My Future Husband

Chapter 5

HOPE'S P.O.V

THREE DAYS EARLIER

“Oh come on, we finally have a night off, we have to go out!” I don’t know what she’s talking about, all Shaniqua ever wants to do is go out.

“I don’t have anything to wear,  everything’s packed!” I point around at my nearly empty apartment, with the ballet company going on hiatus for a few months, it didn’t make sense to stay in London and waste money on rent. It’s money I don’t have.

Dad wouldn’t have let me anyway, he’s wanted me back for two years now, not to mention the twins barely remember who I am anymore. Going home was my only option.

“Well then wear what you’re wearing, you look fine.” She continues to talk with her back to me, she knows I can’t hear her but she doesn’t give a shit. I love my ballet company, it’s been my dream since I was a little girl to be a professional ballerina, but I would never call any of them my friends.

None of them have tried to learn how to sign, most forget that to lip read I actually need to be able to see their faces, but I don’t care what they have to say anyway. They aren’t my people. I don’t have people.

Lets just say that sometimes... sometimes your dreams aren't all they’re cracked up to be.

I love to dance, that’s never going to change, but every time I get out on that stage to move to the limits of someone else's skill set, to someone else’s choreography, I feel it sucking my soul away slowly. Part of dance is being creative, but being in a company you don't get that luxury. We’re just tools for somebody else’s vision.

Honestly, I miss dancing just for the love of it.

“...and I already told this guy that I would bring you for his friend. He’s really cute, look.” She flashes a heavily edited photograph in front of my face. This is exactly why I don’t have social media, nothing you see on it is real. “They’re meeting us in ten minutes, so fucking move.”

“Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice!” I roll my eyes but I learnt a year ago that there’s no point in arguing with her. She’s a spoilt rich girl from the most wealthy part of Paris, she's used to having daddy buy her everything and getting her own way. Everyone in her life is just another commodity to her, me included.

She actually wanted us to live together a few months ago, but like fuck was that happening. My apartment is the size of a shoe box but I don’t care, all I want at the moment is my own space.

That’s actually all I’ve wanted for a long time, I’m not great with being around people anymore.

People just let you down. People just hurt you.

“Good, now hurry up! And do something with your hair, it looks awful!” Charming.

I don’t know how I’m going to cope back in Westbrooke, having to deal with everyone again, it's only for a few months but still. I’m not ready to play happy families, it’s not my mum and dad’s fault, or my brothers, I’m just... I’m too scared to love them now.

Not to mention, the two people I’ve avoided most over the last two years are right there. One of them in the Bay with her little boy, the other across town in his own apartment with his music.

Even thinking about them makes me...

Yeah, definitely not ready.

I dig around for my toothbrush, scrubbing my teeth like it will somehow wash away the memories as well.

I little over two years ago I got in a cab, boarded a plane, left behind everything I’d ever cared about and never looked back.

Heartless, I know, but that's the way you've got to be when someone else rips it out.