“Yeah,” he whispers.
I nod and refocus on him. His face says it all—he likes her—but he has my back. He’s worried about me.
“It’s okay. You can like her.” I force out a chuckle. We both know it’s fake, but neither of us says anything more.
“You wanna dance?” he asks, diverting my attention.
I grin and nod my head. “Yeah, okay, what track?”
“Clean Bandit, ‘Rockabye,’” he answers and strides over to the stereo. I stand and move in front of the mirrors, stretching my arms and bending at the waist, allowing my spine to elongate. I feel his hand on my back. “You ready?” he asks. Pulling myself back up and turning to face him, I let my head drop back a little. Tobias is as tall as Isaac, and he looks eerily similar. There is only a year between them, with Isaac that little bit older. I often find myself doing a double take when I glance at Toby.
“Yeah.” I smile, and he pulls me against him, wrapping the bunched muscles in his arms around my head until my nose is smushed against his chest.
“It will be all right,” he informs me. Then, without warning, he lets me go, presses a button on the remote I didn’t see in his hand, and slides it across the floor as the first few notes of the song start.
Toby and I have danced together for years, much like I used to with Isaac. However, with Toby, it’s all about the dancing, but with Isaac, the chemistry often led our movements.
We fuse contemporary and street dance together. The hours fall away as song after song plays, and we move until we’re both too sweaty and tired to continue. Propping ourselves against the wall, we sit and breathe heavily as our chests try to keep up with our panting. We’re both exhausted, but smiling.
“I got a call back to be a dancer on the X-Factor,” Toby tells me. I whip my head around and see he’s wincing. He’s worried about hurting my feelings.
“That’s… that’s amazing,” I murmur, placing my hand on his shoulder, letting him know it’s okay.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I was just…”
“I get it. Honestly, I do. You never have to worry about me being upset, you deserve it, you’re an amazing dancer,” I comfort.
“So are you,” he whispers. I smile wistfully and lean forward kissing his cheek.
“Love you, Tobias.”
“Love you too, Olivia.”
We grin at each other, but there’s a tinge of sadness in both of us.
“I love him, Liv, and I know you do too, but I don’t know if he’ll ever truly come back to us. He’s been gone for so long… and I don’t mean physically.”
Shaking my head, I blow the few strands of sticky hair stuck to my forehead. “It’s okay, time to move on,” I lie.
“Here.”
“What’s that?” I poke at the weird looking fabric creation in Helena’s hands.
“It’s a voodoo doll. The way I see it, this shit is long overdue. Here.” She pushes the creepy as fuck thing toward me. I pick it up by its hair? At least I think it’s supposed to be hair.
“It has no eyes,” I whisper.
Helena shrugs. “I asked Harry to make me one the other day.”
“Harry!” I shout jumping out of my chair. “Please tell me you know another Harry, and it’s not our creepy pervert of a neighbour you’re referring to, Hel. Tell me!” I snap.
She looks up at the ceiling innocently and bites down on her bottom lip.
“Fuck me up the arse with a badger. What have you done? He’ll never leave us alone now,” I groan sitting back down.
“At least now you can name it Isaac and stab it with pins. I suggest extra-large pins up his arse crack.”
“It has an arse crack?” I question both stunned and queasy at the thought.
“Yep, it also has a peen,” she confirms with a wink.
“Fucking hell, what has my life become?” I mumble to myself.
“Hey, I was trying to do something nice,” Helena grumbles folding her arms and turning her head away from me.
“I’m going to work,” I say throwing the scary, doll-monster on the kitchen table and leaving it with Helena.
“Hey Allegro,” I holler across the empty club as Dennis, one of the bouncers, lets me in.
“Hey girl, you good to go tonight?”
“Always,” I shout back before turning the corner and making my way into the changing rooms.
Rolling my shoulders back, I put my iPod on and Coldplay’s ‘Hymn for the Weekend’ starts playing. I close my eyes and enjoy the quiet, unable to stop myself from singing along as I stand and dance around the empty changing room. As the song dies away and Adele’s ‘Send my Love (To Your New Lover)’ kicks in. I sigh and turn.
“Wow, you’re wasted here,” Allegro tells me offering a slow clap.
“Thank you, but no one else wants me, honey. Too many of these.” I point to the tats on my arm.
“Well, then, they’re damn fools. I didn’t know you could sing,” she muses rubbing her chin.
“Do not even think about it, this is not Moulin Rouge, and I am not getting on stage to lay on a piano and sing.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I’m not sure our customers would appreciate that anyway, they’re not the classiest bunch.”
I snort. “Don’t tell them that.”
“Like they don’t already know what they are,” she scoffs.
“True. So what do you want me to do tonight?” I ask.
“Hmmm, I have a new outfit for you.”
“You do?” I ask confused. We normally have to pick up our own clothes.
“Yeah, I was out the other day and
