(A/N) This chapter is dedicated to @louwriteswithme for being sooo sweet and supportive and just a great person to talk to! Thanks for the love <3

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A girl without knowledge of her mistakes, a boy with no recognition of his desire, and a game too intelligent for inexperienced hearts. Now that's a recipe for disaster.

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*Charlotte's POV*

Nervous? Yes, I was.

Scared? Absolutely.

Excited? Not at all.

Okay, maybe a little.

Unfortunately, the weekend came around far too quickly, and that was something I never thought I would have to say. Danielle wouldn't get off my back about how romantic it was that I was teaching Louis how to dance.

"It's so cute!" She'd say. Sometimes, I think that girl forgets that Louis is engaged. And my mother was no better. After Eleanor's unrequited visit, I was forced to spill. So I told her. I told her everything--from the night Louis and I met to why Eleanor behaved so strangely around me. She said she was proud of the selfless decisions I had made, but I sometimes wondered if I could have handled it another way. In a way that assured not only Louis' happiness, but mine, too.

Mother didn't let me out of the house before filling my ears with her constant gloating about how adorable it was that I was the one who was teaching Louis how to dance. It was a side of her I had never witnessed: She was almost as giddy as Danielle every time we talked about Louis and I.

I didn't think it was adorable or romantic or cute that I was his instructor. Tragic was the proper word.

Think of it this way: A girl teaching the boy she's so foolishly in love with how to dance with his fiance at their engagement ball.

Ironic, huh?

So it wasn't a surprise when I found myself doing what I usually did in a crisis much like this one.

I took pictures.

Pictures of what, you may ask?

The entire walk to the dance studio, my camera refused to leave my hands. I shot pictures of the city, the shops--the trees that stood there everyday but I never seemed to notice. I started recognizing details, people, places that I had never before cared to pay attention to. Small mysterious alleys that snaked through the several shops that lined London's streets. The scrawny boy who possessed the sparkling green eyes and sat at the corner of the diner I visited often, a worn out guitar strapped across his shoulder.

The strangest things fascinated me--things that any other passerby wouldn't waste a glance on. The thing was that no one place could ever get old. Every day, there were discoveries to be made, adventures to be taken, and photography was a way of capturing the essence of everything old and new around me, around my world.

My journey ended when I stepped into the dance studio. Liam arranged for us to have our own dance studio until the engagement ball, one that was in the same building as the band's recording studio. 

The room was large enough to teach a whole class in, much too big for just two people. The walls were lined with quality speakers and one of the walls was covered completely by a large mirror. I set my bag down in the corner of the room, the way my feet gently padded on the bare floor making me nostalgic. At one point, all I ever thought about was dancing. It had become an important part of me, but when I discovered photography, I realized that it was my true passion. Dancing was still something I enjoyed and poured my heart into, but it wasn't my life. Photography was. 

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I hadn't danced in a while, so I was a bit nervous when my feet began moving to the music. Ballet was the first thing I ever learned, so it's the first thing my feet knew to do. The movements were slow and mechanical at first, but soon became smooth as they melted into the rhythm of the music.

As I continued to dance, I didn't once allow Louis to cross my mind. He was blocked out by a wall I spent so long building. Instead, I focused on anything but him. The kid playing the guitar on the sidewalk, what was his life like? Is that the only way he made money? Did he have a family? Perhaps a sister, or a brother? And why did he need money so badly? Was a family member in need of surgery? Did the boy have a home, or someone to call home?

I couldn't remember the last time that I completely forgot about Louis and all the drama that surrounded us. As I danced around the room, my mind and body divulging into the beat of the music, I had not a single care of what was going to happen between Louis and I. But of course, my bliss couldn't last for long.

I didn't hear Louis walk into the room, the only sound filling my ears being the one of music--the one I was completely lost in.

"You're really good," he had said. I wanted to kick myself when his words arose a flutter in my stomach.

 I stopped dancing and strode over to my bag for a bottle of water. Without sparing a glance at him, I brought the plastic bottle to my mouth.

"You're late." I didn't like talking to him that way, but I tried my best to follow Liam's advice: treat him as a student. Nothing more, nothing less. I also knew that I couldn't possibly completely devote myself to that rule. I had told Louis that I didn't have feelings for him, and say that was true. Why would the encounter at the meadow affect me so much? If I wanted him to believe me, I had to pretend like nothing had changed between us, a task that was becoming more difficult day by day. I heard the soft patter of his feet as he walked closer to where I was stood and willed myself not turn around.

"Sorry, teacher." A smirk could very easily be detected in his voice as he grew closer. How he was capable of acting as if nothing had happened between us; I don't know. What I did know was that I had to behave in the same manner. 

I fiddled with the speakers and put on my play-list before turning to face Louis. Just the sight of him managed to take my breath away every single time. Even in the simplest white t-shirt and pair of jeans, he somehow looked utterly captivating. It wasn't necessarily his wardrobe that gave him that effect, it was his eyes. Shining a saphire blue underneath the studio's lights, they danced with life and drowned in the most twisted of sorrows. 

He smiled faintly, bringing me back from where I got lost to much too often. My hand comically rubbing my chin in thought, I walked in circles around the slightly intimidated boy.

"You'll have to show me what you already know first," I said, my wavering voice betraying me, preventing me from sounding like my emotions weren't all concocted into a strange farrago that had found home in the pit of my stomach. 

Louis brought his hand up and gingerly rubbed the back of his head. "I don't really know much."

How adorably lost he seemed wasn't supposed to be what I was focusing on, but it always was. I heaved a sigh. I had expected Louis to have knowledge of at least some ballroom dance steps. 

"Let's get started, then."

* * * 

The foxtrot. It's all about smoothness--the ability of the paired dancers to act in unity as they glide together across the dance floor. Bound together by their feet, which move in such scrupulous synchronization, the participants' one goal is to move as if they're connected not only by the music but by their souls. 

So as Louis placed a hesitant hand on my back and captured my hand with his other one, I couldn't help but ask: How can something performed with such unanimity hold a meaning so different for the two people dancing? For Louis, this was probably nothing more than what it was supposed to be: a dance lesson. But for me, it was much more. It was the closest I would ever feel to Louis. Dancing with someone had a way of connecting you and your partner in ways you never would think possible. 

And after searching the agonizingly long list of dances Eleanor had composed, Louis had decided that the foxtrot seemed fun. There was no way we'd get through every single dance, but we had to try.

I lowered my gaze, refusing to meet his eyes and instead focused on the way his hands were positioned.

"Posture. You have to stand as straight as possible," I demonstrated by stiffening my back and sticking my chin high up in the air. Without saying a word, Louis complied, his hold on my tingling hand loosening as he focused instead on his stance.

"Like this?" He questioned. I could tell that he wasn't comfortable with being so tense, but it's what had to happen if he wanted to learn this dance. 

"Perfect," I offered a grin. "Just follow my lead now, alright?" When Louis' head moved up and down in a nod, I took two smooth steps to the right. He was quick to follow and soon reciprocated my strides until we were moving in unison. 

"Are you sure you've never danced before?" The question left my mouth without permission, but I was curious. Louis' posture remained intact and his movements stable. Either he had done this before or he was just a very quick learner. 

He grinned. "Positive." 

I tried to ignore the way his eyes were locked onto mine during the whole dance. I continued showing him more steps and he learned instantly, the only conversation between us being about the techniques of the foxtrot. I was beginning to think that he had forgotten about our previous confrontation, but God knew it was too good to be true. 

Louis was gentle. His movements were so fragile, yet fluent. Not aggressive. You can tell a lot by the way a person dances, by their body language. Louis was lost in his thoughts--just as I seemed to be these days. I could tell by his distant eyes that somehow never ceased to leave mine and by the serreptitious wave of earnesty that washed over him, snatching away the frequent jokes and witty remarks that he had become all to serious.

The foxtrot wasn't an intimate dance, nor was it most romantic. It was more formal than anything, but dancing with Louis made me believe otherwise. I was aware that he was reading me. He had this astounding ability to understand me more than anyone else ever did. At times, it was something to be thankful for, but at others, much like this one, I was afraid of it. I was scared that one day, Louis would be able to see right through me and dig out the secrets I tried so hard to hide. He would know how I felt about him. He would know that I lied when I said I didn't have feelings for him and he would know why I did it. The thought was terrifying enough to create fear not only in my mind but in my heart, also. 

Louis had been watching me with such meaningful eyes, so it didn't come as a surprise that when he did choose to shatter the silence, it was with words just as heavy with meaning.

"You don't believe me when I say it, do you?" He tugged on my hand, so the distance between us was half of what was required for the dance. My heart's pace inevitably picked up and I gulped at our proximity, praying that my voice wouldn't once again betray me. 

"Say what?" 

His thumb ran over the back of my hand in repeated circles as he spoke. "That I care about you."

Louis' voice was a mere whisper, and his features solemn-- stupidly unaware of the effect his words had on me. What could I possibly say to that? Of course I knew that he cared about me. Time after time, he never let me believe otherwise. The thing was that I believed he cared more about Eleanor. I was just a hindrance in their relationship, a stark confusion for Louis. 

"Louis," I finally exhaled once my feet stopped following the dance steps. I unlatched my hand from his inviting one and stepped backwards. "I do believe you. It's just that--"

"I don't need you to say anything else," Louis offered a disconcerting smile, the warmth of his hand re-enveloping mine, "I just need to know that you believe me, that's all." 

For once, I was glad that Louis interrupted me when he did. What did I plan on saying if he hadn't? 

He took my by surprise when he began moving again, gliding across the room with me following behind. This time around, his grip on my hand was stronger, the look in his eyes softer, and the smile on his lips made it obvious that the mood had been lifted with only those few words.

His words did warm my heart. He wanted me to know that he cared for me even when I told him that I had moved on. Once again, I couldn't help but question my decision. I couldn't prevent the question from repeating itself over and over.

Had I done the right thing? 

Thankfully, Louis didn't allow for me to give the question much thought.

"I think we've got the foxtrot down." He stopped moving and removed his hand from mine, leaving it feeling strangely cold. He brought both hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. "What's next?"

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I wasn't the least bit tired. After having woken up at seven o'clock in the morning and dancing with Louis from twelve to three, I still felt peculiarly fresh. My mind kept me awake. It didn't rest until it found a way to contemplate the meaning behind every one of Louis' words, his actions. 

Louis had to leave just after we went over the basics of the second dance: The tango. A dance he claimed to have no knowledge of, but, much like the foxtrot, seemed to be a natural at. The tango was a faster dance, more enthusiastic than the foxtrot, so the tension that had lingered in the studio the second Louis stepped in seemed a bit less infringing. Not to say that the awkwardness between us had completely disappeared, but it had been tattered.

My feet carried me down the sidewalk and through various twists and turns until I found myself in front of the tiny diner, the very same one where I had seen the boy with the guitar. It was a strange feeling--one that can only be described as hope-- that lingered in the core of my heart as my eyes scanned the busy street. I was looking for him, for the same child I had seen earlier that morning. 

And I nearly leapt with joy when I spotted him sitting on the same curb he had been before. I frowned. Had he been there all day? Sure, the prenetrating winds of Winter that brought piercing frigidness had died down, but the occasional gust of coldness remained for the birth of Spring. From what I could tell, the scrawny boy was dressed in nothing but torn jeans and a shabby t-shirt, his hair unkempt. 

Wasn't he cold? How long had he been sitting out there?

I couldn't really explain why I stood and watched his fingers strum a rhythm on the guitar that was so foreign yet pleasing to my ears. He was no doubt talented and it was obvious that he poured his heart into his music, yet no one would give him a second look. It bothered me--no, it angered me to see him being ignored by the people that passed only inches away from where he was sat. No one appreciated his efforts or his talent and it soon dawned on me that I was also one of those people. I didn't give much thought to the boy and his life until after I had seen him, which made me feel worse than I already did.

An obscure sense of panic washed over me when I watched the boy stand up and gather his things. His brushed aside his dark hair from where it had fallen in front of his eyes and slung his guitar over his shoulder. When he finally turned around, I was able to make out his soft features. His eyes were cast down, a small smile gracing his pale lips. 

I don't know why or when my feet began moving, but they did, and soon enough, I found myself standing next to the mysterious boy. He seemed to be young, at most three years younger than myself.

The only thing he hadn't picked up was a lone jar with a few coins laying at the bottom. Before he could turn around and spot me, I pulled out a wad of cash from my pocket and dropped it into the glass cylinder. I don't know why I was so afraid of being seen by him. I soon disappeared into the swarm of people waiting to cross the street ahead.

It was near impossible to ignore the smile that tugged so persistently at my lips.

I had done the right thing. 

In more ways than one.

I hopefully helped the boy out with whatever problem he was facing. 

I took away Louis' troubles, even if it did mean lying to both him and to myself. 

The boy's situation wasn't one I had to give much thought to in order to know that for once in my twisted  life, I had made the right choice. I didn't have to rethink my motives or analyze my actions.

But Louis and I? I was well aware that I couldn't expect everything to be alright now. Life had proven to be disorienting and unforseeable so the best that I could do was just believe for my own sake that I really had chosen the right path. And maybe, just maybe, no matter how ridiculous the thought seemed at the time, this path's destination would be one where everything would turn out to be alright. 

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(A/N) I had a bit trouble writing this chapter. It's a bit choppy, but I'll edit it once I take a look at the previous chapters, too! 

So remember how I said I'd try to finish this book before school starts? Well, my plan didn't exactly work out. The first week of school has already passed and it's been a busy one! I'm taking a real liking to some of my classes, though! :)

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's the second time I'm writing it since my computer froze the first time and the chapter ended up not saving -__-

PLEASE leave your votes and your comments! I feel like nobody's really been commenting lately and the more feedback I get from you guys, the more it motivates me to update! 

Thanks a ton for reading and being so patient! Love you! - Aysha :)