Right Place, Wrong Time

33. Tiny Dancer

A loud rap on the door startled Joey awake the next morning. He jerked upright and immediately his head was spinning, pressure squeezing his brain. He rubbed his temples, squinting in the bright light. He must have forgotten to close the curtains last night. Downstairs, he heard the sound of the door opening, then closing. Not his problem. He pulled the duvet up over his head and quickly fell back asleep.

Several hours later, he woke again. The room was still too bright for his hungover state, but the sun no longer shone directly through the window so he was able to open his eyes. The house was quiet, whether because it was empty or because, like him, everyone else hadn't made it out of bed yet. He didn't know exactly what time it was, so he picked up his phone to check. 11:31. His stomach groaned in protest, filled only with alcohol in more than 12 hours, but the thought of cooking something was about the most unappealing thing in the world right now. Phone already in hand, it was only a few more taps before a pizza was on its way. Beneath the confirmatory text was Lauren's name, the last text from her visible in the preview, and that 'love you' brought a feeling to his stomach quite unlike the hunger, but with it a belated embarrassment. Where he had felt smooth last night he now realised he'd made a fool of himself. She had been nice enough about it, though, and for that he had to be grateful. It wasn't so bad that he could never show his face to her again.

He rolled over into the pillow and slept for thirty more minutes, until there was another knock on the door. This time he jumped out of bed, stepping over the pile of his clothes on the floor from the night before and pulling a t-shirt out of his drawer to join the sweatpants he'd worn to bed.

Pizza box warm in one hand and ice cold drink in the other, he made his way back upstairs and into his room, setting the box down on his desk without a thought for the grease spots it would leave on his school work. He took a long drink then opened the lid of the box, steam issuing out along with the aroma of freshly cooked dough, rich tomato sauce, sizzling cheese. Messily, he ripped out a piece and scarfed it down, not caring that it scalded his mouth as he felt it settle in his stomach. Before he knew it, the entire pizza had been devoured. He sat back in his chair, licking the last remnants from his fingers. Then, with a sigh, he swept the box to the end of the desk, pulling his laptop and his notes towards him, and typed out the title of the essay he really needed to write, though right now he'd rather be doing anything else.

The title was as far as he got, though. Despite the much needed food he'd just had, and the caffeine from the soda, his brain still felt like mush. His gaze drifted to the window, a bright blue sky peeking between clusters of fluffy white clouds. Then he noticed movement in the window opposite. For a second the sun shone from behind a cloud, glaring off the glass and concealing whatever he thought he'd seen. But then it dipped back beneath it, giving him a clear view. Lauren.

She was practising a dance routine in the small space her room afforded her between her bed and the desk. Whether it was for a show, or something she was choreographing for herself, she appeared totally lost in it. She paused for a moment and picked up her phone, Joey guessed to restart her music. Then she was transformed by the routine again, her body moving in a way that Joey could never hope to replicate, and the fact that she had been doing this from such a young age showed. It was only broken when she spun too hard out of a pirouette and laughed at herself, making Joey's heart clench with a fierce affection. Perhaps this was too much of an intrusion on a private moment, but the joy on her face as she danced was too much to look away from, hard as he tried.

And he did try. He would turn his eyes back to his laptop screen with intense determination, only for the sentences to stop up inside him, unable to form any meaning on the page, and his gaze would drift back across the street to Lauren, her body telling a story better than he could with words. She went over and over the routine, drumming it into her muscle memory, but Joey never grew bored of watching it, every time seeming like something new and magical. From this distance, he didn't have to worry about what he said or did, whether he was being too obvious with his feelings. He could just watch her in her element, completely at ease.