Desire

II.

Lea

"I can't believe the nerve that she has!" I exclaimed, tossing my keys onto the granite countertop of my kitchen. Rosie, my best friend who was stirring her chai latte, looked amused. "She waltzes into the studio, acting all high and mighty like she's the queen of the dance floor or something."

Rosie raised an eyebrow, sipping her drink. "What did she do this time?"

I huffed, gripping the handle of the fridge. "At this point, what hasn't she done?!" I pulled the fridge door open, my eyes scanning over its contents. I wasn't even hungry to begin with, but I needed to eat something before I passed out from all of this rage that I felt. I spotted a parfait I had brought home from the store a few nights ago and grabbed it, turning it around to double check the expiration.

"Don't even get me started on how insensitive she is. Telling me that I'm going to ruin her chances at her stupid little Astoria spot." I yank open the cutlery drawer, causing all of the spoons and forks to clang together. "I just—ugh! I hate her."

Rosie raised an eyebrow, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to my storm of emotion. "I get it, she's frustrating, but—"

"No, you don't get it," I interrupted, running a hand through my hair. "You don't have to deal with her. Every day I get up thinking maybe today is going to be a good day. Then she finds a way to piss me off! It's like she lives to ruin my day. Like she's just—" I let out a frustrated noise, too angry to finish the sentence. "I can't stand her."

Rosie sighed. "I can see why you feel that way. It sounds like she's been pushing your buttons for a long time."

"She has," I agreed, nodding fervently. "It's been years of this. And I've tried to ignore it, tried to just do my own thing, but she keeps coming at me. It's like she has some kind of personal vendetta against me. I don't know if it's because we used to be friends and now we're not. And I'm tired of pretending it doesn't get to me."

Rosie looked at me sympathetically. "Look, I know she can be a real pain in the ass. But you're just going to have to be the bigger person here. Especially since you two have to talk to each other almost every day for the next six months."

She did have a point. I don't know about Isabel, but I don't have the time or the energy to argue with her every single day about the showcase. "Maybe I should just let her win this time. Give her control of the whole project. Things are only going to get worse from here, especially since someone from Astoria Ballet is going to be watching. She's going to give me hell."

Rosie offered me a small smile. "Maybe that's her way of dealing with whatever's going on in her own life. Doesn't make it okay, but you know what they say—people only hurt others when they're hurting themselves."

I rolled my eyes. "That's great in theory, but it's not helping me right now."

"I get it." Rosie placed a hand on my shoulder. "But don't just hand over a victory to her. Even if you two were friends in the past, she has no right to treat you this way, and it's your grade too, not just hers. Don't let her control how you feel. You're strong, and you've got a lot going for you. She's only one person."

I gave a short laugh. "Yeah, but she has the personality of ten extremely angry men."

The next day

I groan as my alarm blares through my room, the obnoxious beep pulling me from the warmth of my bed. With a deep sigh, I swipe my phone off the nightstand and hit snooze. I force myself to sit up, stretching out the sleep from my limbs as I rub my eyes.

Sliding out of bed, I walk over to my closet, opening it wide and scanning the options. I can already feel the tension in my shoulders from knowing I'll have to see Isabel. She's probably already up, polished and perfect as usual. I scowl at the thought but shake it off. I can't let her ruin my day already.