Dance With Me In the Pouring Rain

“You coming tonight?” Kyle asked me as we walked out of school the next day.

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “Tonight. We’re going to Hassan’s for a Fifa tournament. Remember?”

“Uh, sorry, I forgot,” I replied. “I’m meeting Tory after school.”

Kyle stopped in his tracks. “It starts,” he said in a deadly whisper. “Passing your best friends up for a measly girl.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Shut up, Kyle. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, and I’m Robin van Persie,” he retorted.

“I suppose I could come over later,” I muttered guiltily. I never missed our X-box tournaments.

“Good boy,” Kyle said approvingly. “So, is Tory okay? I really didn't mean to foul her, honest.”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” I replied.

“She’s so… fit,” Hassan sighed appreciatively.

“For once, Hassan, I agree,” Kyle added. “She’s gorgeous!”

Rolling my eyes, I turned to Jordan. “What about you?”

He shrugged. “She’s okay, I guess.”

“So,” Kyle said casually, a mischievous gleam in his eye, “you banging her yet?”

“Kyle!” I objected. “We’re just friends, for the last time.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Call me when you get back from your tour of Denial.”

“Hilarious,” I muttered. “Bye, guys.”

“Your lady calls,” Hassan mocked.

Ignoring them, I walked off towards the park.

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“Prithee, how fairest thou on this fine day?” I heard a familiar voice ask.

I looked up from my position on the bench with a raised eyebrow. “Prithee? Is that even a word?”

“Art thou criticising my way of speech?” Tory exclaimed, limping over to sit next to me on the bench. “Art thou besmirching my good name with thine outrageous accusations?”

“Seriously, Tory, what's going on?” I asked hesitantly.

“Mine friends and I art endeavouring to speak in tongues this fine day,” she replied primly. “Mine tongue is that of Shakespearian English.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course it is. How come I didn't get that?”

“Dost thou think me a simpleton?” she cried. “Dost thou think I canst not understand thou mocks me?”

“You might understand, but I sure as hell don’t,” I muttered. “Can you talk English, please? And English English, not that Shakespeare shit.”

“Aye,” she nodded gravely. “It is a wee bit much for ye the-day.”

“Irish?” I queried, an eyebrow raised.

“I can do a freshie accent if you would understand me better,” she attempted, in a surprisingly flawless Indian accent.

“Stop with the accents, please,” I groaned. “My head hurts enough as it is.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I’ll do a posh accent. Technically, it still counts.”

I nodded resignedly. “How’s your leg?”

“It bothers myself sometimes, but mostly it is fine,” she replied.

“So, how’s your day been?” I asked.

“Simply marvellous!” she exclaimed, smiling widely. “It was frightfully chilly this morning, but it cheered up eventually, to tip-top weather conditions! My friend, are you undertaking anything this fine evening?”

I grinned, trying to contain a guffaw. “Yeah, I’m going to Hassan’s for an X-box tournament.”

“That sounds like jolly good fun,” she replied. “Could you wait for a second? I am getting a call on my mobile telephone.” She pulled out her phone and slid it up. “Hello, my darling Alice. How is my marvellous friend this fine afternoon? Wait. She what? So I won? Yay! Okay, see you tomorrow. Yeah, I can’t wait to get my prize. Bye Ally!”

She turned to me, grinning. “The others cracked. I won!”

“Yeah, I heard,” I replied casually. “So no more accents?”

“No more accents,” she assured me.

I sighed with relief. “Thank God for that.”

Smiling at me, she leaned towards me and rested her head on my shoulder. I resisted the urge to tangle my hands up in her hair, and resorted to clenching them at my sides. Her close proximity was making my insides go haywire. My heart was pounding so loudly it was a miracle she couldn’t hear it.

“Aren’t you going to go for a run?” she asked.

“I only run when I’m angry,” I admitted awkwardly, unsure whether I should tell her or not. “I’m not angry.”

She lifted her head slightly to look at me. “You must get angry an awful lot, though. You run almost every day.”

“Not when I’m with you,” I pointed out.

She smiled, returning her head to my shoulder. “And why’s that?”

Because I don’t need to, I replied silently. You calm me down and make me happier than anything in this whole entire world.

But I couldn’t tell her that. Heck, I'd only met her last week. You don’t say that kind of thing to a girl you hardly know.

“I don't know,” I replied, semi-honestly.

She seemed content with that. “Fletch, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you so angry all the time?”

I stiffened. She felt it and hastily backtracked.

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have asked-”

I nodded tightly, then realised she couldn’t see. “Yeah. Well.”

You don’t tell that kind of thing to a girl you hardly know, either.

“So,” she said quickly, changing the subject, “you haven’t called me yet. I need your number, else I can’t contact you.”

“I added you on MSN,” I reminded her.

“But you're never online,” she reminded me.

“Fine, I’ll come online after I get back from Hassan’s.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I replied. “Speaking of which, I have to go. The guys already think I’m bailing on them.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up. “Guys. You're so strange sometimes. Scratch that, you're strange all the time.”

“Oi!” I protest. “I take great offence at that ludicrous statement!”

She raised an eyebrow and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back, sniffing surreptitiously.

Or not-so surreptitiously.

“You know, you smelling me kind of makes me feel kind of creeped out,” she informed me teasingly.

“But you smell great!” I exclaimed. “What is it, if it’s not perfume?”

“My secret recipe,” she whispered, winking at me as she strolled away.

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"Fletch!" Hassan greeted me. "You came."

"'Course I did," I retorted. "When have I ever missed a Fifa tournament?"

I followed him upstairs to his room, where Jordan and Kyle were playing. Kyle was yelling at the screen, while simultaneously stuffing crisps in his mouth and Jordan, as ever, was silent, his forehead furrowed with concentration.

Kyle threw down the remote with disgust. "He trashed me."

"How much?" I asked.

"Eleven nil," Jordan informed me with a touch of pride.

Kyle winced. "Yeah. Thanks, Jordan."

"No problem," he replied cheerfully. Winning always made him more chatty. "So, what's the deal with you and Tory?"

I shrugged uncomfortably, taking a controller. "I don't know what you mean."

Jordan snorted. "Mate, it's obvious to anyone with half a brain that you like her." I merely grunted, selecting my team: Arsenal. "So why haven't you asked her out?"

"Like she'd say yes," I muttered. "Look, we're friends. I don't want to ruin that."

"Well if you're not going to ask her out, can I have her number?" Kyle piped up.

I glared at him. "No."

"You missed!" Hassan exclaimed. "You rock at his game!"

"She must be pretty special," Jordan said softly.

I stared at the floor. "Yeah. She is."

"Then we've got to help you get with her," he said. I just loved how he made it sound so simple. "Hey, have you still got the ice-skating tickets?"

A little while ago, I had won a pair of ice-skating tickets in a school competition. I had never used them, and to be honest I’d kind of forgotten about them. Frowning, I nodded suspiciously.

"Here's what you do..." Jordan started, leaning forward conspiratorially.

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"Hello?"

At the sound of Tory's voice, I panicked. I looked round at the others. Jordan gave me a reassuring thumbs-up and I turned back to the phone.

"Uh, hi Tory. It's me, Fletch," I replied, chewing my lip.

"Fletch!" she exclaimed. They smirked collectively. "I was wondering when you'd call. I haven't seen you since Tuesday!"

I rolled my eyes. "That was only two days ago, Tory."

The guys had told me to wait a few days before calling her, to make her nervous or something. It seemed to have worked.

"So? I still missed you," she said matter-of-factly.

A smile spread involuntarily across my face. "Me too."

Kyle groaned. "You don't say that to a girl. She's going to think you're desperate!"

There was a pause. "Say hi to Kyle for me," Tory said shrewdly.

"Tory says hi," I told him, cupping a hand over the phone.

"Am I on speakerphone?" she asked bluntly.

"Yeah," I replied helplessly, and the others groaned.

"Turn it off," she ordered. "So, did you have a reason for calling, or did you just want to show off in front of your friends?"

"Actually," I said quickly, "I have these tickets for the ice rink and none of my friends want to go with me so I wondered if you would."

There was silence for a bit.

“Tory?” I said hopefully. “You still there?”

“Yeah. Ice-skating, you say?” she echoed. “I can’t ice skate.”

“Oh. I could teach you.”

“I don’t like ice-skating,” she said bluntly.

“Why not?”

“I just don’t, okay?” she snapped.

“Okay,” I said, stung.

She must have picked it up in my voice, because she sighed. “Sorry. I didn't mean to go off at you.”

“It’s okay,” I said understandingly. “So, do you want to come?”

“When is it?”

“This weekend,” I replied, daring to hope.

“I may as well,” she said resignedly. “I’m not doing anything else.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t the enthusiastic response I was hoping for, but it would have to do. “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” she echoed.

“Look, Tory, what's wrong?” I asked concernedly. “You sound upset.”

She sighed heavily. “It doesn’t matter. Shall I meet you at the ice rink at five o'clock on Saturday?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” I replied. “You know, Tory, if you want to talk to me, I’ll listen.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Bye.”

“Bye,” I repeated, as she hung up.

“So, what did she say?” Hassan asked anxiously. “Is she going?”

I nodded, but something didn't feel right. Tory didn't seem… herself.

“What is it?” Jordan asked.

I shrugged. “Nothing.”