixed seems like an even bigger disaster waiting to happen. Though it doesn't help when other people steal the whisk.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll do better next week and I'll practice all weekend." I move my hand down to hold my wrist in place to ease the throbs. 

"Remember to take care of yourself too. Whatever is bugging you isn't nearly as important as your health, especially in terms of your career. We can't have an injured, sick dancer." She nods to my arm.

Although she can be scary she really isn't bad. She's just very… Serious. I guess I see why when there's so much to get done. And the key things she finally drilled into me are persistence and determination. 

"Looks like your ride is here." She waves to Fahim as he enters the lobby. “Hello. This one hurt his wrist. Sorry you have to babysit.” She smiles as he stands by us.

Fahim looks at me and to my wrist, his eyebrows arched in such a dad way. “Great.”

“I’m not that incapable.”

“You already got me as your chaperone.”

“My Aunt’s busy. And I know how to drive! Just don’t have a car yet…” I defend myself, straightening up, ready to leave.

“Good luck with that one,” Cindy smirks, eyes connected with Fahim’s.

But he doesn’t seem ready to leave just yet. “Oh, we’re going to get a meal. You should join us sometime.”

“That’s sweet but I’d like to not see Jem more than I have to. Including the times his face pops up in the media.”

“Rude.”

“Maybe a time without him?” She suggests, her scary exterior drifting gently away. How the hell… Oh, she has it bad for him.

“I’ll email you.” Fahim responds, a small white smile flashing between his cheeks for a few seconds.

Then we’re on our way to the car.

“Don’t say a word.” He holds a finger up, his other hand turning the ignition.

In the middle of clipping my seatbelt, I can’t say the words weren’t forming at the tip of my tongue. “I wasn’t going to.” I lie.

“Good.” the car starts and we pull out. “We’re meeting Adekemi too. She wants to know how you’re doing.” 

“Oh, okay.” I turn to watch the buildings as they fly by, a smile forming beneath the hand that keeps my head propped up. I feel so lucky to have the people I do in my life.

We arrive at the restaurant and I quickly spot Emi in the window. I waste no time making my way to her, past the busy tables and buzzing conversations. She’s sat on a sofa seat in the window, two curved wooden chairs sitting empty across the table to her.

I slide right in next to her causing her to flinch her gaze up from her phone. “Jem!” She smiles.

“And me.” 

“Fahim!” She uses the same tone, laughing afterwards.

“Thank you.” He sits across from us, using the remaining chair for his bag.

“Fahim and my dance teacher have a thing going on!” I blurt out, feeling so much lighter after having to stay silent for so long.

“What? Isn’t your teacher Cindy Lovell?” Emi looks between Fahim and I, intrigue written all over her big eyes. I hum in response.

“Jeremiah.” 

“Oh, bringing out the full name. You’re in trouble.” She giggles.

Fahim sighs, cupping his face in one of his large hands, “I actually feel like a dad around you sometimes.”

I try to maintain an offended look, crumbling by my tickled laughter. "Jeremiah is hardly a threatening name."

We all chat for a while, Emi making sure I’m okay after the lunch incident, then moving onto how Emi is doing, a few teasing sentences thrown at Fahim too. 

We laugh, eat and drink happily into the evening. The sun sets and light rain sprinkles itself over the wide windows. White streetlights and the pink, blue lights of neighbouring store signs sparkle in the raindrops. It looks cold and damp, almost making me want to throw my sweater back over my head. Yet people continue to roam the streets with hoods up and the odd umbrella shielding their heads.

“Jem, there’s an update.” Fahim steals my attention away from the view.

“About who hacked my phone?” I ask hopefully, but he shakes his head.

“Not yet. I do wonder what’s taking them so long. But no, this is kind of funny.” He slides his phone across the table to me, opened on a text post thread.

I notice some attached images and click them, keeping the screen in view of Emi. They’re more screenshots of messages, the backgrounds a dark grey and text bubbles light pink. Like my phone.

Nerves ripple through my body. I start reading.

— Tuesday, 24 November —

Neighbour Boy, 17:44 I’m so tired Just 15 more minutes and I get to go hoome

You, 17:46 Stop slacking off! 15 mins is still work time

Neighbour Boy, 17:46 I‘d rather text you for 15 minutes

You, 17:47 Don’t blame me when you get fired

Neighbour Boy, 17:47 Oh I will. And then you’d have to take me in to make up for it.

You, 17:47 Or I could do other things to make up for it ;)

Neighbour Boy, 17:48 What are you suggesting?

You, 17:49 3 options. We could meet in the shower, already wet and slippery-

I lift my head back up, having read more than I wanted to. Oh my lord.

Emi bursts into laughter, finishing the thread shortly after me. “I love your fanbase!”

“Told you it’s funny.”

“Funny?!” I protest, still trying to process what the hell I just read, “Do people think this is real?” I pick the phone back up to sift through comments.

“Some seem to. Others are sticking up for your privacy and some are in denial about you being in a relationship - barely mentioning the ones baffled by the thought of you being queer.”

I sit back against the sofa seat, my arms now at my sides. I can’t believe it took this turn. I really should’ve, this is the internet. 

“Oh my god,” Emi continues laughing, “get ready for the texting fanfics. I’ll be reading every single one of them.” I nudge her arm, only bringing more laughter from her.

“What if Isaac sees these!”

“That’d be even better,” I nudge her again and catch her fist as she pulls it up to hit me back, a huge grin still adorning her dark features.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I stop to take it out. A text from Isaac fills the screen: a picture of another thread post captioned by Isaac with “At least they don’t kink shame”.

Emi reads it over my shoulder and pokes my reddening cheeks, her contagious laughter infecting Fahim and then myself, as embarrassed as I am.

~~~

I got home late, slid my shoes off and wandered into the kitchen where my parents sat. They greeted me, mugs in hand, and smiled between each other.

Something felt weird but I couldn't pinpoint it. I was too tired. 

But now, seconds later, I realise.

"What's dad doing here?" And why are you both so happy to be in a room together? Not that they had a bad breakup but they certainly aren't friends. 

"I told you your dad wanted to call you, well I invited him round instead." My mom smiles. 

"He lives in Derbyshire." I point out but my dad waves his hand dismissively. 

"S'only an hour or so away. I haven't seen you in months and you have a lot going on right now so I made time." He brushes the snug beard around his jaw and holds his mug up for another sip.

I sit with them, accepting a cookie from my mom. "You invited me to stay with you for a bit right?" I ask and get straight to munching. 

He nods, "I was thinking early January while you're still on break from University. I'm sure you could fit a week or two into your concert prep schedule or whatever you do for that."

I think it over while I finish the delicious chocolate cookie – so good. "My breaks are slightly different at the open uni, but I can take that with me. However, last time I was there your wifi sucked."

He smiles with slightly raised eyebrows, "I swapped it to the one you told me about." a proud smile. 

"So it's better now?" 

He falters, his smile vanishing, "I think. I don't use it, you'd have to be mad to live in a place like that and sit inside all day!"

My mom laughs, probably at the fact that in 8 years my dad hasn't changed one bit. He isn't opposed to technology – far from it, actually. He's often amazed at new tech and loves getting new gadgets. But as an extreme nature lover and liver, it almost feels like a crime to ask him to stay inside for longer than he has to.

About a year ago I decided to save up some money to take him on a long holiday to Norway: a place he's always wanted to go. Though I also want to take my mom back up to Latvia. 

Let's hope this new album is a hit, huh. 

"I'd love to come down. Though as well as my uni work I'll be practicing for the concerts probably." I fidget in my seat. The concerts seem so far away right now, 3 months away. 

But I know that time will fly past. 

"I'll take you on hikes, I found some new trails you'll love. That'll keep you exercised." He smiles, clearly excited to have me over. 

"Real trails?" 

"It's been less than a year since you last visited, you think they'd have opened new trails since then?" He tuts as if it's obvious. 

Which it is. My dad would probably qualify to join mountain rescue teams with quick training considering all of his experience. 

A surge of happiness filters through me, instilling a much needed calm. Among all the chaos I have a clear break, a time to relax and in nature no less. A rest with the swarms of birds chirping from trees, the rush of a distant river and the crisp, clear breeze the middle of winter brings.

Extra

Neighbour Boy, 19:02 At least they don't kink shame.