Azalea Faye Larau - The sweetheart socialite with a fire underneath and an up and coming ballet dancer in London striving to stay afloat in an ocean of sharks, all the while dealing with heartbreak and loss.
Harlan Emeric Marchetti - The Italian Maf...
"His lips didn't just touch my skin, they touched my soul."
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A few days after Myles and I had broken up, I received a bouquet of flowers on my doorstep in London. Looking at the card, I was confused at the little message written on it in neat and cursive handwriting.
'I can't wait to have you in my arms, my darling girl.'
Thinking it was accidentally sent it to me I flipped the card for a name, address or anything of the sort, but found nothing.
Confused, I put the card aside in a drawer and decided the flowers were too pretty to throw away. They were azaleas after all, my absolute favourite.
I put them in my mother's favourite vase, admiring their beauty as I mulled over the message on the card. I knew for a fact it wasn't Myles, because he was in the hospital dealing with injuries, apparently, from a fight he got into when he got drunk at a pub with his friends.
At least that's what I was told.
But the girls said he was beaten to a pulp, and were mad at the fact he wasn't already dead yet.
And they were certain that I had a secret admirer who would send me sweet little messages that made my day brighter with a bouquet of flowers with them ever since the break up.
And each time, the flowers were a different colour, prettier than the last. And I absolutely loved it, disregarding the fact that I didn't know who the person sending them was, but that would a problem for later.
I shake my head, clearing away the memories and various thoughts as the music starts to play and my dance team enters while I watch from the side, waiting for my cue to go on.
I look towards the audience which was mostly empty except for a few people cheering us and the other teams on, including my friends who watched with big smiles. And then my eyes fell on the three people who seemed to be stone faced, stoic, and calculating and my heart leapt to my throat.
They watched with rapt attention, looking for flaws and mistakes and I couldn't help myself gulping from the nerves.
The judges studied each and every dancer with rapt attention, judging their every move, every twist and turn and breath, every little mistake, making me even more nervous as my eyes flicked between them and the performers rapidly.
And then my cue finally came and I smiled briefly, joining my partners on stage as I lost myself to the beat of the music, twirling, twisting, letting my head fall back as I went through the steps we had been perfecting for days.
As the music came to an end, my friends and Ms. Giulia clapped and cheered for us as a wide smile took over my face.
Holding hands with the rest of my dance team, we bowed gracefully before exiting the stage in a single file and cheering each other on. Once we were backstage as Ms. Giulia came over to us.
