Did you ever leave?

8

'The fuck is this?'

My wide-eyed stare darted from his red face to the mess he'd made. 'You broke my door,' I quietly pondered.

'Milo.'

'You just...you just fucking cracked it.'

'Milo.'

That's...really hot.

He splayed out his hand, gesturing to the barricade that was now toppled on my floor.

'I...I needed some time alone.'

'When you need some time alone you chill in your room. You don't shove every piece of furniture you own in front of your door to lock yourself in.'

He stood, winded, waiting on some sort of an explanation. But there wasn't one to give.

'Why are you here?'

'Eden called. She said that I was the only one that could get through to you. I didn't think that I'd need to physically do so as well as mentally.'

'I didn't think you were that strong,' I mumbled.

'I'd break down twenty doors if I knew it'd get me to you.'

'That's nice of you, but I'm leaving.'

'Are y- what?'

I stood and dusted myself off before taking off my T-shirt and turning to my wall. I put on a sports bra in place of my normal one and swapped my jeans with mint running shorts.

'I'm going for a run,' I said, putting on my trainers. 'I'm sick of this.'

'Sick of what?'

'Your brother!'

He widened his eyes and put his hands on his hips. 'You mean the guy you just left off the side of the I-605?'

'I can't fucking escape him, Ethan. I need to train with him five days a week, avoid him when he and Eden get up to their freaky shit in here, and now he's volunteering at my job? He wasn't even working, he was just snapping and meeting with fans and-'

'Why haven't you quit, yet?' he interrupted.

'I can't quit the show-'

'Not the show, the cleanup.'

I put my foot back onto the floor, finished tying the laces. 'I need the security.'

Ethan sat down next to me on my bed. 'No. You don't. DWTS must be paying you a fortune.'

'And what about when that's over? I don't know how long I'll last before they fire me for my lack of chemistry with Grayson, never mind being picked up for a second season. What will I do, then? The money is good, but it'll eventually run out.'

'I'll fix things with Grayson; you'll be cast next season, I swear. And I'm coming with you on your run.'

I tittered, softly. 'Since when do you run?'

'I'm a great runner, thanks. I bet I'm better than you.'

'We'll see.'

~•~

I ran in and threw my bag into the corner. 'Sorry I'm late. Class ran late.'

He stood from the chair he'd been sitting on and put his phone down.

'Did you study the videos I sent you?' I asked.

'I was a little busy over the weekend, Miss Carter,' he sneered.

I took off my ballet shoes and put on my silver heels.

'Are we not going to talk about it?'

'I don't really know what to tell you. I wasn't willing to stay in the car with you. Was it the best idea to leave you on the freeway? No. Was it the only one I had? Yeah.'

'You're such a bitch.'

I shrugged. 'Shit happens.'

'I can't believe you right now,' he said, coming closer and jabbing his finger in my direction.

'We said we'd leave our drama at the door, okay? This is rehearsal time. So, get into position or leave.'

He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. 'What are you wearing?'

'Mondays and Thursdays are ballet and I didn't have time to change,' I said, looking down at my black leotard and opaque tights. 'I didn't think the uniform was that bad.'

'It's not.'

'Then, what's the issue, Grayson?'

'Never mind, can we just get started?'

I brought up the video I'd wanted him to near-memorise since he evidently hadn't even looked at it.

Dick.

~•~

•Grayson•

I swung the door closed.

'Woah, Petunia. What's your issue? Is it that time of the month?'

'Shut up, Ethan.'

'Awww, someone's all riled up.' He paid no mind to me and kept watching the tv with his feet crossed on the coffee table.

I stood over him and crossed my arms. 'I can't fucking stand working with her. She gives me all these instructions and we haven't even properly danced together, yet. Who's to say she's even a real dancer?'

Ethan paused the movie he'd been watching and finally gave me some proper attention. 'Dude.'

'What?'

'Have you ever googled that woman?'

I frowned and flicked my hair.

I mean...

'Oh, Grayson. So much to learn.'

'What do you mean? Why would I have googled her?'

'I did once we got back from Vegas.'

'Well...well- I don't know.'

'Why don't you give it a try?' He stood, patted my cheek, and walked out of the room.

Google her? What good could that possibly do?

I whipped out my phone and typed her name into the search engine. A long line of articles popped up about her achievements and records. I clicked on the first YouTube link I saw and watched a video of her performing what they called an "interpretive solo" and fell into a bit of a hole, viewing dance after dance. I watched a fuzzy video of her dancing to "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" at three years old, I saw her do a group performance to "Bittersweet Symphony" when she was eight, I gaped as she performed a contemporary solo to "Elastic Heart" at thirteen and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen.

Something, or someone, kept coming up, though. I typed a new search into YouTube: Milo Carter and Anthony Blair. Video after video appeared showcasing their amazing abilities; they didn't stray too far from crazy contemporary acrobatic dances where they would both do hundreds of jumps and dives and Milo would leap onto his body and flip all over him. They did battle routines, romantic routines, angry fighting routines and just about anything else you could imagine.

I was in awe.

I'd never seen anything like it. She was so fucking good. I'd always questioned why she was a dancer and not a singer, and now it was right here for me to see.

But why hadn't she ever mentioned this Anthony guy? They both had to have been the best dancing couple to ever grace the planet. Maybe they fell out.

I decided to google him to see if anything showed up, and what did was very surprising.

"Anthony Blair, 17, killed in fatal car crash."