We Are Tidal

Chapter Three - Dance with the Past

Chapter Three

Dance with the Past

After Friday's party, I wiled away the weekend in bed, my laptop propped open in bed and Netflix playing. For all of Sunday, I did not open the curtains and rose only once to go to the bathroom and take my medication, throwing the box back into my bedside cabinet with resentment. I had been taking anti-depressants for nearly six months and still, the idea did not sit well with me. As if I was putting a plaster over an all too large bullet wound.

Looking in the mirror on Monday morning, I see that my silver hair washed me out, my nose stud looked too big for my face and the bluish circles under my navy eyes give me a haunted appearance. Even my pajama shorts seemed to look a little baggy on me. But still, I had to make it into college today - my grades were perhaps the only thing that mattered anymore. The only thing my parents would have been proud of. 

But dance,  that mattered too. They'd invested in my dancing since I was three years old. I couldn't turn away from it now.

Quickly, I threw my hair into a messy bun and put on my comfiest dance clothes; my wrap yoga pants that lay snug against my legs, and a crop top that was both soft and loose. Downstairs,  as my oat-milk latte brewed, I fed and snuggled my little dogs and single solace in the world; two toy fox terrier siblings; Arya and Sansa. My only barrier against the pounding silence of my home.

"My babies," I croon, opening the expansive backyard for them to play in securely until I would make it home this evening, popping their breakfast in their trays.

Grabbing my latte and a banana, I lock up the house and drive the campus. It was a mere ten minutes away - a drive along the coast and the beach that was a favorite spot of the students. I keep my eyes on the road, avoiding thinking of all of the good times I had had there.

I was the last to make it into the artistic gym, named aptly after the famous Ballerina Misty Copeland. Tugging my dance bag from the boot of the car, my hair falling out of its bun, I debate once more if I should just turn around, drive to the reception and drop out.

Chaotic, that was how I looked. And how the rest of the team likely saw me when I entered the room to find them already stretching, some warming up on barre.

"Welcome, Miss Lawless," The dance coach, Caroline Crawley drawled from where she held a girls ankle out behind her as she stretched by the door.

I grin and give a mock bow. Stern as she may be, Caroline liked me.  Despite many attempts to feel otherwise, as I had quit the team the week before Nationals last year. 

They had lost and I knew I was a large part of the reason why. Hence the room's atmosphere became stiff with tension when I sat in the corner and began fixing my hair and stretching.

The girls by my side did not talk to me or look at me. It was more than pissing them off by walking out before Nationals. The likelihood was that I had a reputation from the parties, whereas the dance team was strictly above board with on-campus behavior.

The only distraction from my chaotic entrance was the bang of the door - great, at least someone was later than I had been.

I didn't look up, even when my tardy buddy sat down next to me. It was only when I saw the boy's socks that I froze. He wore a yellow beaded anklet above his white gym socks.

Gabriel. Arthur's younger brother. And my old dance partner.

Our eyes met. He wastes no time in taking in my piercing, hair and ragged appearance. I waste no time in scowling. If Caroline hadn't been watching us with a shrewd eye, I would have given him the finger.

"Hey Dyl," Gabriel grins. He even had the audacity to nudge his shoulder against my playfully. "Didn't get to catch up Friday night."

He looked so much like Arthur that I look back down and continue rolling out her wrists. His dark hair, strong jawline and height were nearly identical to his older brother. Gabriel was younger by only a year but smart enough to have skipped a grade meaning that Arthur and Gabriel had begun college together. 

Only his eyes were a lighter shade of blue. Once upon a time, I had been nearly as inseparable with Gabriel as I had with Arthur. Dance bonded us both. He was my best friend. 

"Hey," I hate how quiet my voice had become. The shame was sinking into my skin that he was seeing how low I had sunk in his eyes. "Welcome home."

God, it was hard to sound genuine.

"Right guys, up and in formation. Same places as last year, until we assign new groupings." Caroline calls and my stomach roils in relief.

It was how it always had been with dance. Dancing numbed every pain I ever had and exaggerated each of my victories.

Except this was the first day of training of the new college year and that meant only one thing; conditioning for an hour and a half. And I was rusty. I hadn't practiced as much as I vowed to over the summer. It hadn't quite slot into my schedule of Damien-time and sleeping.

When we were on our third round of burpees and I was wheezing like I had pneumonia, Gabriel was looking at me and grinning at the humor of the situation.

"Little out of practice, partner?" He smirks, with only the barest amount of sweat on his brow. Somehow, he still looked like entirely sculpted from golden clay. "Let yourself go a bit, really. No excuse for that."

This time, I really did flip him off, halting mid burpee.

"Dylan!" Caroline called from the front. I roll my eyes, already grabbing my bag and stuffing my sweatshirt over my head.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I snap to Caroline, kicking over my yoga mat. "I got it. I'll sort my attitude."

The session was nearly over anyway. It was better to leave now rather than stay and risk getting kicked off the team. No matter how bad things had gotten, I  needed to dance. It was all I have left. Even if that meant sharing space with a Heaver. 

Gabriel gapes at me as I smash my way through the gym's double doors.

Sunlight bursts across my vision as I tug my headphones from my pocket, still full of fuming anger and aching muscles.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I curse as my knotted headphones fall and I trip over my ripped shoelace.

"Dyl, you okay?" A voice calls from the curb.

Only one voice in the world says my name like that.

I look up and see Arthur standing outside of his car, leaning against the hood. He wasn't leather jacket-wearing kind of badass. Instead, he wore a beanie and his old favorite denim jacket, soft and worn. I still remember what it felt like to wear.

I watched him look me up and down, a frown of concern flitting across my face. 

But it didn't matter how I looked. All of the changes in me and the fact that he saw me going to a bedroom with another guy Friday night and he still looked at me like I was me. Just Dylan.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding at ferocious speed. Christ, are my eyes watering?

The door clangs open behind me.

"Dyl, I'm sorry about the comment, it was dumb and I didn't mean it," Gabriel calls.

Arthur looked between us in confusion, pushing away from the car.

I can't deal with this. I just fucking can't. My phone beeps with Damien's ring tone. I close my eyes briefly. Shit.

In answer to the two of them, I put in headphones in and start walking.

But that didn't drown out Arthur's voice, calling after me a little unsurely.

"See you in class?"

A/N: Hey guys,

I know this chapter is a little rough (my life is a little rough at the moment lol), so I wrote it quickly and will come back to edit it! As always, I don't own the photo. I am just a huge fan of 10 Things I Hate About You! Jen x