Chapter 10 – Better when I’m dancing

“I’ve decided to enrol permanently. As soon as you get used to the malodorous smell and the agonising pain, it’s actually not that bad.” “Malodorous smell?” she enquired with her brows raised sceptically. Today she had embraced a theme of glitter. From tiny gems around her eyelids to the turquoise sequin dress, she was practically sparkling from head to toe. As far as I could tell, she had even put some glitter in her hair that was falling in soft dark brown waves down her back and framing her heart-shaped face. “Yes. Have you ever experienced what it smells like when the body odours and perfumes of about 20 people squeezed into a tiny room without any windows mingle? It’s not pleasant,” I pressed on. “Agonising pain?” she asked then. “Well, in films they always make it seem like men can’t dance and always step on their partner’s toes. Except for Dirty Dancing, of course. I, however, can definitely not confirm that. I’m not saying I can dance. But I will say all the ladies I was forced to lead through the evening were definitely worse than I was. I had to bandage my feet after the session. Shoes with high heels should be prohibited for beginners. No wonder so few men are always at these dance lessons.” I shook my head and huffed out a small laugh. “Well, why did you think I sent you there? I knew they were in need of some male participants. And maybe a little, because I thought it would help with the stick you’ve got up your ass.” She winked. “The stick up… are you serious? Unbelievable.” I shook my head again. This time in disbelief. Silence fell between us. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was more of a pause to gather thoughts. I didn’t know if she enjoyed talking to me as much as I enjoyed talking to her. Even if it was from a distance since she had yet to invite me into the flat. I didn’t know if we would have had these little chats full of fun and sarcasm if she hadn’t been forced to spend her summer sheltered like this, but I cherished these moments. The teasing and taunting little bits that always made up for the entire week, no matter how shitty it was. I tipped my head back and cracked a small grin, “You know I’ve been meaning to ask something. I have been really curious about this. Lying awake at night trying to figure it out.” She leaned a little forward, her brows pinched. „What?“

“Where are your horns?” Her brows practically flew up. “My horns?”

“Yeah,” I smirked. “I’ve always imagined the Devil to have some huge horns on his head.”

If I didn’t know better, I thought I had actually left her speechless this time. She made a face, and it appeared as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t come up with a clever reply. So I added, “I mean you keep sending me to do all these activities that either end with me embarrassing myself or having a near-death experience. My adrenaline levels are through the roof and not coming down, Satan.” My lips twitched into a small grin as soon as I had said it. She shook her head, visibly racking her brain for some kind of smart retort but in the end, she only grumbled, “Good to know. But if I’m Satan, you know what that makes you.”

“What?” I asked, doubting she’d actually found some quick-witted comment to throw back at me. “One of my satanic minions.”