My Year of Saying No - Maxine Morrey Page 0,17

later class which was more advanced. At this they showed surprise and humility, the woman’s impressively long false eyelashes fluttering madly as she waved away the suggestion.

‘Oh, please,’ Mario whispered under his breath so that it was audible only to me.

I looked round. He stepped closer.

‘They know exactly what they’re doing. I’ve been at classes like this before. People who know they’re pretty good still go so they can show off just how wonderful they are to others who are trying to learn. They don’t want to move on because, suddenly, they won’t be the best any more. Here they’re guaranteed to be noticed and watched. In the next class, they won’t be anything special.’

‘Maybe they really don’t think they’re good enough?’ I whispered back.

Mario raised one eyebrow, then cupped the side of my face. ‘Poor, innocent baby.’

I gave a stifled snort of laughter and batted his hand away.

Across the room, Beth flashed us a look and I stepped back behind Mario, trying to hide my sudden onset of giggles.

Jess caught my eye and grinned as she mouthed ‘What?’ to me.

I shook my head and did my best to focus my attention on what the instructor was now saying.

‘You are a very bad influence!’ I prodded Mario in the chest as the class ended with us all stood in a circle, giving ourselves a big round of applause. I clapped a couple of times before dropping my hands. Americans were very good at this sort of thing, but I always felt awkward and terribly British whenever I tried it.

‘I am always a very good influence!’ Mario protested, shocked, his dark eyes still twinkling with amusement.

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘Me too!’ Jess added, laughing as she put her arms into the coat Harry was holding out for her. ‘This is the girl that never got in trouble at school. And you got her glares from the teacher in her first lesson.’

‘It sounds like she has some catching up to do, then!’ Mario laughed.

‘No!’ I bumped him. ‘You have to behave. I want to learn.’

Mario gave a dramatic roll of his head. ‘Fiiiiiiine,’ he replied, before holding the door open so that we could all head down the stairs and out into the street.

‘Thank you. Although I am glad you got partnered with me.’

‘Me too.’ He winked and gave me a squeeze before glancing up at a man walking towards us. He had his head down against the biting wind that had been whipping around all day, a knitted hat pulled low to his brow and a heavy wool pea coat wrapped around him. As he got closer, he lifted his head and caught Mario’s eye. A bright smile suddenly creased the previously serious features.

‘How was it?’ he asked as he approached, his arm sliding around Mario’s shoulder.

‘Perfetto!’

‘You managed to find someone to partner you then?’

‘What, you mean as you refuse to?’ Mario flashed, teasingly.

‘Yep,’ the man replied with no hint of regret.

Mario gave an eye roll and began the introductions. Andy, it seemed, wasn’t a dancing man, preferring the quiet and books to the noisy atmosphere of salsa clubs, but was more than happy for his partner to follow his interest.

‘Doesn’t that make it difficult?’ I asked, chatting with Andy as we sat in the small bar we’d all drifted to after the lesson. Still buzzing, none of us, apart from perhaps Andy, were ready to go home yet, but even he seemed happy to sit and talk. ‘I mean, if you have such different interests?’

‘No, we make it work. We give and take. And sometimes it’s good to do things separately. You have things to share and talk about. I like to paint, but the thought of sitting still that long would, as I’m sure you’ve already gathered, send Mario into a frenzy. So, I go to painting class and now he comes here and learns to dance.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘It is,’ Andy agreed, smiling as he sipped his drink. ‘And what about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘No one to learn this with, or do you have someone like me, who is desperately avoiding it?’

‘The former. Well, there’s Humphrey, but I don’t think he’d be up for it either.’

‘And Humphrey is?’

‘My dog.’

Andy grinned. ‘What type?’

‘All sorts.’ I quickly brought up a photo of my fuzzy pup and showed him.

He took the phone. ‘Oh, he’s so gorgeous! And what a great name!’

‘See? That’s what I think,’ I said, accepting the phone back, ‘but my friend, Seb, gives me grief about it all the time.’

‘And