temporary heroes

chapter 2

The following week of rehearsals was their most intense yet. As it turned out, working up an entirely new routine just two months before she and Emily were expected to compete with it wasn't an easy feat. Who would've guessed?

One particularly grim November morning, Tori had woken up to find that her space heater had short-circuited. She threw on a pair of thick leggings and a fleece hoodie, tugged gloves over her cold-reddened hands, and ate her cereal in silence. It was her twenty-sixth birthday.

When she finally made it to their rehearsal venue, teeth chattering and a mug of cold coffee in hand, she was already five minutes late and Emily was nowhere to be found.

"Morning, Chris," she greeted the choreographer, "Have you seen Emily?"

He looked up from his notes, "Nope. Probably got held up in traffic."

Tori crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. Chris was a God awful liar and it wasn't hard to tell when he wasn't being forthcoming.

"Emily doesn't drive."

"I'm not Emily's keeper," he shrugged, "Doesn't she live in the same building as you?"

"Not until next month. C'mon, Chris," she whined, "Whatever it is that you two are playing at, I'm not in the mood. Emily and I are still getting tripped up on some of the floorwork from last week and we're running out of time. We have so much to cover today."

He raised an eyebrow, "How about you give her five more minutes before you bring out the big guns, Sarge."

She let out a huff and yanked off her snow-soaked hoodie and leggings, tossing them against the wall before adjusting her sports bra and spandex shorts and storming over to the barre to start warming up.

Just as she was about to lose it on Chris — still sitting cross-legged in the corner with his notebook and a permanent smirk on his face — Tori was startled by the sound of the door slamming behind her.

"Surprise!" a familiar voice called out and Tori spun on her heels to find Emily beaming with a tray of cupcakes balanced precariously in her arms and a metallic gift bag dangling from her free hand.

"What's all this for?"

"It's not much of a party, but happy birthday, Tori."

For a moment, Tori thought she might cry, as pathetic as that would've been. The last birthday she'd celebrated was her nineteenth. It wasn't like she had anything against birthdays, she'd just always found the idea of planning a party for herself weirdly self-involved and pointless.

"You remembered my birthday?"

"Duh," she looked at Tori as if the alternative was insane, "You don't look a day over twenty-five, by the way."

Chris sauntered over then, smug as hell, and gave Tori a shove, "Happy birthday, you old hag." Tori scowled and he turned to Emily, "You're lucky I covered for you. Tori was about to go storm the streets looking for you. All peroxide and hellfire."

"I'm a natural blonde, actually," Tori shoved him back, "Dickhead."

He sucked his teeth, "I don't know, honey. You're getting a little brassy."

She held up her middle finger in response and turned her attention to Emily. She watched as Emily set the tray of cupcakes down on the small table at the back of the studio and turned back to face her with an easy smile. Something about the way Emily's eyes and nose crinkled with the action triggered a swell of warmth in her chest. Emily had remembered her birthday. Emily had cared.