“Clancy tells me you’re unwell,” Madame Tuillard says, cocking her head as I enter her studio a minute past eight am on Monday morning. She hates lateness, that was made perfectly clear last week. Clancy, being a really good friend, covered for me. I owe her one.
“Just a little under the weather. I’m good now,” I explain biting down the nausea I feel. Since my chat with Jeb, my altercation with York and serious lack of sustenance, I’ve genuinely been feeling sick all weekend. I texted my brother this morning explaining that I’d tried to call him, and ask that he call back, then promptly threw up, hence the lateness.
I’m really not looking forward to that one-sided conversation.
“Sit, I’m feeling generous this morning,” she responds with a wave of her hand.
Avoiding eye contact with Zayn and York who are both openly staring at me, I move towards the back of the studio to where Clancy’s sitting. She gives me a look and squeezes my hand when I sit down.
“You good?” she whispers.
“Thanks, Clancy,” I respond, avoiding her question. I’m not good. I’m far from good, but I put a lid on my emotions and give her a reassuring smile. “I ate something that disagreed with me, that’s all.” She frowns, but doesn’t press, knowing as well as I do that the scarce amount of food I actually have in my flat is about as likely to make me sick as drinking water would.
“So, ladies and gentlemen, you’ve settled in and met all your teachers, now it’s time for the hard work to begin,” Madame Tuillard says, cutting my conversation with Clancy short. As usual she’s perfectly turned out. Her slim figure is encased in a leotard and leggings ensemble with leg warmers and ballet slippers. For a forty-year old she’s pretty fit. “There has been some animosity between a few of you which I’d like to address now.” She looks between Clancy, Tiffany, and I, but interestingly also Zayn and York. “Over the next year you’ll all be spending a great deal of time with each other and whilst I don’t expect you to be friends, I do need you to at least be respectful of each other if this is going to work. There is no competition, only cohesion, when you’re in the studio together.”
“If what’s going to work?” Tiffany pipes up, her lascivious gaze sliding over to Zayn who is sitting nearest to her. I bite down on my lip, willing myself not to react.
“I haven’t just given you a flat here so that you can take advantage of the studio space outside of the school day. I do have an ulterior motive, one which will be beneficial to you all.”
“What’s that?” York questions. By the tone of his voice he’s as surprised as the rest of us.
“You’ve been chosen to headline an end of year dance production that will be televised before the great British public. It’s going to be quite spectacular.” Madame Tuillard smiles. “Over the coming months, I will be bringing in all the best teachers and choreographers from around the world. You were all picked for your abilities to shine in each of your specialisms… There will be a single, duo, trio, quartet, as well as a group dance with all of you as the finale.”
“What the fuck?” Zayn exclaims, cutting her off and earning a glare from York.
“Is there a problem?” Madam Tuillard asks, narrowing her eyes at them.
“None whatsoever.” York smiles. Madame Tuillard nods, turning her attention to Clancy who is grinning broadly.
“This is amazing, thank you!”
I chew on my cheek, zoning out for a moment as Madame Tuillard goes into more detail about the show and her ideas. Sophie, the girl who I know least, catches my gaze then leans over and whispers something in Tiffany’s ear. They both look at me with calculating gazes. Great, that’s all I need, another enemy. Tiffany has clearly aligned herself with the only other girl in this group. I look away, not in the mood. They’ve no idea about the inner turmoil I feel. Being at the same school as the Breakers is one thing, but dancing with two of the four again, quite another. Not to mention the potential repercussions from David.
“This is a huge deal for Stardom Academy, so I want your full commitment. They’ll be no slacking off. Understood?”
“Understood,” we respond.
A knock on the studio door interrupts Madame Tuillard. “Ah, perfect timing! Come on in.” The door to the studio opens and in walks Xeno followed by D-Neath and…
“Dax?” I whisper. He strolls into the room wearing tracksuit bottoms and a white, V-neck t-shirt that showcases his tattoos and sheer size.
“Whoa!” I hear Clancy say. We exchange looks and I’m pretty sure my shock is clearly scrawled across my face. Swallowing hard, I force my face into a neutral state.
Madame Tuillard greets D-Neath with a kiss on each cheek, nodding to Xeno and Dax before turning back to face us all. I feel Xeno’s gaze burning a hole in my face, but I refuse to look at him or Dax.
“Duncan and I decided that another dancer was required to even up the numbers and enable us to pair you off easier when it comes to the duets. I’d like you all to meet Dax.”
Clancy shuffles closer to me, her hand sliding over mine as she grips it.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“If you haven’t figured it out by now, Xeno will be overseeing the rehearsals,” D-Neath explains, pitching in. “We can trust him to make sure shit gets done.”
Xeno crosses his arms and jerks his chin in response. Our eyes meet, and I see a flash of challenge in them. This is bullshit. Utter bullshit.
“You eight are the best of the best. You are the dancers we’ve chosen to represent Stardom Academy in this show,” Madame Tuillard explains.
“But he isn’t even a student,” I blurt out, pointing at Dax.
Slowly his gaze meets mine. There’s zero emotion in them. None. “I was late enrolling. Shit to do,” he says, by way of explanation. Everyone seems to accept the bullshit, bar Clancy and me, though neither of us are stupid enough to question it further.
“Well, I’m sure glad you’re here,” Sophie, the one girl in this group I’ve not spoken to yet, says.
My head whips around to glare at her but she’s too busy ogling Dax to notice me murdering her with my gaze. She can fuck right off. A sense of ownership rips through me and I want to launch myself at her. He may not be mine anymore but that doesn’t mean to say I want him, or any of the Breakers, to be anyone else’s either.
“Okay, well. We’ll leave you in the capable hands of Xeno. Tuillard and I have work to be getting on with,” D-Neath says, wrapping his arm around Madame Tuillard’s back and escorting her from the room. We all know what kind of work he’s referring to.
The minute they’ve gone. Xeno strides to the centre of the room. “Up,” he demands.
We all climb to our feet, though I make sure that I’m the last one to stand. I’m not going to make this easy for him, the fucker. “I’m pairing you off first,” he continues, pointing to York then Clancy. “You two are our tap experts. Get acquainted.”
Clancy flicks her gaze at me, biting her lip. I give her a little nod of my head, telling her I’m okay with this, even when I’m not. She walks over to his side, and he grins down at her, giving her a smile that used to only be reserved for me. My stomach flips. He doesn’t acknowledge me, or the fact he was in my room half-naked the other night.
Xeno moves around us. I watch as he taps Tiffany’s shoulder, then River’s. Neither look happy to be paired up, but if this is going the way I think then it’s obvious they’ve been put together because they’re the ballet experts. Tiffany gives Xeno a death glare, and River blows out a breath. Poor guy.
“You’re my ballet duo,” Xeno confirms, leaving four of us.
Zayn looks as though he’s about to explode whereas Dax isn’t giving anything away. I already know how this is going to go. It’s obvious to me. Dax was the one who kissed me first, he was the one who stepped across the invisible barrier between me and the rest of the Breakers, the line that kept us securely in the friend zone. Even though I loved all of them, even though I kissed Zayn and York too, Dax has never really adhered to Xeno’s rules completely and because of that, he’ll pair me with Zayn.
“Sophie, you’re paired up with Zayn. Dax with Pen.”
“What?!” I splutter, unable to keep my surprise contained.
Zayn snatches his head around, glaring at Xeno who strides past all of us, gritting his jaw. Dax doesn’t even flinch, he doesn’t acknowledge my surprise or even glance my way. Clancy has her mouth wide open in shock. I just shake my head at her, begging her with my eyes not to make it obvious that there’s an issue even though I’ve just done exactly that with my little outburst.
“Zayn and Sophie are well matched in hip-hop. They have the same aggression and skill,” Xeno says, by way of explanation.
Sophie grins, her silky black hair falling over her shoulder as she moves towards Zayn. On the way past she winks at me and I almost reach out and slap the smile off her face. She smiles at Zayn who gives her a cursory glance then looks away, locking his jaw tight and folding his arms across his chest.
“Despite his size,” Xeno continues, “Dax is a talented contemporary dancer. He missed orientation week because he was otherwise engaged. I can assure you, you’re well suited.” Xeno flat out ignores the tension and begins flipping through his music list on his mobile. Hooking it up to the sound system, he turns to face us all, unbothered by the bomb he’s just detonated, but I’m not. My legs seem to move of their own accord as I stumble backwards.
I can’t dance with Dax.
I can’t be here in this place with any of them.
I can’t do this.
I’m a fool to ever think I could make something of myself.
I’m a stupid, naïve, fool.
“Find a spot in the studio and get acquainted with your partner. By the end of the session I expect you to have the basis of an idea down for the duets. Only one duet will be selected to showcase on the big night. So I suggest you make it good. You’ve got plenty of time to practice.”
“Fuck this,” I mutter.
Twisting on my feet, I head towards the studio door and yank it open, striding from the room. I can hear Tiffany’s cackle following me out. Bitch. Really, what the fuck is her problem?
“Pen!” Clancy calls from behind me, but I ignore both her and Xeno who tells her to get back into the dance studio.
“Let her run,” Xeno says, making a kind of scoffing noise as he shuts the door.
Pushing into the ladies changing room, I head immediately for one of the stools and empty my stomach of what’s left of my non-existent breakfast, yacking up bile and the bitter taste of coffee. Even though I really want to cry, I refuse to let the tears fall.
Why are they doing this to me? David will fly back here and will follow through on the threat he made all those years ago if he thinks I’m getting close to them again. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want them here. It doesn’t matter that they clearly don’t care for me anymore. David will see what he wants to see, and we’ll all be screwed. I don’t even think Jeb could stop David if he really wanted to hurt me or anyone else I love, for that matter.
Who am I trying to kid?
Jeb has no affection for me. He sent the Breakers here on some kind of fucked up gangster mission knowing the deal I made with him and my brother. I’m just another pawn in his game. Collateral fucking damage.
If the Breakers don’t leave me alone, then I’ll just have to be the one to walk away. Again.
No! I mentally berate myself.
Why should I be the one to turn my back on the future I’ve worked so hard for my whole damn life? They chose crime. They chose Jeb and the Skins over me. They started all of this. I might have turned my back on them that night but not for the reason they believe. They obviously didn’t think much of me if they bought into the lie and that, more than anything, hurts the most. They didn’t even try to find out why I did what I did.
They just walked.
Maybe all those years of friendship meant nothing after all, given it was so damn easy for them to let me go. It doesn’t matter now, we can never get back what we lost because the truth is, we were over long before that night. They broke my heart the second they became Jeb’s bitches, and the Breakers I knew became the Breakers for an entirely different reason.
“This is horseshit!” I shout, bashing my fist against the cubicle wall. I will not be forced out of Stardom Academy. I’ll just have to convince my brother of what I already know; that what I had with the Breakers is dead and buried. Gone.
“Pen…”
I stiffen as the door to my cubicle pushes open and Dax stands in the space, his huge frame making me feel claustrophobic all of a sudden. It’s not fair that he’s so beautiful in that deep, damaged kind of way. There’s still a huge part of me that longs for him and the way he always made me feel so protected. I push it aside. There’s no space for that in my heart anymore.
“Move!” I demand, not bothering to wait for him to step out of my way as I shove at his firm chest and squeeze between the slim gap he makes. I can’t be in a confined space with him and his muscles and that dark angel tattoo I see peeking out of the top of his vest, taunting me with past memories and promises we’d once whispered to each other in the alleyway behind Rocks nightclub when we were kids.
“Pen…” he starts again, and I cringe at the fact he doesn’t refer to me by the pet name I used to love even when I always pretended that it infuriated me. “…You need to get back to the studio.”
His voice is a low rumble that penetrates my skin and I hate myself for the way it makes me feel.
Hot. Needy. Sad. So fucking sad.
I turn on him, fury making me brave, my angry words punctuated with my finger jabbing at his chest. “You need to fuck off out of the academy, out of my life! You, Zayn, York, Xeno. Whatever bullshit you’re up to on Jeb’s behalf needs to fucking stop. I won’t let you all ruin what I’ve worked so hard for! I won’t!”
“We can’t do that, Pen,” he says.
“You can’t or you won’t, Dax? There’s a big fucking difference.”
He sighs and for the briefest of moments I see real, deep pain flicker in his gaze. “We won’t.”
“Well, fuck you. Fuck all of you,” I seethe.
“We didn’t start this, Pen.” If I’m not mistaken I can even hear the hurt in his voice, but it’s shoved down when his voice turns icy. “You need to get back into the studio. If you don’t Tuillard will replace you, so suck it up, Pen, because the Breakers ain’t going anywhere.”
“Didn’t start this? Don’t make me laugh. You did when you became Jeb’s minions, Dax. This is bullshit,” I repeat, waving my hand in the air in frustration.
“Maybe so, but your problems are no longer mine. Fucking deal with it,” Dax retorts angrily. He gives me one last lingering look before twisting on his feet and storming out of the bathroom, leaving me reeling.
