Friends with Benefits | Joanne

17- Someday We'll Find It

"Joe, what are you doing?"

It had become Dianne's catchphrase for the week.

"Go over into that corner and think about what you did wrong. Go on, I'm serious."

Joe skulked into the corner, his head in his hands. The waltz was not the easiest dance he had ever done, and every new step felt like a massive challenge.

"What's up with you today?"

Joe ran a hand through his hair. "I'm trying, Di. I'm really trying. I'm just tired. And Zoe's going to watch this later and my mum and my nan will be in the audience this weekend and... it's all just a bit much."

Dianne patted his shoulder. "Do you want a break? I think I can manage to be nice to you for ten minutes."

Joe smiled. "Thanks. Yeah, maybe a break will be good. Do you want to go and get a coffee or a water or anything?"

"Actually, yeah. I could do with a coffee. I'm still knackered after the weekend."

Joe held the door open as they left the studio. "Oh, yeah. How was Saturday?"

"Good. I haven't had a proper night out like that in ages. Sunday was painful, though. I keep reminding myself that I'm nearly 30 and that the hangovers are worse but drunk me doesn't listen."

Joe laughed. "I've met drunk Dianne a couple of times. No, she doesn't listen. She waits until you're asleep and puts a pair of fake tits on you and draws on your face."

"I mean, I don't make a habit of it. I saved all that for you."

"Thanks." Joe bumped his hip against Dianne as they walked.

They ambled a few more steps before Joe spoke again. "So... did you meet anyone?"

Dianne fiddled with the ends of her hair, smiling but deliberately not looking at Joe.

"You so did!" Joe gasped. "OK, tell me everything! Is he a good dancer? Did you get to test your theory about good rhythm?"

"Joe, stop it." Dianne was still smiling but pushed him away. "He was nice. Well, nice enough for the evening but not nice enough for breakfast if you catch my drift."

"Oh, so I shouldn't be buying a hat?"

"Hat?" Dianne looked at Joe, completely confused.

"For your wedding. Never mind. Anyway, tell me what happened."

Dianne sighed. "There's not much to say. He was nice enough. Good looking. He came home with me. He came. He left."

Joe winced. "Harsh, much?"

Dianne shrugged. "I can't say it was the worst twenty minutes of my life, but it wasn't the best."

Joe couldn't help but let out a stunned laugh. "I hope you didn't tell him that. What a review! I'm glad there's not some kind of booty call, one-night stand app where you can rate your dates. Actually, there probably is..."

///

We got back into the studio just in time for Zoe to arrive. We ran the routine a couple of times as she sat on the floor, in front of the mirrors. Through the whole routine, I could feel her eyes on me. I knew she was watching both of us, and probably judging how I moved compared to her brother, but it put me on edge.

I was used to being stared at. Part of it was my own fault- the red hair attracts a fair bit of attention- but I was used to people, girls, looking me over and judging me. When I danced in competitions, I learned to ignore the burning stares of the other contestants. They did it to put you off, to spook you or intimidate you. I tried not to let them get in my head, and I succeeded because I had to keep my mind on the prize. Outside of the ballroom, the stares of other girls would be because they were jealous, or because they thought I was a threat. Those stares were usually because the man they were with was also watching me, watching my butt or my boobs as I moved to the music in a club or a bar.