My Sugarplum

Chapter 1

We broke up and went our separate ways, never imagining we'd see each other again. It had been six months since my last hurtful breakup, and I was still wounded, though the scars were buried deep within, unseen to the outside world.

Having changed colleges, I was eager for a fresh start. That day, I received a call about a dance event and decided to participate. The sound of music and laughter drifted through the air as I travelled there, a vibrant contrast to the turmoil within me. With each step, the buzz of excitement grew, yet I couldn't shake the shadows of my past. It felt like a chance to break free and discover something new—if only I knew how much it would change everything.

As soon as I arrived at the dance studio, I noticed only six girls were present. I had heard on the call that a guy would be joining us, but clearly, that wasn't the case.

We began introducing ourselves, each eager to break the ice.

"Hello everyone, I'm Barry, a.k.a. Bartholomew Anderson. I'm your fellow classmate and a musician," I said, hoping to come across as cool.
"Hi! I'm Jenny. Just like Barry said, I'm also your classmate. I love to cook and am very enthusiastic about trying new recipes!"
"Hello, my name is Patty. I love to dance and vibe with good music."
"Hi, I'm Moni. I love to dance."
"Good afternoon! I'm Ariana. I'm six feet tall, and I enjoy dancing as well," she said, standing tall with a confident smile.
"Siri here! You might think I'm a skinny girl, but I have enough strength in me," she added, playfully waving her hand.
"Hi, guys! I'm Kuku. I love to dance and read," she introduced herself, her vibrant energy drawing my attention. Kuku—what a unique name, and she was so beautiful.
Another girl piped up, "Hey! I'm Bugs!"

After our introductions, we danced for a while, laughter echoing around us, before finally heading home.

The next day, someone told me that Bugs wouldn't be coming because of some issues with the choreographer. The choreographer was undeniably attractive, but I quickly reminded myself she had a boyfriend, pushing those thoughts aside.

For the past six months, I had been searching for friends who wouldn't see me through the sympathetic lens of my last breakup. Now, I had six female friends who knew nothing of my past, and I preferred to keep it that way for a while.

We won our first dance competition, and with each victory, our bond grew stronger. After practice, I often sat beside Kuku and Siri, enjoying our conversations. Siri, slender and lively, would tell me stories about how her boyfriend treated her. I couldn't help but think about my own past. I would never hurt anyone like that again. It felt refreshing to be around people who didn't know my history, who treated me like I was more than just a broken heart.

Now there was a fashion show event, and we all went to the choreographer's home for a brainstorming session. It was my first time visiting someone's house, and I was excited yet nervous. She greeted us warmly and even treated us to lunch—Pav Bhaji, which was too good to be true.

Afterward, everyone drifted into her bedroom to rest. I had never entered a girl's bedroom before, especially not with all these girls and their parents around. I felt a mix of curiosity and apprehension. A few minutes later, the choreographer called me in, and when I entered, everyone was lounging comfortably.

They began brainstorming ideas. "How about you carry a girl on your shoulder or lift them up?" they suggested. My heart raced. I had never done anything like this before, and I hadn't even touched my ex. Did they think I was gay? I could do it, but I would need permission from my mom. Yes, I was 18, but I still wanted her approval. If that seemed odd, so be it.

As they started practicing in her bedroom, I found myself lifting Moni, Siri, and Patty onto my shoulders. I felt oddly embarrassed for no reason, but I guess this was how "cool" guys experienced life. Am I cool now?