Hustle (Sample and Bonus Chapters)

4: Truth

I move around the small dorm room as silent as possible, but the drawers scrape and echo as I slide them open.

Roses light snoring is muffled with her head face down on her pillow, but it continues, unaffected by the noise. She had stumbled in a few hours ago, returning from the bar she left to with TJ and a few others from the house. She'd invited me to meet them there, after I texted her that I left Andrews. But I didn't go.

I sigh just thinking about Andrew, as I slide sweats on over my leotard for my 9:30 am intro to dance class. A freshman mistake I've realized. I needed an art credit, but overestimated my ability to dance and then I find out there's a required performance. But that can't possibly be anymore embarrassing than what I've already done.

Andrew. I can't get him out of my head. And I can't figure out why. I should write him off as a jerk, except I don't want to. Just thinking about him is exciting. My heart kicks up, butterflies explode in my stomach, all that crazy stuff I've only read about in books- Just the thought of him does that.

Plus, he stopped when I said to, he didn't push anything, not the smoking, not the touching, nothing. I couldn't find fault with him because it's not his fault I'm socially inept and inexperienced.

I glance back at Rose one last time, debating if I should wake her, but her first class isn't till noon. I'll come back after my dance class.

***

I'm texting with my mom as I walk into the studio in the basement of one of the older buildings on campus. She's always texting, but it's better than always calling. I somehow managed to get her promise to limit those to every other day- and so far so good, but it's only been a few weeks since I left home.

The doors open, so I stroll in, sipping my iced coffee and debating how to reply to my mom's request to drop off supplies she picked up for my dorm room. Boundaries, I'm working on them, so I begin to type out that I'll come home for lunch on Saturday- just like I did last Saturday. How do I keep this from being a thing?

I glance up when the PA's quiet voice pulled tight with tension reaches me, and I nearly choke on my coffee. His back is to me, but the slight curl to his dark hair and broad shoulders is unmistakable, Andrew is standing there in front of her.

"Fine, just go, but we're not done talking about this." The flawless brunette orders low with her arms crossed.

Whatever he says back makes her scoff, and he turns to walk out with an annoyed expression etched on his face.

I step to the side as he leaves, and when his eyes land on me I raise my hand with a slight wave. But his gaze only flicks over me, and he ignores my greeting, never breaking his stride as he exits.

Whatever that was, it was intense, and it still lingers in the air. I hesitate with my bag on my arm, unsure if I should leave and give the flustered girl a moment alone or stay like I saw nothing.

"Brooklyn." She makes the decision for me and smiles a big smile, with perfect white teeth showing, as she steps forward. "I'm glad you're early. Can you help me set up the Barres for today's class? Victoria- I mean Mrs. Blanc- won't be in today, so it's just me."

"Sure." I drop my bag in the corner of the room and follow her lead to pull out the ballet barres and line them in rows.

She moves with ease and grace, her long limbs are slim and defined, her cheekbones high, and hair smooth in a bun, the perfect image of a ballerina. And I know she doesn't mean to, but I feel short, squat, and clumsy just standing next to her.

I'd admired her since I started the class, and she only impressed me more with her patience for instructing, but now an unwanted jealousy takes root in my gut.