Page 13 of Take the Lead

W hen I arrive at the pub, it’s a typically busy Saturday night, but Lucy and Aiden have found a table next to a window and they’ve already got me a glass of wine.

‘You were so good out there this evening,’ Lucy gushes as soon as I sit down. ‘You looked like one of the professionals. I knew you could do it. And that score – wow! Congratulations, buddy.’

‘Yeah, it was really impressive,’ Aiden agrees.

‘Thanks!’ I grin as we clink glasses. ‘To be honest, I can barely even remember being told our score. It all flashes by so quickly.’

‘We can watch it back later on catch-up,’ Lucy says. ‘Have you spoken to your mum yet? Or anyone else? You must have loads of messages from people. Have you looked at Facebook?’

‘I haven’t even started reading the messages yet. That’s probably why we get Sundays off, just to reply to everyone.’

‘Merle must’ve been pleased,’ Aiden says.

‘I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to him afterwards, but yeah, I guess he was.’

Noticing the disappointment in my voice, Lucy moves the subject swiftly on. ‘I felt so sorry for Liam. What a horrible way to go out of the competition.’

‘He didn’t seem too upset. He’s already planning which show to try and get on next.’

‘That’s men for you,’ Lucy says, and Aiden gives her a playful nudge.

As we carry on chatting, I notice a few people looking over at our table.

I guess it’s inevitable I’ll be recognised now the first episode has aired.

One of my friends went on a dating show a while back and for a few weeks afterwards people kept going up to her, not quite able to work out where they knew her from.

Most of them thought they must have been at school together.

So I’ve been expecting a few looks here and there, maybe a few people wanting to come and say hello or take a selfie with me.

It’s just part of the process, although it’s a bit surprising it’s happening already.

The people in the pub presumably haven’t seen Fire on the Dance Floor yet, unless they were in the audience.

There definitely seems to be quite a bit of interest in our little group, though, and I notice a lot of the people are looking from their phones to me, presumably to check if I really am ‘the girl from the dance show’.

It’s a very strange feeling – a bit of a thrill while also vaguely unsettling.

Lucy has noticed the looks we’re getting too.

‘Your video must be up on YouTube already,’ she says, and we reach for our phones. I’ve never googled myself before – it’s quite exciting – but as the list of results appears on screen, the blood drains from my cheeks and I start feeling queasy.

A news story with the headline “ Kiz Kiz Bang Bang ” is trending, accompanied by a photo of me and Merle in the dressing room, clearly up to no good. There are related stories on other news sites titled “ Fire in the Dressing Room ” and “ It Started With a Kiz ”.

I click on one of the links. Close-ups of our faces leap off the page alongside more dressing room images. They’re blurry, but it’s pretty obvious what’s going on. I start reading.

“ Fire on the Dance Floor couple Merle Picard and Kate Wareing are sizzling off the dance floor as well as on it. Their chemistry was undeniable during their steamy kizomba on tonight’s opening show, leaving fans wondering if the pair have become more than just dance partners.

“ And it seems the passion we saw in their performance is mirrored off-stage. The couple, whose sultry dance bagged them a near-perfect score and secured them a place on next week’s show, made little effort to hide how they feel about each other as they got hot and steamy in the dressing room ahead of their performance.

They were spotted looking very close just moments before they walked onto the dance floor and … ”

‘No,’ I gulp. ‘No, no, no.’

I click on the next story and it’s more of the same. And the next. Those same photos are everywhere – Merle from behind, topless, me leaning back with my catsuit folded halfway down and my legs round his waist, his hands on my boobs, my face tipped back but clearly identifiable.

‘Jesus, Kate!’ Lucy exclaims. ‘Your mum’s going to see this.’

‘ Everyone ’s going to see this,’ I panic, dropping my phone on the table and taking a large gulp of my wine. ‘I don’t know how it could have happened. We would have noticed if someone was filming us. It’s impossible.’

But then I remember the door hadn’t been properly closed when Olivia came to tell us it was time for the show to begin. Someone must have stuck their head in before that and we were so busy we didn’t even notice.

‘I can’t believe this is happening.’ I drop my head into my hands. ‘I’ve got to speak to Merle. I don’t know what he’ll be thinking. We might get kicked off the show.’

‘You’re not going to get kicked off the show,’ Lucy soothes as I grab my phone again, scroll down to his number and hit dial. ‘It’s only a few photos.’

But Merle doesn’t answer.

‘Come on,’ I plead, feeling increasingly anxious, but after two more tries he still doesn’t pick up.

I switch to WhatsApp and notice that the number of messages waiting to be read has doubled, but none are from Merle.

‘ CALL ME! ’ I type, swigging more wine.

I flick back to the first news story and scroll down to the comments below it.

“ Lucky cow ”, “ He’s so fit ”, “ I’d definitely go there ”, people have written. The sentiment seems to be the same from most of the commenters.

Then … “ I feel sorry for his wife. ”

And the room screeches to a standstill. His wife? Merle, who I’ve just spent all week getting intimate with, has a wife ? I suddenly feel even queasier.

Seeing the rest of the colour drain from my face, Lucy takes my phone to see what I’m reading. ‘Oh boy. That complicates things.’

‘I didn’t know!’ I wail. ‘He never mentioned anything about a wife.’

I hadn’t even thought to check whether he was actually single. Why hadn’t I thought to ask him?

‘It might not be true,’ Lucy says, the voice of reason. ‘People write all sorts of things in these comments. It might just be someone trying to stir up trouble.’

I hope to God she’s right. The photos are bad enough, without this on top. But tears pool in the corners of my eyes as a growing sense of dread creeps over me.

‘Hey!’ Aiden shouts at a neighbouring table, making me jump. One of the girls is filming us on her phone, but she puts it away when Aiden stands up as if he’s going to go over and confront her.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Lucy mutters, taking in the distraught look on my face.

We don’t even finish our drinks before we head for the door.

As we weave between the tables, it feels like every single person we pass is undressing me with their eyes. It’s all I can do not to break into a sprint.

The chatter behind us seems to double in volume when we reach the door and I’m certain it’s me they’re talking about. I don’t think I’m ever going to live this down.

Aiden orders us an Uber and when it drops us off at the flat he doesn’t come in.

He knows I need Lucy to myself for the rest of the evening.

She pours me a large glass of wine as I stare at the news stories on my phone and freak out about all the people who will have seen the photos.

Never even mind all the total strangers, what about my friends and family?

What about the other contestants? What are they all going to think?

The WhatsApp messages are really mounting up, but I can’t face looking at them. I’ve never been more humiliated in my life. Lucy tries to convince me it will all blow over and that everyone will have forgotten about it before the week is out, but I can’t be placated. I’m too busy going to pieces.

‘Why hasn’t Merle called me back?’ I sob.

Lucy tops up my wine and tries to calm me down. ‘He’s probably just busy and hasn’t seen your message yet. I’m sure he’ll contact you soon.’

Beth and Tammy both ring me, but I let the calls go to voicemail. I don’t want to talk to them. I don’t want to talk to anyone but Merle.

‘You’ll get through this,’ Lucy assures me. ‘It’ll simmer down and you’ll put it all behind you. We’ll probably even end up laughing about it one day.’

But I can’t imagine that day right now. I just want to curl up and hide forever.