River
Finally, Ryder finishes his gig at the café and starts packing up his gear. I impulsively offer to help, something I never do, but I’m eager to leave and discuss what just happened earlier. Even though it wasn’t much, I still want to talk about it.
“What, are you channeling your inner roadie?” Ryder jokes with a grin.
“Shut up, Ry, and get a move on it. I want to get out of here,” I reply, trying to hide my smile. He gives me a mock frown but hurries to finish packing.
We exit the café and make our way to Ryder’s 1970 Dodge Challenger. The car is black and looks cool, but it’s rusty and needs a lot of work. Ryder always insists on doing it himself, but he doesn’t have the skills or patience. We’ll see how long it takes until the car finally breaks down, and we have to take it to a garage.I love my twin, but sometimes, he needs a reality check.
Ryder places his guitar on the backseat, and we both get in. With his hands on the steering wheel, he turns to me and asks, “What?”
“Don’t what me, Ry. You know what. Do you know her?” I ask him.
“Oh, look at that, someone finally got under your skin,” he responds, laughing.
“She’s not under my skin. She was just funny and looked at you like you hung the moon. Do you know her?” I ask again.
“No, I clearly don’t know her, or you would know about it. It’s not as if I could hide anything from you, and not something like that,” he says. “I so loved how she called you out on not talking to her the whole time, though.” Ryder grins.
“She was there to listen to you and eat her sandwich. It didn’t feel right to just bother her. Looking like she does, she probably has guys hitting on her left and right. I just didn’t want to come across like a creep.” I sigh.
“Sure, because you’re known to be such a social butterfly and chat with people who sit next to you all the time otherwise,” he teases.
I run my hand through my hair.
“Well, maybe you should try talking to her next time you see her,” Ryder says, smirking.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen. We don’t even know her name or anything else about her. Where would we see her again?”
“It’s the first day of fall semester. She’s probably going to FAU. Maybe we’ll run into her on campus or at the café,” Ryder suggests.
“Looks like I’m going to come and listen to you sing more often now,” I tease him with a smile.
Ryder just shrugs his shoulders and starts the engine of his car. “At least you’ll be leaving the house more often,” he says, and I punch him in the shoulder.
“Dick.”
Ryder just laughs as we drive off.
CHAPTERFOUR
Liv
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I have performance and modern dance technique classes, and it quickly becomes clear that I wouldn’t be able to make it through these classes without actually dancing. The major is geared towards those who want to become choreographers and teachers, but sometimes, we are required to perform our own choreography as part of an assignment. So I need to push past my mental barriers and get back on the dance floor again.
It wasn’t my shattered knee that held me back the most, since I could dance through the pain. It was the mental block. I haven’t danced since everything happened, since I couldn’t bring myself to do it, but this is a new beginning and dance is going to be a major part of it. I need to get over it quickly.
After class, I make my way to a fitness studio by the beach and park beside a black classic car in the parking lot, then approach the sliding doors conveniently located right in front. The studio is spacious and modern, with the name Tanner Fitness displayed in bold lettering. It has the best reviews online, which is one of the reasons why I’m standing here now. This twenty-four seven gym offers a weight section, a boxing section, and a dance studio. The founder, Jaxon Tanner, is apparently an ex-MMA fighter and was a great one at that, according to the reviews. Now retired, he has opened this studio, which is the only one close to my apartment and college that has a dance studio, and while there are other studios for dancing only, you have to enroll in courses to use the space. I just need a dance floor with a lot of availability so I can dance by myself for an hour or two every other day.
As I walk in, I’m greeted by a stunning and well-lit reception area. There’s a girl about my age, with a cool silver pixie cut and a nose piercing, who looks up from the magazine she’s reading. Our eyes meet, and I see her surprise as her eyes widen, the same kind of reaction our viewers often had before asking for a picture.God damn.But she surprises me, instead of the expected fangirling, her face transforms into a playful, flirty grin.
“Welcome to Tanner Fitness, how can I help you?” she asks in a deeper voice than I anticipated.
I take a deep breath, calming myself down. “Hi, I was wondering if you could tell me more about your dance studio,” I say.
She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah, sure. Do you want to take some of our classes? We mostly offer hip-hop and break dancing, though,” she replies, looking me up and down skeptically, as if she doesn’t believe I could be a break-dancer in disguise.
I laugh. “No thank you. I read online that it’s also open for anyone else to use?”