Love, Lance - 2. Bad Romance

"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh! Caught in a bad romance!" Lance and Janey sang together at the top of their lungs. "Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh! Caught in a bad romance!"

It was a Thursday, so the two of them went to Janey's house once the school day finished. Ballet at seven, so Lance would spend the afternoon and evening with his best friend, have dinner and they'd go to their dance class together. They had homework, but neither one was interested in doing it yet. Ballet night was an excuse to do makeup, hair and bring the house down with their favourite tunes. Lance ran the straightening iron through Janey's curly auburn locks and gyrated his hips to the rhythm of the music. He didn't even notice that he did that most of the time. He just did. His body lived for music. It lived to dance. It was all purely instinct at this point. No matter where he was or whether the music was pumping through his ears or only his head, he danced. Janey thought it was terrific. Most people thought it was strange.

"Rah rah ah-ah-ah! Ro mah ro-mah-mah Gaga oh-la-la! Want your bad romance!" The two of them shouted together as Lance continued to straighten his friend's thick, pretty hair while she played the role of DJ. Oh, it's gorgeous! I wish I had her hair. The things I could do with it!

"Hey baby boy," Janey caught his attention and lowered the volume of the music for a brief period. "You ready to lose your weave?"

"Oooh, you got some of that goss?" Lance asked, still repeatedly moving to the music while carefully ironing Janey's wavy, curly red hair. Gaga was his favourite right now. "C'mon then, you tart! Spill!"

"So, you know Bobby? From ballet?" Janey asked him excitedly.

"Honey please!" Lance gave her a brazen grin in the reflection of the mirror. "Everyone knows Bobby." Bobby Petrović was a beautiful fifteen-year-old guy. A proficient ballet dancer with a delicious-looking body, precious brown eyes and a wide smile that melted Lance's heart.

"Well, guess who's single!" Janey announced in a sing-song voice and Lance felt flutters inside. "Apparently he just broke up with his boyfriend! Facebook official!"

"Janey if you're lying to me I swear I will burn your ears!" Lance leaned over her shoulder to see for himself, and yes. Bobby Petrović is now single. "Aww, how sad for him! I better send him my sympathies!"

"And some nudes," Janey teased, and Lance giggled.

"I couldn't!" He blushed underneath his full face foundation. "He's masc for masc. A little femboy like me isn't even a blip on his radar!"

"You don't know that," Janey reminded him, looking at him through their reflections in the mirror. "Just because he was hooking up with Damien Hall? Pshh. That doesn't mean he doesn't want a taste of the Lovecraft! So tonight, we're gonna go and talk to Bobby and let him know just how available you are!

"And you'd have me sound like some desperate hoe, right? I think not!" Lance talked himself out of it. Bobby's too high up on the food chain for someone like me. He was straight-acting. Femboys just... aren't desirable in the community. Everyone likes manly guys. Masc for masc. No fems. A relationship or even a fling with Bobby was fun to think about, but the key to achieving dreams is to make them realistic. Bobby likes sports and all that shit. I'd bet ten quid he wouldn't know Cher from Madonna.

"C'mon Lance! You have to start dating eventually," Janey reached back over her head, and her hand clumsily gave him a comforting pat right on the right nipple. "Imagine being Bobby's next boyfriend instead of watching some other cheating knobhead breaking his heart. You'd be perfect!"

"It's not that easy!" Lance told her. He was getting anxious already. "Janey, honey, you're making me shake! Girl, you want your weave nice and straight or burned to a bloody crisp?"

"I'll be your wing woman! I mean it, Lance. All you do is pine and moan for a boyfriend, but you have a chance here! You're taking it!" Janey refused to drop the subject. He wished she'd leave it alone. Although Lance was a charismatic and experienced performer, great with people and incredibly talented at dancing, anything romance related was strictly off the books. He'd never dated. He'd never even kissed anyone. It was too scary. Being vulnerable just... it couldn't happen. Every time Lance dared to venture into society with the look he liked on himself, he was in danger. People beat femboys up. People beat him up. I don't want to take that chance. I've got too much to lose. Heartbreak is the last thing I need.

"Maybe next week," Lance shrugged, looking at himself in the mirror.

He didn't intend to act on his feelings, of course. He locked eyes with himself. They glittered like emerald cut amythests in the light. These contact lenses are fantastic. I'm never going anywhere without them again! Look at you, Lance. Yeah, you're fierce! But... you're wonky. You're a freak. A chimaera. An anomaly. People can love you, but people will never be in love with you. Especially someone like Bobby Petrović. You don't need to look like more of a fool, especially in a place as contentious as ballet class. Stay strong, baby! We're not gonna have a good time for the next few years, but you and I, we have plans. Big plans! High School might not be our time to shine, but when we're famous, honey, we're going all the way! That's when it's our turn to get the Bobbys. That's our reward for hanging in there!

"I want your love and I want your revenge, you and me could write a bad romance," he sang loudly so that those thoughts would leave him alone. It didn't take long for Janey to join in while he brushed and straightened her hair. She was crushing on David Lau, another boy in their ballet class. David was certainly a cutie pie, but he was a straight boy, unfortunately - well, unfortunate for Lance, but not her. Janey was so smitten! Maybe Lance couldn't sink his claws into David, but Janey was going to have a go at it, and he was going to help her look her best. "I want your love and your lover's revenge, you and me could write a bad romance!" Janey sang even louder than him, and the two laughed and moved their bodies together. They were two peas in a pod. Best friends for a very long time.

Alison Stefanov, Janey's mother, drove the two to their class at seven. Lance liked Alison. She had a wicked sense of humour that her daughter inherited, but her support of Lance as a gay ally bordered on creepy. She fancied herself a "fag hag" but Lance would rather she'd limit herself to a "queer peer" at most. Before they left, she and the two athletes enjoyed a light caesar salad for their dinner. Dieting was something Lance needed to do more of, but Sue tended to stuff all the food she cooked with as much love as she could. "Love" loosely translated to high amounts of sugar, salt and fat. Lance loved his mother to pieces and would never hurt her feelings, but she was a big woman with a big appetite and a big addiction to all the unhealthy food. "Love." No, honey, more like diabetes. We'll be changing our family name to Diabetescraft. Making his own meals wasn't uncommon, but it did alienate his family somewhat. He didn't understand why it was a big deal. Lance chomped on his greens and snacked on treats sparingly - he was aspiring to be a professional dancer. He couldn't exactly do that on a diet of deep fried fish and chips, could he?

Dance Corner. Ahh, how Lance loved it there. Very high standards and very selective of its students. Dancers had to be pretty advanced to impress Camilla, the old, fire-breathing tart who ran the joint. Camilla was a mess. Her salt and pepper roots underneath her faded red dye job were almost two inches long, and her eyebrow game was so weak. It was a measure of comfort to both Lance and Janey, who took immense pride in their appearance. If Camilla could rise to a prestigious position being an ugly, cantankerous slag, then they could do the same. Andrea was the primary ballet tutor, though. She wasn't easily dazzled, but she was far easier on the eyes and generally more supportive than Bitch Features.

"David!" Lance cooed in the guys' locker room. Lance wasn't entirely sure he was a boy. He certainly wasn't a girl, but the word "boy" fit with him like two pieces of a jigsaw with the right edges, but pictures didn't quite match. It was something that sometimes nagged at the back of his mind. David Lau, tall and broad-shouldered with a shiny black faux-hawk often fashioned into a spiky bun, looked awkwardly over at him. Yeah. David was awkward around Lance, but it was no big deal. All the boys were. Gay or straight.

"What's going on?" He replied politely. Uncomfortably.

"Doesn't Janey look super gorgeous today?" Lance asked him, wondering if he'd be less skittish if he made it immediately clear he wasn't about to molest the Chinese boy.

He was right. David immediately relaxed. This could be helpful in the long run, Lance thought. If Janey and David get together, then that's another area in my life where I don't have to be scared. Being in the men's locker room for ballet was scary. Even though several of the males were gay in this room, that did not mean they weren't homophobic, and Lance quite often received verbal assaults on his choice of self-representation. It was not a safe place, but having an ally, even just one, would make that so much easier. If David likes Janey, I can lead the horse to the water. Whether the horse drinks or not is out of my hands. Lawd that sounded filthy.

"Yeah, she's a bit ace," David replied, slipping a tight-fitting tank top over his visible abs and toned pecs. He was sixteen - two years older than Lance. Janey girl, you are missing out right now.

"She's also a bit single," Lance's purple eyes scanned David's body language. Straight boys are super blasé - an act, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't find information in the way the pretty boy acted.

"Oh, yeah?" David asked, and he gave the briefest of smiles, packing his bag back into the locker he always used.

"Just letting you know, honey!" Lance winked at him, and to his surprise, David did not freak out. Call him names. Look away.

"Are you saying she's like, liking me? Like, you know?" David's inarticulation was cute, and Lance smiled with his pink lips.

He did not put his full face on today - that included his purple lip gloss. He only did his hair, contact lenses and a subtle level of foundation. A full face was fun for school or at home - places where he was safe. Coming to a place like this, though, Lance preferred to err on the side of security - toning it down, but never going without, though. Never. Having no makeup felt like having no clothes on. Like he wasn't himself. That would not do. Be Lance, no matter the cost.

"She might be! But that depends on a little something," Lance winked at David, who seemed to panic on the spot. "No, you berk! I want you to scout Bobby for me. If he could use someone to dry his tears or a friend or... you know. Something Lovecraft could do."

"Oh, right," David settled down once more. Straight boys, I tell you! So terrified of the dreaded homosexuality. Scared of their own shadow lest it tries to gay them up.

"Seriously," Lance put on his shirt - a purple, sequin-covered tanktop - and clasped his hands together. "Janey is so up for it! All you have to do is ask her out. I promise! But would you mind doing me that solid?"

"That's a bit weird for me," David had a sweet, tenor voice. The two had similar hobbies and interests, so they ran into each other quite often. There was a rivalry, of course. The competition between them wasn't necessarily unfriendly, but it was fierce. Where David was the more athletic and better singer of the two, Lance excelled in general charisma and acting. However, where dancing was concerned, neither boy had ever been able to show up the other. They won tit for tat. Lance by a tiny margin, then David.

"C'mon! It's not fair that I set you up with my BFF and you don't wanna return the favour!" Lance complained but retained his smile. He was used to smiling all the time. "It's not weird if you ask him how he's doing after the breakup!"

"We don't talk about that stuff," David bit his lip. "The gay stuff, I mean."

"Rrrrgh," Lance grimaced, raking his purple nails through his purple hair. "Don't worry about it, then. Just treat Janey nice, alright? Or you'll be answering to me."

"Yeah?" David chuckled. "What will you do about it?"

"Well, out of Janey and I, I'm the one who doesn't kiss nice," Lance winked, knowing that David was only playing around.

"You're a weirdo," David slapped Lance on the shoulder on his way past. "I'll talk to Bobby after class, alright? I'll tell him that you don't kiss nice."

"That's not what I said!" Lance shouted after him, blushing red underneath his foundation. Oh dear. I may have fucked up here. Oh well. The show must go on.

There were fourteen of them in this class. Five boys and nine girls. Aside from Lance, David and Bobby, there were two other gay boys - Darren and Seamus. Lance was pretty sure those two were more than just friends, but neither one of them liked Lance much. In Darren's words, Lance was "making a mockery of the gay community" by "pandering to stereotypes." Seamus was nicer when Darren wasn't around, but if he was, he was always so fast to leap to Darren's side. Bobby often hung out with them. The masc gays. The boy who currently held Lance's heart captive. Oh, gosh. Bobby and Seamus both liked to be topless during the class, and it was almost too much eye candy to bear. Lance preferred to wear a shirt - while he was incredibly fit, toned and slender even at the age of fourteen, he did not like to expose his body. It wasn't necessarily shyness, but the chavs in the neighbourhood did want to target Lance when an opportunity arose, and he was often hiding welts and bruises from attacks. He was too self-conscious to go topless the way he'd like to. The way the other boys did. If Garth found out, he would not rest until he settled the score with whoever hurt his son.

As they were in every other aspect of their lives, Lance and Janey were inseparable. They stretched together, trained together and danced together. Ballroom, contemporary, tap and, of course, ballet. The drills were reasonably intense today. Lance had incredible stamina, though. More than David. But he wasn't quite as precise as David was. Where David could complete a sequence correctly, Lance might have needed to try it three, four or five times more before he got it right. That was incredibly annoying to him, and he found himself getting right bloody angry.

"Don't," Janey was always there. Perceptive and supportive. Knowing what he was feeling. "You're just having an off day, that's all."

"I'm dancing like shit!" Lance grumbled and folded his arms. "Worse, Bobby can see everything I screw up. I don't feel like I can do anything right!"

"Keep the pity party up, Lance!" Janey tutted to him with a wry smile. "I'm sure Bobby finds it hot."

"You're a proper slag!" Lance hissed at her, but he smiled. She was right. "I mean, you're right, but you're still a slag."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on! Back in the game, or I'll take your place as the queen," Janey teased him, pulling him by the hand.

"Like hell, you will!" Lance, after the brief break and self-deprecation, eagerly thrust himself back into the exercise. He performed slightly better this time around, but still not quite as well as David and Bobby, who did not even look in his direction. How do I even feel about that? I want him to notice me, but only when I'm looking great. Not when I'm dancing with the grace of a powerlifter with diarrhoea. It was a hell of a lesson! Everyone, Andrea included, was buggered by the end and trudged back to the locker rooms.

"Oh hey, Bobby!" David panted as he stripped off his shirt, everybody feeling the burn from the intense workout. Lance's ears pricked up as he wiped the sweat from his body and under his arms with his towel. "Lance wants to know if you're ready to date and stuff."

Oh my god, David. You absolute plonker. Are all straight men so tactless and fucking stupid? Lance didn't even look at either of them. He packed his clothes up, feeling like a total knob, and decided not to change until he got home. He didn't want to be around right now, and he waited for Sue to pick him up outside the building. It was freezing out, primarily due to how sweaty he was, but he couldn't face Bobby right now. See, Janey? This is why I don't try to date. It's stupid, and it never works.

"Lance, hey!" Andrea caught him before Sue showed up. "You took off quick! I have something you might be interested in."

"Ooh, are you giving me a medal?" Lance swallowed his insecurities and miseries to smile up at her.

"Not quite! At least, not quite yet," she smiled at him, still clad in her workout clothes. "No, I thought I'd hand this out to you!"

"What is it?" He asked, taking a handout sheet from her. An advertisement for a teenage male model. Underwear! "Oh! You think I have a shot with something like this?"

"Sure, I do! You've got the perfect body for this kind of thing," Andrea put a wet hand on his wet shoulder. "And that pretty face of yours! If you can bear to leave the makeup at home for a day, I'm sure you'd win out if you gave them a bell."

Modelling? He'd thought about it of course, but that would mean he would have to take his shirt off. Underwear modelling at least. Maybe he could work something out. Perhaps they could summon him if they needed someone's face or something. His bruises were ugly.

"Thanks! I mean it!" Lance hopped up to give her a full body hug. Although Andrea loved his hugs, the two of them were too wet for it to be a pleasant one. "Hey, if you find anything like this, can you let me know? I'm keen to get into modelling and stuff." I wanna be famous. I don't care how I get there.

"If you promise to work on your grand jeté, I'll keep my eyes out," she promised. "I'll see you again on Monday, alright? Have a good night, Lance!" She released and waved as she re-entered the building.

Lance had a few minutes to think it over. He remembered the bruises he currently had - a few brown-purple welts on his back and one on his side. Well, he thought with a sense of humour, as long as they take photos of me from the exact angle every single time, it should be peachy.

"Hey," a deep voice broke Lance's thoughts, and he stiffened. Why is Bobby talking to me? Is he here to make fun of me? Lance was too shy and humiliated to answer him. "Hey, you okay?" Bobby asked a second time. Wow. Okay. Once is polite. Twice is considerate or interest.

"Ahh, yes," Lance looked up into those beautiful brown eyes of Bobby Petrović. "Flustered and embarrassed, but I'm okay. Thanks."

"Don't be," Bobby reassured him with a small grin. His light brown skin, slicked with sweat, shone in the street lights, and his teeth were so, so white. "David's a moron."

"I know, right? He had one job!" Lance was almost shaking with nerves. Give me a dance sequence, a scene on stage or even an impromptu interview, and I will smash it nearly every time. But get me to talk to boys? I fall to pieces. It's hard.

"Dave and Jane look like they're hitting it off," Bobby replied after nearly ten seconds of awkward silence.

"Well I hope they don't hit it off too well," Lance joked. "I'm her ride home and I will leave that hoe behind." He wasn't stupid. He knew Bobby would only bother to make this much effort to talk to him if he wanted to do so, but Lance was... argh. It was frustrating. He had no idea what to say or do. Whatever confidence he'd managed to build throughout the evening was just gone.

"Yeah, well, I'll see you Monday, alright?" Bobby smiled and turned with his bag. He'd be catching the bus home.

"Thanks for talking to me," Lance caught him before he left earshot, and the boy turned around. "I was feeling like a total bellend. Thanks."

"Hey, that's fine," Bobby nodded. He had a Yorkshire accent. It was cute. Lance, Lola and Nicky spoke the queen's English - received pronunciation they learned at school - but their parents had a comically strong Cockney accent. Lance, when he was emotional for whatever reason, tended to drift back to his Cockney roots. "I'll inbox you some time," Bobby then added, and Lance realised again that he'd been silent for far too long.

"Oh! Yeah, that'd be great," Lance's heart fluttered. Maybe this was nothing more than Bobby being sweet after David's faux pas. Perhaps he was just friendly. Don't get your hopes up. You're good at entertaining, but you are indeed terrible at this stuff. Bobby smiled once more before dawdling down the street to the bus stop. Lance's eyes never drifted from him, but Bobby did not ever turn back to look. Bollocks.

"Hey!" Janey sat down on the concrete stairs next to him. He could already feel the vibrations of young teen love coming from her.

"Well, well!" Lance teased her. "Look who decided to show up!"

"I'm sorry! David and I got talking and stuff. Whatever you said to him worked, Lancey!" She threw her arms around him and squeezed. He laughed. "Seriously! He asked me out for this weekend and everything."

"You work fast," Lance commented with a smile. Hopefully, he's far less of a clueless twat with you than he is with me. "If you stop hanging out with me because you've got a boy on a leash, then you're so never getting your weave done again!"

"How is Bobby?" Janey asked, still squeezing him and the two rocking back and forth. "Did it go well?"

"There were a few spanners in the works, but he was nice to me earlier, and it didn't look like he was taking the piss," Lance replied uneasily. He put his hand on hers and enjoyed the hug. Their hugs could last an insanely long time.

"So Bob's your uncle!" Janey told him excitedly, but Lance wasn't so convinced.

"I have no bloody idea!" He frowned, but then he pulled out the folded advertisement Andrea gave him earlier. "But I might have a shot at being a model if nothing else. Check it out!"

"Shut the front door!" Janey avoided swearing where she could. "You wanna do it?"

"I dunno!" Lance sighed. The whole day was filled with uncertainty, and he hated uncertainty. He liked to know where he stood with everything. Where he stood with David and Bobby. Where he stood with Garth, who often took the side of the other kids in the house. The uncertainty spread like a disease, and he doubted his ability to model.

"Hey, queen!" Janey snapped her fingers in an arc, the way the two often did to each other. "I've had enough of this pity party rubbish! Apply! The worst thing they can do is tell you no!"

"Don't you ever get tired of being right about everything all the time?" Lance sulked playfully before turned and kissing her on the cheek. "Yes, okay. You're a slag, but you're my favourite slag."

"You'll be my favourite slag if Mama Sue ever bothers to pick us up," Janey grumbled in return, kissing him back. "What's taking her so long?"

"Probably bailing Nick out of the bird," he rolled his eyes. "Oh, my lawd. Janey. Janey! This is not a drill!" He showed her the screen of his phone. Bobby Petrović has sent you a message. They were friends on Facebook, sure, but they'd never actively engaged with each other before. Lance was too shy, and Bobby was too busy being in relationships to notice him.

"Open it!" She ordered him, so Lance did. They had no secrets from each other. Lance was often the judge and jury of every dick pic Janey received from the horny boys in their school and neighbourhood.

Bobby Petrović: < Hey. Btw I saw Andrea giving you the model ad. You should do it! >

"Okay, I have no idea if that's flirting or not! Janey, help me!" Lance spoke a mile a minute, his accent ricocheting between the queen's English and his native Cockney. "What does it mean? Am I in?"

"Yes, he's flirting!" Janey squeezed him harder as punishment for his density. "You say it's straight boys who are clueless, but I think it's just that Y chromosome. It makes you into idiots!"

"Don't be a bitch," Lance told her, but she kissed him on the cheek again, and he smiled.

What would I do without her?