Page 2 of Shattered Rhythm

I nod, feeling embarrassed for just assuming. “Oh, sorry about that. I’m still getting used to everything around here.”

“It’s all right,” he says, still smiling and walking me and my box to the elevator. “Moving can be overwhelming. Do you need any help with the rest of your things?”

I shake my head, feeling grateful but also not wanting to engage any longer. “No, I think I’ve got it from here, but thanks again.” I take my box back from him at the elevator.

“Of course,” he says, nodding. “If you need anything, just ask. I live on the fourth floor, apartment 402.”

“Oh, so we’re next-door neighbors. Mine is 404.”

He just smiles and says, “See you around, Liv.”

“See you,” I reply, then let out a small sigh of relief when the doors of the elevator close.

* * *

I finally finish installing the espresso machine. Maybe I should have just settled for one of those capsule machines, but my mom always used to say that there’s no good day without good coffee, and she hated the automatic machines that were in everyone’s homes. We only ever had espresso machines, so I had to learn how to use them if I wanted coffee, and like my mom, coffee is the foundation of my nutrition pyramid. The rest of what I bought filled up my small apartment, but I’m too exhausted to unpack everything, so I just put away the groceries before I grab what I need for the bathroom and take a long shower.

“So much for getting everything ready in a day,” I mutter to myself, but who was I kidding? You can’t just change your whole life in the blink of an eye. I need to stop beating myself up. It will take time, but it’ll be good in the end. I should be proud of how far I’ve come already, but then days like this happen, where it’s too much and exhausting, and I’m struggling again. I feel myself going down the slippery slope of self-pity and grief, so I force myself to shake off the negative thoughts and focus on the positive. I have my own place now, somewhere nobody knows me or my story, giving me a fresh start and a chance to pursue my dreams at a prestigious university. It’s a new chapter in my life, and I need to take it one step at a time.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I can do this. I finish my shower and change into fresh clothes, feeling a little better already. I crawl into bed, feeling grateful for the comfort of my new cushions. As I drift off to sleep, I remind myself that tomorrow is a new day and I’ll be ready for it.

CHAPTERTHREE

Liv

Today began with me standing in front of the building where my classes would be held—the Dorothy F. Schmidt Arts and Humanities building at FAU. The campus was swarming with students, and I grew increasingly anxious and nervous. I’ve never been good with crowds or unfamiliar situations, which is ironic given my former job, but I took a deep breath and reminded myself that this was the plan and I needed to do this. Everything would be okay, but I had to take the leap if I wanted to soar.

Now, after my two classes are over, which were fantastic, I’m feeling so happy about how my day turned out. Dance history can be dry, but I still found it interesting, but choreography was everything and solidified my decision to pursue this path in my new life.

As Liam’s dance partner, I was always responsible for choreographing our routines. He is an exceptional dancer, but not so keen on connecting the music to his moves. Liam loved the fame, so he was the one to handle interviews, press, and fans, making everyone adore him. I was just there by his side, along for the ride. What I excelled at was everything behind the scenes - choreography, filming and editing our videos, all the marketing stuff, and planning our shows and performances. Unfortunately, as our career progressed, Liam became increasingly controlling and took over everything, including booking shows. At the end of it all, I was reduced to just creating the choreography and filming and editing the videos.Still, that’s what makes me love the class even more. Choreographing has always been a safe haven for me, and now it’s an opportunity to reclaim what I love and make it my own.

As I walk across campus to get to my car, I can’t help but smile. I am at college, and there are palm trees all over.Toronto could never compete.

To treat myself for my first good day, I want to check out a nearby café and get myself an iced caramel latte. The one I found online is just outside campus, and I loved the vibes of the pictures. It has live music playing in the afternoons and is locally owned. I checked the menu online beforehand, and it promises my favorite ice cold drink and some avocado egg sandwiches, which will be the first thing I eat today. This morning, I was too nervous to eat, and after that, it was just too hot. It’s late August but still so warm, and I just wasn’t prepared for it. I need to get some lighter clothes. Maybe I should go clothes shopping on Friday.

I walk into the café and it’s not packed, but there’s a lot going on. I get to the register and place my order with a smile. The elderly woman behind the register smiles back and asks me if I want to eat here or take it with me. I eye the maybe ten tables again.

Everywhere, there are patrons sitting, studying, or talking to each other, but in the corner of the room is the live musician for today, and his singing is so damn good. I want to listen to him for a while, so I take a chance and tell her that I will be staying. I pay and carry my plate and glass over to the mini stage. In front of it is a table for maybe four people, but only one guy is sitting there with his laptop open.

“I’m sorry, would you mind if I sit here?” I ask, standing on the opposite side of the table.

He looks up from his laptop, and his eyes are the bluest blue I have ever seen and so light, like the sky on a beautiful summer day. He looks about my age, or maybe a little older. The right side of his mouth moves just a tiny bit upwards.Is that a yes in hot guy language?

“Thanks,” I tell him, sitting down to eat my treat. He looks back to his laptop, but I feel his eyes on me as soon as I turn myself to look at the singer, whois already looking at me with the exact same sky blue eyes that I just gazed into. Not just the eyes match, though. They’re obviously twins. They both have dark brown hair, short on the sides and longer on top, but laptop guy’s is neatly styled, whereas guitar boy’s is a tousled mess. Their starry blue eyes are framed with thick lashes I’m envious of, and they have a chiseled jawline and full lips.Let’s just say they are really handsome.

They’re also built like they work out a lot and are at least six feet tall. Laptop guy’s style is more casual, as he’s wearing dark jeans and a gray shirt with bunched up sleeves. Guitar boy, on the other hand, is something else. His left arm and throat are tattooed, and he’s adorned with thick silver necklaces and more silver rings on his fingers than I have in my jewelry box. He’s dressed in black jeans with a black belt and a black shirt, and he has a silver lip ring. He’s singing “Wonderwall” by Oasis, the most covered song there is, but in his raspy voice, it’s something special and brings goose bumps to my arms. I could listen to him all day.

After finishing my sandwich and enjoying the music for a while, it’s time for me to leave, since my furniture will be delivered soon.I drop a twenty-dollar bill into the guitar case in front of the musician, which is only holding coins, then smile at him and mouth, “You’re so good!”

He looks at me intently while he continues to sing, then shakes his head in disbelief.

Turning to laptop guy, I bid him goodbye and say, “It was nice talking to you.”

He chokes on air but then chuckles. “Yeah, great conversation,” he replies, and I grin.

I return my plate to the register, and the lady quietly thanks me while cashing out another customer. With a sense of satisfaction, I exit the café and make my way back to my car, prepared to assemble my desk and unpack the rest of the items I purchased the day before. Although I’m exhausted and yearning for a break, I know that idleness is a recipe for overthinking and spiraling, so I need to keep myself occupied.

* * *

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