THE SECRETS WE KEEP.

- REMEMBER THE WORDS YOU TOLD ME.

hey everyone, this is finally the chapter ive been working on! i'm sorry if it is too long, i didn't even realise until i was reading over it last night how much there was! but i hope you enjoy it, this is the start of week 6 now and i have some things planned for the next couple chapters and going into week 7 that should hopefully change things up a bit! let me know if there is anything i can do to make my writing more interesting for you, the next one will come soon :)
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JOES POV:
My strangely cheerful Uber-driver replied in a quite friendly manner as she dropped me off on the curb of the training building. In a usual circumstance being stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic at 8am on a crappy Monday morning would turn your driver into a Grinch on Christmas Day. Yet, the awful weather and the bad delay seemed to not faze her at all, and she was her usual happy self. Stepping out of the car I was greeted by the harsh October weather, with the chilly breeze blowing through me and the thrashing raindrops onto my head falling a thousand per minute. Before I could even enter practise, the usual check for paparazzi had to carried out. No matter what day it was, it was a guarantee that somebody would be waiting around a street corner with their camera, ready to take any photo of anybody they could just for a front page scoop. Now it may seem that there was quite a few hiding around as the weeks went on and more couples stopped entering the huge, run-down building to train. To hide myself from the glaring eyes, I pulled my hood up over my head and took a swift path through the big double doors.

The training rooms always felt like a safe haven for me, from just the fact that not one paparazzi camera could even click past those doors. All day it was just you and your dance partner, something I was growing to enjoy even more. Every week I would walk in around the same time, most likely an hour after Diannes arrival. Now on a Monday morning walking in here it was a regular sighting to see Dianne doing her leg workout on the floor, one that made your legs ache just watching her. To not disturb her, I tried my hardest to be quiet while walking towards her, with the intention of giving her a gentle forehead kiss of good morning. But, before my lips could touch her skin, it seemed she had spotted me in the reflection and jumped up to wrap her arms around my neck tightly. Her whole body collapsed against mine, and with luck, my arm flung out to support her waist almost instinctively.

"So Lady Di.. what will you be killing me with this week?" My sarcastic remark earned a giggle from the little redhead cuddled in my arms, her hands now resting on my elbows with her mesmerising pools of hazel boring back into mine. "This week we've been given a Foxtrot to Youngblood!" Her obvious excitement confused me, but of course there was more to come. "And.. since it Halloween week.. you will be a sexy vampire who my human character will fall in love with.." I let out a deep exhale while my still excitable dance partner rushed over to get the music prepared. But, when she turned back to me, that once friendly relationship we had shared previously would fizzle out for teacher mode Dianne to make her appearance. Especially on a Monday morning, this demeanour can be terrifying. Yet you have to know that dance makes her a better person, it is her happiness. It helps to distract her, when in that training room nothing outside of it matters. And, with the problems going on with her breakup and the press torturing her every word, I knew I would have to take every shout and critic that came my way.

"5..6..7..8" The loud counting of the final few beats came from Dianne over the singing voices, as we foxtrotted across the hardwood floor to the unfurnished waltzer in our final hold. To add to the ever-growing stress, the waltzer production had provided would be a huge part of our routine, since we start and finish on it. Just having it sat there, in the corner of the stage, was like another pair of glaring eyes on you. My inner voice was screaming aloud at my accomplishments, of not only leading Dianne like a real professional, but having the confidence in myself and my movements.

One thing I had learnt about Dianne Buswell's teaching techniques was that she loved the idea of repetition. In preparation for our jive, we would do the dance in full with no breaks three times, then take a five minute sit down, before it was straight back on the dance floor for another go. No matter how much your legs begin to ache, or your head starts to hurt, that dance is drilled into your head as if it could be done in your sleep. Last week I was that guy who ran from the stage, ashamed and in a panic. But now there was this growing feeling of self pride in my ability to, on day one, be able to remember every single step from start to finish. But throughout practise, the nag in my brain continued to crawl its way back to the front for my attention.. that nag reminding of Dianne's stress levels. As my usual shitty first attempt gets her in an agitated state, I had tried my hardest to take on even critic to get it right for her, probably placing myself under even more pressure than this was worth. Even if I go home upset from this bad day there will be a content in me knowing that it was all for her happiness.