Note: To the right is a picture that can be used as a guide/image as to what Tempo Dance Studio looks like. I saw it on Google and that's how I pictured the studio looking like as I was writing this chapter.
I actually had another one, which showed the rest of the studio but I dunno how to put that up too :/
Hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading =)
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"And a one, two, three..." I whisper softly counted at the first notes of music.
I waited for you today
But you didn't show
No no no
I needed you today
So where did you go?
You told me to call
Said you'd be there
And though I haven't seen you
Are you still there?
I began dancing along, making it up as I go. This song reminds me so much of Dawn. The first verse makes me remember the first few days after her death. My life was meaningless because of how emotionally dependent I had been on her. I refused to believe that she had gone; I went as far as trying to block out the truth. But I soon realised that she will always live as long as I kept her in my memories.
I stop dancing and flop onto the floor. I didn't even realise that I had started singing along until the chorus came.
I cried out with no reply
And I can't feel you by my side
So I'll hold tight to what I know
You're here and I’m never alone
The second verse was just about to start when I hear someone clapping behind me.
"Wow. That ... That was incredible."
I bolt upright and look over my shoulder. There was a girl standing there. She was wearing black denim short shorts (the ones that fray at the bottom), white tank top with the words “Dance your heart out” written in black, and black Converse. Her hair was jet black and stopped at her shoulders. When we locked eyes I noticed her green- grey eyes.
"Uh... Thanks," I replied.
She smiled. "No problem. So-"
"Wait. How long have you been standing there?" I interrupt, curious.
"Long enough to know you're an amazing singer," She says while leaning on the doorframe, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You do know that, right?" She tilts her head to the side.
I nodded while pulling myself up off the floor. I walk over to the stereo and take out my iPod. "What are you doing here?" I say, straight to the point.
Hey, don't judge. I've been coming to Tempo Dance Studio for years and I've never seen this girl before. So it's no wonder I'd be curious as to her presence, wouldn't I? For all I know, she could be a serial killer or a stalker or a -
"What do you think I'm doing here? This is a dance studio, isn't it?" She replies, interrupting my thoughts.
"No need to be so rude. Yeesh," I say, walking over to my bag which lay just a few steps away.
She scoffs. "I can do what I like. You don't control me." She uses one foot to push herself off the wall.
"I never said I did," I reply, sticking my chin in the air. She was now standing in front of me.
She looks me up and down. What a sight I must be in. From the corner of my eye, I can see my reflection in the mirror. My auburn hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, my orangey-pink sweatpants were rolled up to rest just below my knees and I was wearing a pink crop top.
What? It's comfy, okay? It may not exactly be fashionable but comfort comes first.
"You know, sticking your chin in the air doesn't scare me. I could easily beat you in a fight," She chuckles while shaking her head.
"I don't doubt that," I admit. "Now what do you want?"
"To dance," she raises her eyebrows in a "duh, isn't it obvious?" kind of way.
"Of course. Well, Ms. Fernandez isn't here. I could give you her number so you can call her, if you want."
"Uh okay, sure," She smiles. "Sorry for being kind of rude. I've been told my sense of humour can be a bit... Unwelcomed."
"That's alright." I reach into my bag and pull out a pink piece of paper and a purple pen. I scribble down my dance teacher's number. "Here," I hand it to her.
She looks at it like it's going to come to life and bite her.
"Well, do you want it or not?" I say impatiently.
"Uh… yeah, I do. It's just..." She trails off.
"It's just what?"
"Very girly. Seriously, why's it so pink?"
I couldn't help it; a laugh creeps through my lips. She took the paper out of my hand. She held it out in front of her and pinched her nose as if it smelt bad.
"This reeks of roses and all around girliness."
"Girliness? That's not even a word," I say, still laughing.
"It is now," She says, smiling. "Hey, what's your name?"
"Amber. Yours?"
"Hall. Tessa Hall."
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Dancaholic
Teen FictionDancaholic follows the story of Amber Morgan; a recent high school graduate who has big dreams of being a dancer. Amber is not the kind of girl who beats around the bush. She's known what she's wanted to be since she was 3 years old. She has been d...