Last night hanging with the girls was better than I expected. We ate, we laughed at crap rom com movies that we have seen and laughed at before, but somehow, together we laughed that bit harder. I felt like the old me a little; in the minuscule happy spaces in between the sad thoughts that kept creeping in and eating a sizeable hole inside me.
Last night it had come to me that I don't feel upset over the guilt of being with him. No. I wasn't aware of his relationship. That's not on me. That's all him.
No. What I'm actually sick over is the still ever present urge to want to see him. Kiss him. Maybe still even be with him. It's the attraction. Even knowing about Cara. I still want him. Entertaining the idiotic and naive idea adopted by all moronic mistresses world wide; maybe he would choose me?
What a fucking tool I am. A bloody moron.
That train of thought alone makes me feel ill and about as low as a fucking gal can feel. Thank god we have training to throw ourselves into today or I would have a serious risk of getting myself into something much more tangled than this web of shit already is.
I have been up and ready to leave for hours, but as I wait now for Candice outside the cafe, I feel the teasing tingles of possibility sinking through my skin like poison rain. Tiny little prickles of anticipation and even hope, that maybe I will see him.
Sick. I'm such a sick sucker and I hate it. I swear I have more balls than this but I can't seem to find them. They must be tucked up stairs in the draw with my phone, the idea of retrieving and using both scare me on equal measure.
As the elevator dings, my head pops up and I immediately release a breath as I see the golden hair of Candice's perfect pony tail swinging towards me. Her poms in hand and her bag on her back, she is the perfect sunshine filled person to be around today.
That, and she takes absolutely no shit from anyone and I need that more than her perky personality at this present moment.
"Good morning UCLA!" She yells into her Pom doubling as a microphone as we make our way out of the cafe, coffees in hands and ready to take on our first official training session.
We have been studying tapes of routines and I hope I am able to keep up with choreography today.
The saying "Dance away your troubles" absolutely applies today and I intend to do just that.
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After a vigorous two hours in the gym blocking choreography, Candice and I are looking and feeling much less pep in the step but I feel like I literally danced out the drama. Danced it right out with the sweat still pouring out of all my pores.
"Feel like a coffee at that place I told you about?" I ask Candice who is completely red in the face and covered in a sheen of sweat.
"Yeah, but give me like, an hour to shower a few hundred times and drink a gallon of water first ok?" She whines and picks up her bag.
"Of course my little sweat Barbie." I tease and slap her on the ass, regretting it the second I pull my hand back, damp from her soaked cheeks.
" Jesus Candice, do you just pour sweat from every hole?" I ask, wiping my hand on her towel and faking a gag.
"Yes. I do." She says wagging her brows and then as I grimace she says; "Oh Shut up Ellis. Not everyone starts and finishes training looking like a bloody supermodel." With that, she sticks her tongue out at me and we both laugh together.
"Come on, let's get you to the shower and then I'll buy you a giant brownie to cheer you up ok?" I add, directing her towards our dorm.
As we walk I silently regroup, thinking briefly about Bayne before I try to redirect my thoughts and look up at our dorm coming into view.
YOU ARE READING
How to choose the one
ChickLitHow are you supposed to be able to choose the one? Or is it even actually a choice? When she moved across the world to attend her dream college, Ellis expected a world of change. She planned for the work load, new experiences and pushing herself b...
