Chapter 21 – Carpe Diem

She didn't go to the next rehearsal.

Call it cowardice, call it childishness, Alex didn't care, but she couldn't bring herself to go. She wasn't mad at Blake anymore, and that was half the problem, because without the anger what was there? Only her crush and that was making things difficult as it was.

She knew she should have let him know, but she wasn't quite ready to speak to him. After everything that had happened the other day, and her breaking down in front of him, she wasn't sure she could meet his grey eyes and not have the same thing happen again. Worse still, she was sure being around him would trick her feelings out of her, and she didn't want to embarrass herself.

Alex thought he'd be cross, but when she saw him in school the next day, he just looked miserable, and resigned like he'd expected her actions and been defeated by them. When he caught her eye, something indistinguishable passed his over his face – it looked vaguely like hope – but she turned away swiftly and went to her next class.

She was alone in the library, studying during lunch for a midterm she had coming up later in the week, when a shadow crossed over the textbook she was reading. She looked up without thinking, supposing it might be the librarian and had to contain her surprise when she saw it was Blake. He didn't say anything; instead, he stood there, hands in his pockets, very still, staring at her.

"Hi," she said eventually, surprised at how normal she sounded.

"Hi," he repeated. "Can I sit down?"

"Sure," she shrugged, "but I was about to leave."

"Well, I want to talk to you, so can you just stay for a minute?"

As she stuffed a book in her back hastily, she froze, and Blake took that as his cue to sit down opposite her. She hadn't noticed it before but he looked terrible – drawn and pale, and weary. He ran a hand through his messy hair and put an elbow on the table, propping his chin up with his fist.

"You've stopped coming to rehearsals," he said quietly.

"I-I-I told you," she started, "I was going to find another partner."

"I know, but I still think we should stick together." He paused briefly, looking at her carefully, and eventually put his arms out in an open gesture. "Come on Alex – let's stop fighting and move on. Please?"

"No."

"I thought you said you'd forgiven me?"

"I did," she shot back quickly, before closing her eyes and sighing. "But I guess I'm still mad over everything."

"I'd never have guessed," Blake deadpanned.

She tossed him a glare to shut him up, but still didn't say anything.

Blake sighed wearily and raked his hands through his hair again. "Look, I get it – I screwed up the other weekend, and believe me, no one is more sorry than I am. But I can't do this. If it's what you want, we don't have to live in each other's pockets anymore, but I can't stand fighting with you all the time. It's not fun, I don't enjoy it ok?" He paused. "Why can't we just rewind, and go back to when everything was ok?"

He said it mostly to himself, but Alex caught the meaning of every word. She wished the same too – how happy she had been, when Blake was her friend, and none of the drama of the past few weeks had occurred.

"I really need you," he muttered. "I need you to come back ok?"

Alex blinked and looked down at her notes, not really seeing them properly. What did that mean? The great Blake Collins needed her?

"Alex..." He was almost begging now. "Say something."

"We'll keep it professional though," she said blankly, lifting her chin. "No unnecessary lifts, no hanging out unless it's for a class project. We'll just work together."

Blake frowned slightly and took a deep breath. "If that's what you want."

She nodded slowly. "It's for the best I think."

He didn't look as though he agreed with her, but for once he didn't argue. "Fine," he said, rising from his chair and tucking it under the table. "See you on Monday then?"

She nodded again, managing a smile. Alex watched him go as he walked away, and before she could stop herself, she called out after him. He spun around, looking expectant, and that vague glimmer of hope was back. "I...I'm sorry too. For the way I've been acting," she added, tucking some hair behind her ears. "And thanks again, for the other day."

He offered her a smile, which didn't quite reach his eyes, and he turned away again.

XXXXX

William drummed his fingers on the counter in the kitchen, watching the seconds hand move on the clock. In the past seventeen years, Alex had been a good daughter; she'd never given him much cause for concern, she worked hard, she made him proud. But the past few weeks she'd began to trouble him, and if he didn't get to the bottom of it sooner or later, he was afraid she was going to stay that way.

Not to say that he didn't know exactly what the source of the problem was, he thought, sipping some coffee from his mug. Didn't take a genius to figure out what – or rather who – had altered her. But Alex hadn't said a word about Blake, or their fight, or whether they'd resolved it. That was what was odd – her silence on the matter. Alex was particularly good at concealing her feelings from most people, but William prided himself on being able to read her better than anyone. She was hurt and trying very hard to push past her feelings and concentrate on something, anything, else. It wasn't as if William could speak to Blake about it. He hadn't come round. He hadn't dropped her off. He hadn't been near the house in weeks, in person or in word. She never mentioned him unless he was brought up in conversation. She was avoiding the subject of Blake Collins vehemently.

Putting his mug down and glancing at the clock again, William made a noise at the back of his throat and paced out of the kitchen. He was determined to wheedle it out of her today, whether she wanted to talk about it or not. She couldn't go on acting as if she hadn't lost a good friend.

William knocked gently on his daughter's bedroom door, and heard the quiet 'come in'. He stepped in to find her lying on her stomach on her double bed with a textbook propped up on the pillow in front of her and a notebook with a few paragraphs scrawled on. Her room was tidy, but her purple curtains were slightly askew as if they'd been thrown open rather than tied back with the cord that was there.

"Hey, Bug," he said sitting on the end of her bed. She glanced back at him and spun around so she was sat crossed legged and staring at him with a smile. William took in her sweater and jeans and noting that she wasn't crying, and she wasn't still in her pyjamas, but something still seemed a little dark about her. He searched her face; she looked a little tired perhaps but asides from that, there was nothing on the outside to indicate there was anything wrong. "Doing homework?"

"Trying, but its not going very well. I think I need lunch," she smiled, closing her text books and arranging them into a pile.

"I was just coming to see if you wanted a sandwich or something."

She nodded. "Don't worry – I'll make it. You've probably got work to do."

He smiled at his daughter and ruffled her hair. "You like to take of me, don't you?"

"Someone has to," she snorted, tugging his shirt and pointing at the missing button – it had fallen off a few days ago. "You'd never survive without me."

"I'd be fine," he assured her indignantly. "I forage pretty well, and I can open a can now can't I?"

Alex laughed and bowed her head. "After years of careful training, I will give you the title of being the only person I know who can create an entire meal, with all the necessary food groups, completely out of tinned food products."

William lifted his chin proudly. "What can I say? I'm a genius."

Alex quirked an eyebrow at him and shuffled towards the edge to get up. "You're something, Dad," she muttered. "I wouldn't have said genius though."

She went to rise, laughing to herself but William touched her shoulder and gently forced her to sit. "Just hold up a sec," he said quietly, in what he hoped was a soothing voice. Alex frowned at him but sat down all the same. She looked concerned, curious, anxious and irritated in one foul swoop. "I just want to talk to you for a moment."

"Is something wrong?" she asked, her concerning filtering into her voice too. "Are you ok?"

"What? No, I'm fine," he laughed. "I wanted to talk about you."

"Me?" She sounded incredulous. "I'm fine."

"You've been quiet these past few weeks."

She shrugged and glanced at her poster of an Anaheim prima in the retire position and arms in fourth. "Have I? I didn't think you'd be complaining," she joked.

"Well, I am. You've been quiet and focused – too focused, even for you."

"I just have a lot on at school at the moment," she replied. "Director Franklin wants some of us sophomores and the seniors to be in the Christmas fundraiser and I've got some midterms too. I'm just trying to stay on top of it all."

"You need a healthy balance. You've not been out much lately," he pointed out, leading up to Blake slowly. She'd folded her arms as if she knew what was coming.

"I just told you – busy."

"And no Blake in a while either," William probed. She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "It is Saturday."

"How astute you are, father."

"Funny," he sighed. "Aren't you guys going to do something? I know there's no baseball on at the moment, but he's welcome here."

"Is he?"

"Isn't he?" William asked with some confusion. "I thought you were talking again. Did you two have another fight?" William asked, scratching his head.

"Kind of...not really..." Alex sighed. "Why? What does it matter?"

"I just figured you guys might have made up by now."

"Well, we did," Alex scoffed, running her fingers through her fringe. "I just think it's better if we have a more professional relationship. There's been a lot of focus on us rather than on the dancing, and that's why we started working together in the first place." She finished her speech with a smile that neither she nor her father bought.

"Is that a bad thing?" William asked with a frown.

"Yes! Dance has to come first!" Alex cried indignantly. "Not Blake Collins. You know that," she added sulkily.

"Ok, ok," her father said, raising his hands and laughing nervously. "And what does Blake think about that?"

Alex eyed him. "You're starting to irritate me now with your questions."

Her father raised his eyebrows. Alex huffed.

"He agrees," she muttered bitterly.

"Bug..."

"Look – he's a Collins. And dance comes before everything else, and if I'm gonna be his partner, I have to start thinking the same way. According to his mother anyway," she added.

"Yeah, and look at what being a Collins has done to Blake – he's incredibly intense and if he's honest with himself, kind of miserable a lot of the time," reasoned William. "He's made sacrifices to be where he is – regardless of whether he loves dancing or not – and I will not see my daughter do the same thing, simply to satisfy Mrs. Collins. Whoever she is," he said with a frown.

"I'm not...it's not her...it's..." Alex sighed. "She's right – we got caught up in everything and our partnership became something it shouldn't have been. We should be more focused."

William's brow furrowed. "You're buying into that garbage?"

"You're supposed to support me!" Alex snapped.

"Yeah, and I'm also supposed to take care of you and to stop you from making stupid decisions based on the opinion of a woman whose known you five minutes as opposed to your father who's known you all your life!" Alex bowed her head – William hardly ever raised his voice to her, and his words were always disarming when he shouted.

"I take it we're talking about the fact that you and Blake might have felt a little more for each other than friendship, and his mother was less than enthused about that?" said William inquisitively, still fuming.

Alex paused, as if weighing up whether to say anything or not. "Something like that."

"So I'll ask you again – how does Blake feel about this 'working relationship'? Is he happy about giving up the things he wants for dance just because his mother says so?"

"He's not happy about it! Fine! Ok - it's not him - it's me!" She threw herself back into her bed with another heavy sigh. "We made up, and he wants things to go back to the way they were, and I...I don't know what I'm supposed to do! This is stupid - all this drama...we were just supposed to be partners!"

"Yeah, Bug, you keep saying that," William said softly, running his hand over his face. "But I think you've gone beyond that and you know that."

Alex closed her eyes.

"Am I right?" William asked carefully. "Do you like him?" His daughter didn't move until a few moments later when she took a deep breath.

"Of course not," she said curtly. "He's Blake Collins. I'm Alexandra Hale. Everybody knows we fight like cat and dog. It's never going to work out," she said matter of factly.

"That's not what I asked," William said screwing up his face. "Give me a straight answer Bug – and cut all this 'his Mom thinks that we should be professional' BS because it's irrelevant – do you or do you not...want to make out with Blake Collins?" He blinked, keeping his face very serious and looked at her intently as he waited for her answer.

Alex sat up on her elbows and stared at him. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm sorry," he smiled. "I was hoping to get a smile out of you." She didn't give him one but she didn't look as cross. "Bug," he continued carefully, "I know I don't always get it right and sometimes I'm a pretty lousy Dad." He raised a hand at her objections. "I know you'll never agree but I can't give you everything you need, or get you a new car, or even cook you a meal that you can eat without being concerned for your life." A smile tugged at the corner of his daughter's mouth which he counted as a small victory. "But I know I'd be a terrible parent if I didn't tell you that the most important things in life aren't the things you can get your hands on – it's about memories and people and feelings. And I don't want you to look back when you my age and feel nothing but regret because all you ever did was follow your feet instead of your heart."

Alex sat forward and kept her head bowed as she listened.

"Now, I can joke about it, I know, but if you genuinely like Blake and he likes you too...screw what everyone else says. Don't begrudge yourself a good friendship with someone who makes you happy. Your way isn't making you happy is it? So why don't you try your old dad's way? Besides, I miss the male company around here," he added wryly.

"It's not about that anymore," she whispered.

"You frightened?" he asked.

"No," she said indignantly, frowning at him. "Why would I be?"

Her father shrugged. "Sometimes caring for someone makes you vulnerable and that's a scary feeling."

"Well, there's no danger of that Dad, because it's not going to happen. If Blake really gave a damn about me, he would have done something about it sooner. Not to mention he's really treated me like crap over the last few weeks."

"Maybe he's frightened too."

Alex opened her mouth and stared at him. "I am not frightened," she said clearly. Sighing and rubbing her temples, she swung her legs off the edge of the bed. "I'm going to make a sandwich. You still want one?" she asked as she approached the door. William stared after his daughter and nodded.

"Just...promise me something, Bug," he said quietly. "Just...promise me that you're not cutting your nose off to spite your face. Because despite his mistakes, he's a good kid, and it might be his feelings too..."

"Ham salad?" Alex interrupted. William sighed, staring at her defiant face. She was afraid; for all her bravery and soldiering on, she was a little girl still. But she didn't want to talk about it anymore, and if he pushed it any further he risked causing a fight between them. He didn't want that.

"Yeah, sure," he said wearily, rising as well and following her out. "Ham salad."

XXXXX

She'd underestimated how much she'd been leaning on Blake.

Not just in terms of practicality (though walking everyday when she'd been getting lifts with him was starting to kill her – she'd be glad when she had enough saved for a new car) but Alex no longer had someone to joke with about the things she hadn't told anyone. She didn't talk to Jayne about baseball, and she couldn't talk to Kitty about dance. Blake had fallen comfortably in the middle, and truth be told, her dad was right. She had begrudged herself a good friend, and she was miserable.

The worst part was that even though the feelings had been there before, now she was determined not to feel anything for him but indifference, they seemed to have heightened. From the moment she walked into the studio, a dull ache nestled in her stomach and remained there until she was free again. Alex had hoped that with the lack of emotional involvement, her feelings for him might have vanished, but they seemed to be lingering stubbornly. Dancing made it worse of course; with the lifts and closeness and the feelings behind it, she was as in danger of falling in love with him by the end of it as he had been when they'd been spending time together. In rehearsal, they talked of course, but it was empty and phatic, with both of them encouraging or criticising the other only on their steps and nothing else.

If she thought it was any easier for her partner, she was wrong. He was glad she had finally agreed to be his partner again, but at what cost? The fighting had been unbearable but this was almost worse – being within reach of her, and feeling as if she was miles away from him. He couldn't talk to her as they once had. He couldn't ask if she was ok. He'd tried a few times only to be met with gentle reminders that it wasn't his place to ask anymore. Alex had turned up late to a rehearsal looking weary and tearful, but a glower from her stopped Blake's curious ache and made him ask her to hurry up.

It was a Tuesday, leading up to Christmas, and despite the school's heating system backing up and blowing out cold air all day, the pair were still in the studio – though Alex had donned a thick sweater and leg warmers. She leant forward on her front leg, bending her pointe shoes a little as she watched Blake doing a short routine; her hands behind her back, following his form avidly as he turned and fell and span. When he finally finished, she smiled weakly and tucked some loose strands behind her ears. He'd finished with his arms in fourth and promptly dropped them to his sides.

"It was good," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"Good?"

"It was fine."

"What? Good, fine..." probed Blake. "Be a little clearer."

"Good, but not great," she said with a shrug. "I don't know how I can be any clearer Blake."

He sighed "What am I doing wrong then, if it's not great? Surely you must have some criticism to back up your point," he said with a smirk.

"Get back into fourth," she commanded waving her hands. He stood for a moment indignantly before begrudgingly lifting his arms into fourth position but keeping his legs in first.

"Yup, there it is. You do it sometimes," she said with a frown, looking at his fingers.

Blake dropped his arms again. "What?" he urged. "If you're going to pass judgment on me, just get on with it."

Alex smirked. "You really don't take criticism well sometimes."

He stared at her with such abhor she thought he might like to hit her.

"Get back into fourth!" she said. He did so, clenching his jaw. Alex stepped forward into the space in front of him and began playing with his fingers. "I guess it's because you're a guy, but the fingers are an extension of your arm so they need to be a clear line – come on, work with me," she said trying to bend his fingers.

"I know that," he said through his teeth, staring hard at her face as she moved him like some kind of puppet. He had dropped his arms down. "I didn't just start dancing you know."

She yanked his arms back up. "Well then, why are your hands so stiff?" she asked.

"I don't know," retorted Blake, with a snide tone. "Probably for the same reason you keep sickling," he muttered to himself, but her eyes snapped to his in a cool stare.

"I do not sickle."

"And I don't have a problem with my extension," he countered.

"At the moment you do," she murmured, close to his face. They stood for a moment, stubborn and unmoving, glowering at each other before Blake rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Fine," he muttered again. "Although I think it might have something to do with the fact that it's freezing in here and my hands are seizing up."

"Excuses, excuses," Alex said quietly, with a faint smile. "Come on Blake, graceful fingers," she sighed, squaring up to him and adjusting his wrist so she was en pointe to reach his height. "You're either doing it to annoy me or you're just being la-"

She didn't finish her sentence because Blake had leaned forward from where he stood, and kissed her on the mouth, bringing his arm from the side and laying it on her waist. His initial thought had been to shut her up, but logic would have told him that there were other ways to stop someone from talking and kissing them was not usually the way to do it.

But she'd been so close, and in the December light coming in from the window, she'd looked so beautiful. It was the one time he had lost control, and he wasn't sorry at all, because Alex had kissed him back.

Her hands had fallen to his shoulders from where they had been positioning his hands and as he pulled his head back, she used them to push her own body away a little. Not far enough away though, he noted, feeling the warmth of her body against his.

"Sorry," Blake said, clearing his throat, his voice a little thick. "You were saying?"

"I...honestly don't remember," Alex stammered, looking anywhere but his face and letting go of his shoulders like they were hot. He unwrapped his arm from her waist and placed it on his hips. They were completely apart now, but still in each other's space. Alex's cheeks had flushed deeply and she raised a hand to her brow.

"You...were calling me lazy?" he offered in low voice.

"Oh, yes," she said quietly. "Lazy."

Blake would have smirked at her loss for words had he not been stunned himself at what he had done.

"I need a drink," she said suddenly, but not moving. Blake stared at her with a frown; he couldn't tell whether she was unhappy or not, but she certainly looked embarrassed with her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes wouldn't focus on one point for long.

She suddenly turned, seemingly unsure as to which way to go, but decided to walk straight past him to the door. Blake, unable to stop himself, grabbed her arm - not tightly - but enough to halt her in her tracks.

"Just...wait a second," he said softly.

"Ok," she replied slowly, and he stole a look at her. She seemed to be smiling and frowning at the same time; a great array of contrasting emotions clearly visible on her face. He wondered if he looked pretty much the same.

"No," he said, letting go of her. "Sorry, you said you needed a drink."

"Were you going to say something?" she asked, a little eagerly he noticed.

"No."

"Oh, ok." Alex turned her back on him slowly, brushing her fringe from her face and headed for the door again. His heart was pounding inside his ribs so hard he was sure she could hear it, and it showed no sign of stopping.

"Actually," Blake called out, running his hands through his hair. When he did speak, it came out very quickly. "Can I take you out to dinner? Saturday...Or tonight maybe?" He swallowed hard.

"Dinner?" she asked, repeating the word slowly.

"Yeah..." He cringed at himself. "Dinner."

"Sure," Alex said, again too quickly. "Saturday?"

"Saturday," he breathed with a smile. "Ok."

Alex nodded. "I'm going to get that..."

"Drink, right," Blake said finishing her sentence and nodding. "Go."

He stared after her as she did, holding his breath until she was out the door and then exhaling deeply when he was sure she couldn't hear him.

He had kissed her.

And now they were going on a date.