Dance of Love

Chapter 1

Sophia's POV:

I'm going to New York today. I've been in this cold room with the same four white walls, sulking for the past week. I need to get out. I wake my phone up and check my snapchat stories. I see my best friend Annie, eating an ice cream and swerving to some music in the background. Her next snap is one with her and our mutual friend Bella, at the beach together. A pang of jealousy hits me. Daytona Beach it says in bold. They both take photos kneeling in the water, as their hair whips majestically in the air. Ugh. I really wish I was with them.

I messaged Annie but she hasn't responded to me today. Hopefully she doesn't forget about me. Like, I know that it's only been a couple hours but what if one day she'll decide to stop responding to me completely?

I look at some other friends' stories. In Jordan's snap story, he's with his boyfriend. They went out for pizza together, they crack a joke. The next one is of him kissing Carlos' cheek. I really don't think that that relationship is going to last to be honest. The only reason Jordan started talking to him was to get his sexy ass football player ex jealous (He told me this himself).

Then I see more. Another person went to a party the night before. Someone else to splash mountain in Disney. One person takes a picture of the wing of the plane they are on through the window. I then stop. This was not making me feel any better. Social media is supposed to connect all of us, but I feel more disconnected then ever.

It's not there fault though. How can they make me feel like a special snowflake if I'm across the country now? Moving stinks.

I look up the bus routes near me. I then see my blue yoga mat from the corner of my eye. I should take a yoga class. I find a class for $10 online, and book it.

I pick up my bag, and yoga mat and start to head out my room and through the living to the front door when I see my mother sprawled on the couch.

She didn't go to work today, even though she was supposed to. There's a large bottle of wine next to her, empty. Ever since my grandmother passed away a month ago, she's been stressing hard. The movie The Godfather plays on the TV. I think that she's watched that film more than a couple hundred times, to be honest. I don't know what she likes about it.

"Hey, ma." I say as I kneel in front of her. She opens her eyes and smiles at me.

"Hey honey." She sits up and runs a hand over her messy hair. "Where you going?"

"I'm going out to New York City"

"Oh, okay. That's fun." She then asks for her purse and I hand it to her. "How much do you need?"

"Nothing" I don't want her to waste her money on me.

"Tell me, or I'm not going to allow you to leave." She then takes out a $20 bill. "Here, just take this."

I kiss her cheek and hug her tight. "Thanks". She then tells me that she's going to go lay down on her bed. I ask her if she's going to be okay and she says yeah. I know that she isn't. I hate seeing her the way she is, I wish I could do more for her. I make sure to feed my green eyed cat, Daisy, she purrs and rubs herself against me as I pour her food. She's the cutest thing.

I then grab my bag, and mat and head out to the nearest NJ Transit bust stop. The sun blares down on my skin. I'm wearing black leggings and a simple tee grey t-shirt with a sports bra underneath and flip flops. I wait for the bus a bit, and then it comes rolling in. The number 159 is displayed on the top and the words Through Bergenline, To Port Authority.

Port Authority is the bus terminal in New York City. I hop on, pay and sit all the way in the back. There's only a few people on board.

We ride through a very busy street with clothing/shoe shops and mostly Spanish restaurants lining both sides, for a good 40 minutes. I manage to write down a depressing poem during this time.