re you seriously watching Center Stage again?” Courtney plops down next to me on my bed, smelling of grease and cheese. She works as a hostess at Chili’s because she refuses to accept her parent’s money.
Me on the other hand, I’d rather accept the money my parents give me so I can spend my free time dancing. We’ve been best friends since we were kids. Our parents are best friends, their parents were best friends. We just sort of fell in line. And unlike most people in our social circle, we’re different. When we were first pushed together in first grade, we hated each other, until of course I found her sticking glue onto our teacher’s chair, and I helped her hide the evidence so she wouldn’t get into trouble. Since that day, we’ve been attached at the hip.
Sometimes we’re so alike it scares me, but our differences are that she’s boy crazy, I’m nowhere near it, and she hates dance, but dance is my life.
I roll my eyes and bump her shoulder with mine. “Shut up, you know I love this.” I look back to my TV and smile. “Think maybe you could go shower?” I suggest, wrinkling my nose.
She mock glares at me. Her hazel eyes narrow on me as she runs a brush through her thick, russet-brown hair. Courtney is my opposite. She has curvy hips and small breasts, as where I’m slender with a big chest. It sucks because she has great clothes that I would love to borrow. “Fine, wouldn’t want you to catch my smell.”
“You know I love you, but you coming home smelling like that ruins food for me.” I wave my hands around my face and go for the can of air freshener on my desk.
Her brow raises. “Oh? So, I guess you don’t want this delicious Club Sandwich I brought home?” She gets off my bed and walks away.
I scramble off the bed and run after her. “Now wait a minute, I didn’t say that. Gimmie gimmie,” I whine—pleading. The bitch knows I love me some good food.
She laughs at me and tosses me the to-go bag. “I don’t get you, Amaya. You must be the only dancer in the world that eats the way you do and never gains weight. If I didn’t know better, I would swear you’re bulimic.”
I shrug after I take a huge bite. “Meh, once I have kids that will change. You know what my mama looks like.” My mom was just as tiny as I am, but the minute she got pregnant with me, she blew up. I say that with love of course. I love my mama’s squishy hugs.
“Hey what’s this?” Courtney asks, as she picks up my dance sc
hedule from the table.
I lick the mayo from my bottom lip and wipe away the crumbs from the corners of my mouth before answering. “Oh yeah, I’m getting paid to help some football douche dance.”
Courtney busts out laughing. “You serious? Why?”
I roll my eyes. “Something to do with it will make him a better player or whatever. All I know is if this ass shows up late, even once, I’ll stick my skinny foot up his large ass.”
Courtney snorts. “You gotta get over this shit, Am. You and Keith broke up forever ago, not all jocks are dicks like him.”
“All the guys I’ve met, while dating that dick licker, were exactly the same. I’ll do my job, but he steps out of line, even once, well. Yeah. I’ll hurt him.”
“Who’s’ the lucky guy? Anyone hot?” She smirks getting way too much enjoyment from my situation.
“I’ll find out tomorrow if he shows on time.” I just hope the turd isn’t my ex. He’s such an asshole.
She laughs and grabs her pajamas. I flip her off and dig into the rest of my sandwich. I turn my movie back on and lay back against my pillow. My mind wanders from my screen to the practice schedule that is staring at me. I wonder which brute they stuck me with? I pray he doesn’t have two left feet.
One minute I’m thinking of what a doofus my partner will be and the next my alarm is blaring in my ear.
I jerk up from my bed with a piece of lettuce stuck to my cheek. “Ugh,” I grumble and get my stuff together for the shower. Courtney is still sleeping. Lucky. I make my way to our tiny bathroom. I don’t bother with washing my hair. It’s just going to end up all sweaty and gross anyways. After a quick scrub with my lavender body wash, I towel off and secure my hair in a bun.
I throw on a tee and leggings, over my dancing briefs and my favorite socks. I’ll probably have to start the dumbface off slow. A quick swipe of my lip gloss after brushing my teeth and I am ready to go. Slipping my black flats on, I grab my USC sweatshirt and pull it over my head, snatching my bag as I go out the door. The walk to the new dance studio is a bit long, but I like taking in all the different parks along the way. Besides, I can stop for some coffee too if Ground Zero is open.
If the open floor is crowded for our practice, I have permission to use one of the smaller studios. I’m sure whatever asshole I’m stuck with would love the privacy, but the thought of watching them trip over themselves with an audience is tempting. I’m not that evil. Though I’m sure my ex would beg to differ. I don’t know what I saw in him in the first place. He’s shallow and egocentric. Sure, he’s good looking, but he also cheated on me with some bimbo freshman at a fraternity party.
We didn’t even have anything in common. I love scary movies and Keith was a complete wuss puss when it came to any kind of gore on the screen. I don’t want to think about him though. I’ve moved on with my life. He was just a small blip on my map. I don’t need a man, and I sure as hell don’t want one. They’re nothing but trouble.
Chapter 3
Tate
I
watch her perform from the hallway, afraid to interrupt something so beautiful. Her body moves so fluidly. I’ve never seen anything like it—like her, Amaya. Her feet glide across the floor in perfect harmony to a song that only she can hear. She doesn’t even need music.
Amaya moves with a sensual grace that has me seeing her in a new light. The morning sun is spotlighting her as she continues to perform. Right now, she’s only dancing for herself. It’s breathtaking. Her feet move so swiftly as her body twirls seamlessly.