Chapter 10

Her mind had constantly been in flux throughout the course of the day, one moment wishing she had kissed him and the next repulsed by the very thought. It was true she liked older men, she had a huge crush on Johnny Depp but with John her brain was so much more confused, conflicted. She felt like he was too beyond her, too much, too old. What was the saying, listen to your heart? She could definitely affirm she ignored the statement.

All of this imploded inside her mind like a torrent as she scrambled out of bed and made way toward the kitchen. Why was it so complicated? They were friends. They had started out as dance partners and ended up friends. She decided that was enough for her. Befriending John Disco was probably an impossible feat in itself. Clara carried it with her for the rest of the day.

'We're going shopping.'

'Okay, that was something I never thought would come out of your mouth.'

'Basically for your dress. You need four of them.'

'Four?!'

'Yes, four dances, four dresses, keep up.'

'Fine.'

'Let's go, then.'

Following him out of the building she noticed the chain once again round his neck. Along with the ring she probably guessed it was something personal and decided not to ask. The last time she had sensed the tiniest bit of hurt in his voice at her assumptions.

They got the bus into town, John graciously sharing an earphone with her.

'Is it all rock music on your phone?'

'Mostly. Why, do you have a problem with that?'

'No, but do you have any other genre?'

'Metal.'

'Really? I didn't peg you as a metal fan.'

'What did you 'peg' me as, then?'

'Something mysterious. You've been like that from the beginning.'

'Its just my characters.'

'Sometimes I wonder if you're able to differentiate between the character you play when you dance and yourself.'

He turned, staring quite plainly at her. He didn't reply but acted oblivious. She admired the way his impossibly untameable hair sparkled in the sunlight pouring directly through the filtered windows. She rested her legs on the opposite seat the same way he had and rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

Clara felt almost intimidated by the array of colours on display as she stepped into the shop. John

bounded straight in, rifling through the racks of clothes. She approached some, finally picking out a one strap blue dress that she showed immediately to John.

'Horrible.' He commented, returning back to his own choices.

'Since when did you know a lot about fashion?'

'I am very fashionable, actually.'

She snorted. 'What, plaid trousers and a frock coat? That's certainly questionable.'

'Other people seem to like it. I do.'

'Yes, well unless you're going to dance in a dress I'm picking my own.'

'Come on, Clara, just consider these ones.' He said, waving her over to his side.

She observed the dresses carefully, biting her lip. They were actually all really nice, exactly the kind of thing she liked and something she wouldn't mind dancing in. Damn him for being so smart ass.

'Yeah, alright then, you have good taste in dresses, at least. I still wouldn't want you compiling my wardrobe.'

He smiled smugly at her and Clara cursed for degrading herself. She hardly ever let her pride be diminished or overruled. It just didn't happen. And yet here he was, the counterweight of herself, so different.

'Go try them on.' He suggested, offering the dresses to her. She realised his mood had turned more serious as he gave a much more sincere smile to her, which made her do it.

'Are they all in my size?'

'I don't know, I chose a random size. Big enough to fit your manly thighs.'

She whacked him on the arm, John laughing at her attack.

'Alright, alright. A 10.'

'Thank you.' She turned on her heel, walking toward the dressing room.

'Come out and show me.' He called, as she began to take off her clothes. She liked wearing them a lot but not showy dresses. They were uncomfortable for her and only for night out occasions. As she slipped it on she instantly wished she was back in her leotard. It felt too open, to free. With her leotard every move felt ruled and under her control. Clara opened the door to see John sitting there expectantly and his eyes widen as she leaned sheepishly against the doorjamb.

'You look beautiful, Clara. That one's perfect for the salsa.'

'Really?' She whispered. She couldn't help biting her nails with nerve. Somehow standing there before him in a dress unsettled her.

'Yes. I wanna see more.'

She laughed. 'Okay, Mr. Flirt.'

'Clara-'

'Yes, I'm just joking, old man. It's good to get my own back.'

The next dress she tried on she liked even more and John once again approved.

'Is it just me, or are these dresses getting shorter?'

She stared down at the hem of the dress hanging high above her knees.

'No, you want more diversity in dress. Especially as each dance is diverse and different too. I'm thinking mambo on this one.'

'Oh, so you finally made a decision?'

'Yeah. The paso doble I think is just a little bit too aggressive for your own taste.'

'I wouldn't be so sure. You haven't even seen me in a full flaming temper tantrum.'

'Remind me to never be in the way of one of those.'

'Hmm.'

She turned, John noticing her bare, exposed skin.

'Its backless.'

'Yep.' She told him confidently, smiling to herself as his eyes fixed on her back.

'This one is way too tight, John!' She exclaimed, while he burst into laughter. The material clung to her thighs and her chest was tenaciously close-fitting. She tried adjusting it but it only made John laugh harder.

'Is this some kind of a joke?'

'I must admit, I did wonder how that would look on you.'

'Cheeky bastard. Do you want another whack?'

'I'm finding it really hard to take you seriously in that.'

'Maybe a punch where it hurts the most, then?'

'Clara, you look absolutely amazing.' He replied mockingly.

'I look like I've been in too many nightclubs. This is hardly a dance dress.'

'Yeah, I know. Go put your normal clothes back on.'

She thankfully took off the awful dress and sighed relievedly when she was back to normal. John stood up when she came back out, taking the pile from her.

'All of these were perfect. I think you can agree, can't you?'

'For an old man with no fashion sense I'd say so. Except the last one. That was going just a little too far, John.'

'My apologies.'

He strode toward the counter while she hung back. She couldn't help contemplate the unusual circumstances she had been in, almost like they were compromised. John had now seen the most part of her short legs and her cleavage, which she admit she hadn't been expecting. It was weird to think he had been the one to set it up. What really, had been his intention? Once he came up to her with a large shopping bag and smiled effervescently her brain became permanently confused.

Neither talked about it on the way home; John certainly didn't bring it up or act like anything had happened. All she knew was that he had in some ways took advantage of her as a woman and she wasn't okay with that. But it was hard. So very, very hard because one look would remind her of the friendship he beheld and his humour. The music playing in her ears now seemed extraordinarily accurate to how she was feeling. While they didn't say much she knew by the way his hand rested between his knee and hers that he valued every single moment of company she gave him.