"I can't believe they're already asleep," Cerys says to me, glancing at Inez and Edie.

Another one of our sleepover traditions is attempt to stay up until five thirty-seven exactly and take a photo together of the 'survivors'. Usually, it's only Cerys who manages it, but I've managed to stay up too. We have about two hours to go right now.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," she says. "It's about Josh so you can definitely tell me to go to hell or whatever if it's too personal."

"What is it?" I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms.

"You know when you said that Josh left with Laura?" Her tone is too delicate. "Do you think that maybe he was, I don't know, moving on?"

Moving on?

Moving on.

Fucking moving on.

Moving on from me.

Moving on from us.

Josh and Laura going to the arcade. Him winning her a teddy. Them going to the cinema and not watching any of the film because they're busy snogging. Laura and Josh lying on his bed, on his navy duvet with his walls covered in posters and Polaroids. Josh telling Laura he loves her. Laura telling Josh she loves him.

"He wasn't," I whisper. "Cerys..."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." She moves over to me, wrapping her arms around me. "Josh fucking loved you, you do know that? Like so much."

A few tears escape from my eyes, trickling down my cheeks. "So why was it so goddamn easy for him to just walk away from me?"

And suddenly, I'm properly crying as Cerys holds me.

"Don't tell the others, but that wasn't the last time I was alone with Josh," I tell her, wiping my tears away with the back of my hands.

Josh and I avoided each other like the plague for a while after the breakup. Being lumped together in one of the form time activity group's was incredibly awkward and so was even just making conversation that ventured beyond observations about the weather.

And I never told anyone about the last time I talked to Josh in person without anyone else around because it felt too personal. Like something I just wasn't supposed to share. It wasn't too long ago, just February half term. My last dance show before I stopped because GCSEs were drawing closer and closer and closer. We did two performances of that show and everyone I wanted to come came to the first one. The second one fell on the night of some Alfie thing, so not even Mom or Dave showed up like one of them usually did to show support.

So I was more than a little surprised when Josh showed up.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," I said, clutching the strap of my bag. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Jen told me this was your last show and, I don't know, I kind of wanted to come. I should've just left, I'm sorry. This is awkward."

"You saying this is awkward kind of makes it more awkward," I pointed out. "And it's fine. Really. You got to see me mess up."

It was a little trip, nothing too major looking back on it. But onstage, it felt like the end of the bloody world. My cheeks went red and I thanked the God I didn't believe in that the intermission had arrived.

His eyes met mine. "I thought you were great."

"You always thought I was great." The words it was kind of your job as my boyfriend almost slipped out.

He always thought I was great. He'd always sneak backstage too and kiss me before the show for good luck. His eyes would always be shining as he watched me twirl around. He always thought my ballet was sick, he loved the shoes and the outfits and the hair.

"I'm going to quit," I blurted out.

"What? Why?"

I shrugged. "I just don't love it anymore."

When I was nine, it was my biggest dream to become a ballet dancer. To do what I loved every day for the rest of my life. But the older I got, the harder it got. More hours, more shows, more stress. And as if I'd ever tell him that it was his breakup that made me begin to despise dance.

"Wanna dance right now?" he asked. "That sounded much cooler in my head. I'll be going now, I think I've made enough of an idiot of myself tonight."

"What about my dance?" I asked.

I lead him to the stage and dropped by bag on the steps as he walked up to follow me. Stupid, that's what Inez would tell me. Never get close to your ex is one of her many rules of life. Especially when lingering feelings are involved. But as if I cared.

Josh and I had danced before, the very first time being at the Year Seven Christmas disco. We'd gotten better overtime, especially while we were going out. We'd practiced in my living room when Strictly was airing. Usually very messy, ending up in a laughing heap on the floor. That's exactly what happened. Josh tripped, landing us both on the dark stage as we laughed uncontrollably about how nothing had changed really. He was still a horrible dancer dragging us both onto the floor and stepping on my toes.

And then I realised.

His face was too close to my face. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to kiss my ex-boyfriend who I should not have even been talking to. What was I fucking doing, talking to Josh again?

"I need to go," I said quickly, pushing him off me and grabbing my bag and running out.

Cerys doesn't say anything. She doesn't tell me how I can be excused for doing that, how Josh didn't deserve me. She doesn't give me any crappy advice that you can get on a card from Clinton's. All she does is hold me as I cry for Josh.

Except this time I'm crying about the fact that he was ready to let us go while I just can't.

✨ dancing in the dark ✨