Left or Right

Chapter 15

Riley's POV:

In the hotel room later that night, James and I shared a room whilst Piper and Immy were in a family room with their parents. I had just taken a shower and changed clothes into something more loose and comfortable in the period of time James had gone and ordered some pizza for a take away for the two of us tonight.
It was when I exited the bathroom, fixing my hair into a high messy bun that he entered the room at the same time. He smiles at me and closes the door behind him, placing the key-card aside and making his way over before placing the box of medium-sized pizza down on the fixed desk.

"Hey," he says to me, making his way over and kissing my forehead, immediately taking me off-guard.
"And that was because . . . ?" I ask, in search of an answer as I turn around to face him, biting my lip. He chuckles softly and shrugs.
"I don't know. Just felt like kissing you," he answers, making me roll my eyes. Taking a seat down on the bed, I watch him with prudent eyes as he opens up the box of pizza before walking over with it in his hands to place on top of the bed. 
"We're going to mess up the bedsheets, James," I complain but he just shakes his head and titters lightly.
"That's the chamber maid's problem. Not mine."

Chuckling a little, I give in and roll over so that I was sat on my stomach and I take one of the pizzas out for myself to eat it. James kicks off his trainers and sits down near me, his back against the headrest. I'm about to grab the remote to switch on the Freeview TV but he beats me to it and then places the remote down on the bedside drawer, causing me to look up at him, confused.
"Uh, James?" I say. 
"Come on, Ri. I want to talk to you. Have a proper conversation."
"Okay . . ." I respond slowly, wiping the corner of my lips with my thumb. "What do you want us to talk about?" I ask him, bringing myself to sit up properly and cross my legs over the top of the duvet so I could view his face fully. He smiles softly, clearly glad that I hadn't chosen to decline his want.

Part of me had a feeling he was going to bring up Nate again but, to be honest, even though I should be worrying, Nate is the last thing on my mind right now and I really don't want to have to be reminded of everything to do with him when I'm having fun for once. I know I've given James more information than I originally intended, and that's exactly why I can't tell him more. If I tell him, I can only picture what will happen. Mom and Dad will most likely clock onto what's going on and then I'll only be taken away from James again, taken away from my home and my life, and that's the last thing I want to happen.

"Will you please be honest with me?" he asks before even giving me a hint as to what the question might be. I look up at him and hesitate for a moment before nodding. He wanted my trust and honesty? I'll give it to him. But on one condition.
"I'll be honest with you if you're honest with me," I answer. He looks down at me and nods, taking my hand and lifting it up between our two bodies before gesturing down to our two linked palms.
"Always," he whispers, kissing my knuckles. I bite my lip and nod.
"You first."
"Okay," he responds. He lets go of my hand and then pulls his knees up to his chest, placing his pizza down inside the box again. I do the same.

"Dance," he says and instantly, I look down, staring straight ahead of me.
"What about dance?" I mumble, refusing to make eye-contact with him. I knew where this was headed. I had a similar conversation with Amanda about this a couple of days ago. I'm shocked I even managed to conceal my true thoughts and feelings from her. I just don't know if I'll be able to do the same with James.
"You don't like dance anymore?" he asks. My face contorts in confusion as I turn around to face him.
"What?" I spit, my tongue moving faster than I could acknowledge. "Who told you that?"
"So it's true," he says, avoiding my question. "You don't want to be a dancer anymore?"
"Being a dancer isn't a real job, James. It's a dream. An idea. A concept created in heaven. Being a ballerina just isn't a reality-"
"What?" he cuts me off, moving his body closer to mine. "Riley, of course it's a reality. You can make it as a dancer-"
"Yeah? For how long? Say we win internationals, I get a scholarship or something, get spotted and then I go travelling around making money doing tours. That all lasts until what age? Let's say thirty? Then what? What else am I supposed to do for the next half of my life? Sit on my butt moping because I can't do a single pirouette anymore-"

"Riley," he interjects firmly, placing his hand down on my knee. It shuts me up and I close my eyes, throwing my head forward in my own hands above my lap. "What's this really about?" he whispers. "I'm not asking for an argument. I'm not trying to disagree with you. I just want to understand what's happened to make your dreams dissolve into thin air-"
"Dreams get crushed, James," I whisper sternly, raising my head back up to look at him. "Okay. You have a dream and you spend all your life and waste all your time trying to make it a reality. The problem with dreams is that they never come true. They die long before you do yourself and the painful truth is that most people spend the rest of their lives wondering why they couldn't reach their goals. Dreams are just pathetic," I tell him, looking straight into his eyes. I could tell that my words were hurting him. each syllable was like a sting to his heart. But I wasn't about to allow the guy I care about to continue to be blinded by the beacon that is a dream. He needs to realise that life isn't like that. He needs to be told the truth about life the same way I was.
"I'm pathetic," I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes as I say those two words I had become all too accustomed to.

"Riley," he says again, his voice just the same. "Who have you been talking to? You're not pathetic. And neither are dreams-"
"I think it's time I ask my question now," I cut him off before he can go any further with his little spiel. Sighing, he takes his hand off my knee, allowing me to rearrange myself as I breathe out shakily. The last time I cried, I was locked up in the stash room of the offices and I hadn't been let out until the next day for supposed 'punishment'. If I was to cry again now, it would only make James worry more and I'd be creating a bigger puddle for the both of us to drown in.
"Fine," he whispers. "Go ahead."

"When we were in a long-distance relationship," I start. He nods his head slowly to show he was understanding. "Did you ever set your eyes on anyone else? Look at anyone else? Even just consider maybe kissing someone else?" I ask him.
My breathing hitches slightly as I talk and I watch as James cheeks go in when he swallows. His eyes don't leave my own, he just continues to profusely stare at me. He licks his lower lip as I bite my bottom one. A strand of hair falls out of my bun and lingers down the side of my face. He notices this and then leans forward, capturing it between his thumb and index finger, before he shakes his head.
"The only person I wished to see, set eyes on, or even kiss was you, Riles," he tells me, tucking the strand behind my ear. He shakes his head lightly and closes his eyes. "I don't know what's happened to the dancer I admire so damn much. I just wish you'd tell me," he whispers, making me have to swallow the guilt.

I feel guilty enough due to keeping things from him already. But now that he's told me he hadn't laid eyes on anybody whilst I did? That makes the feeling 100x worse.

"I'm sorry, James," I say, shaking my head as I reach my hands out to hold his head against mine, my fingers weaving into his black curls. "I really am."