Page 67 of Falling With a Spin

I really do need to get out of here and do something other than sit on my couch in my self-pity. “Yeah, I would like that.”

“Okay, get your ass up from that couch and into your room.” She points at me, then drags it to the door of my bedroom. “Also, please shower too.” She scrunches up her nose, and I flip her off before walking into my room.

Thoughts of what Hunter did creep their way in as I get ready. Hunter thinks I’m giving up when I clearly am not doing that. Right? What hurts the most is that he didn’t listen to my wants. That's how my relationship with Chad was. Decisions were being made for me on how to act, dress, do my makeup, and what to eat. I was a doll to him when I should have been his girlfriend. When Hunter brought me to the studio, showing me around after I told him that I wasn’t sure if I could come back here, it brought me right back to those dark memories with Chad.

I’m not with Chad anymore, and he’s still somehow ruining my life.

I throw myself onto the bed, letting a muffled scream leave me, and I can only hope that Taylor can’t hear it.

Rolling onto my back, I look around my room at the posters on the wall. Each dancer is presented in a different position, with the spotlight solely on them. A pang goes through my chest as my gaze moves to the closet door. Stuffed high up to where I can’t reach, is my old dance bag. I’m not sure why I even brought it with me to Crestview, but it holds memories that I can’t seem to let go of.

I get up from the bed and attempt a single pirouette. Alright, that wasn’t too bad, I thought to myself. It’s pathetic, though. Anyone can do that. My gaze latches back onto the bag once again. “Taylor, can you come here for a second,” I call for my best friend.

She comes running in with half her hair up, the bottom half in loose curls.

“What's up?” She gives me a questioning look as I walk over to the closet door.

“I need you to get something down for me. I can’t seem to reach it with my short ass height.” I grunt, opening the door, and she follows me. “It’s right up there.” I point to the baby pink duffle bag with black straps.

She reaches for the bag, brings it down, and hands it to me with a wide smile on her face. “You’re going to the studio later today, aren’t you?”

I stay quiet for a few minutes as we stand in my closet. The bag that holds all my dreams and wants in my hand feels heavier than it usually does. When I got home from that day with Hunter, I explained everything to Taylor, and all she did was listen. Didn’t try to give me advice or tell me that what Hunter did was sweet and caring. She just sat there and listened to me as the tears spilled down my cheeks.

I walk past her and out of the closet, placing the bag on the bed, “I think I'm going to try.” I whisper, more to myself than to her.

She places her hand on my shoulder, and I look up at her, “What Hunter did was sweet and caring. Did the way he went about it was smart? No, not at all. But guys aren’t always that smart.” She rolls her eyes, and a laugh breaks from me. “But, Emma, ever since you two have been hanging out or doing whatever it is you two do, you’ve been happier, and a genuine smile has been on your face. I love that version of my best friend because it means she’s happy.”

She’s right. I have felt happier since we’ve been together.

“What hurts the most through it all is that it felt like a decision was being made for me. That when I told Hunter about my dancing, it went through one ear and out the other.” My gaze dips down to the strap, and I brush over my name that's embroidered into it. “I told him I just need some time to think about it.”

“That's understandable, but know that sooner or later, you will have to talk to him. Don’t let this fester inside you just because one person hurt you. Don’t run away from something that’s good for you.” She says quietly and takes the bag from me, setting it on the ground. “Now get dressed, and let's get out of here to have some fun!” She walks out of my bedroom and I'm left there, looking at my dance bag.

Stepping out of my car, I tighten my grip on the handle of the bag that I'm currently carrying. I don’t know how many times I tried to talk myself out of coming here. I’m pretty sure I turned around at least three times before pulling into a parking spot. Looking up at the building in front of me, Callie’s Dance Studio is shown in bold black letters. The double front doors are made of glass, and dark-tinted windows wrap around the building, making sure no one can look inside.

As I stand here in my black leggings and long black sleeve shirt, trying to get my legs to move forward, I see girls coming in and out of the building in leotards and pink tutus. Their hair is up in perfect buns, ballet slippers are on, and wide smiles are shown on their face. A small part of my heart breaks as I watch them be so carefree and happy, being able to walk in there without a care in the world.

Letting out a deep breath, I open the door with shaky hands. I look around to see little ballerinas running all around, moms chasing after them to put on their slippers or tutu. A few older girls walk fast down a hallway and disappear into rooms.

I walk towards the receptionist desk and see a girl around my age with her dark brown hair that's pulled back in a tight bun and dark rimmed glasses that fill her face. Her brows furrow in confusion as she shuffles through the paper on the desk, mumbling something I quite can’t catch. I tap lightly on the desk to grab her attention and her head snaps up, eyes go wide when she sees me standing there.

“Oh my goodness, you snuck in on me, darling. I didn’t see you there.” She has a slight country drawl.

“Sorry about that,” I adjust the strap on my shoulder, and my cheeks flush red. “I was wondering if there was an empty room available to use today.”

“What’s your name, darling?” She asks, pushing her glasses up.

“Emma.” My voice is quiet, and she quickly types it into the computer.

“Ah, I got you right here. It shows that Mr. Hunter Beckett paid for a few classes and a room for yourself for-” she leans in close, eyes going wide. “-a whole year.” She whispers the last part

The color from my face drains. Hunter did not just do that, paying for the whole year. Is he crazy? “A-are y-y-you sure it's’ for the w-whole year?” I barely get the words out.

“Yup, it sure is.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “You are one lucky friend and we do have one room left today. I can have someone show you to it.” Before I can get a word in, she is already out of her chair and disappearing into a room

Sighing, I turn around and notice the studio has pink-painted walls with an accent wall that's black where the receptionist at. Across from the receptionist is a wall filled with awards, trophies, and medals. Next to a few of the rewards are group pictures of the Company team with the year at the bottom from each competition they have attended. I walk over to the pictures hanging on the wal,l admiring each one. There are a couple of years where it’s the same girls, and later on, new girls enter, replacing the previous dancers. Each dancer has a wide grin on their face as the instructor holds the trophy. In a few photos you can see where the instructor is smiling down at the team with pure joy and pride on her face.

“She is right over here.” The receptionist's voice echoes in the room, and I turn around, seeing her walk out with another girl who can’t be more than a few years younger than me. She has black hair pulled into a low bun and striking blue eyes.

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