Dance Again (Dancing Styles Sequel)

Chapter 26

His answer was curt, and quite frankly it didn’t seem like him.

Uh, sure that’s fine. Please just knock before you come in.

  I got off my bed, switching my outfit for a pair of black shorts and a jumper that I had taken from James’ room a few nights ago. I applied a fresh coat of mascara to my eyes before settling back onto my bed. At least then it wouldn’t look like I was on edge waiting for him, or overeager for him to get here.

 Despite his request to see me NOW, the minutes were ticking by as I awaited James’ appearance in my room. Ten minutes turned to 20, and finally after 40 excruciating minutes there came three sharp taps on my door before it was flung open, revealing a disheveled James.

  “J? Are you alright? Whats-“

“I just want to know the truth. I want to hear it from you.” He said in a low voice that made my stomach clench in anxiety.

“James, I don’t….I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I stammered my mind racing at the possibilities.

He couldn’t know. There was no way. If he had been near the car, I would have seen him when I ran out. If someone else had seen and told him, I would have seen them too. And there’s no way in hell that Tristan would have told him, no way. He wouldn’t risk that again. James would kill him.

  “I saw you.” He told me in that same dark voice as before.

  My throat closed off, heart racing. My choices were to either deny everything and try to bullshit my way out of this one, or tell the truth and try to beg for forgiveness. Maybe crying would help too….  

“James, it’s not what you think it is…” I said softly taking a halting step towards him.

As I moved forwards though, he moved backwards, keeping as much space between us as he could while still remaining in the bedroom. I noticed him nudge the door shut with his foot, though it hardly mattered because I was sure that anybody in the rooms around us would be able to hear us; James wasn’t exactly the quietest of people, especially when he was angry.

“Oh really, so you snogging Tristan in his car, while I’m here waiting for you ISN’T what it looks like?!” he questioned, his voice rising slightly.  

I set my jaw, staring firmly at the ground. I wouldn’t let him talk to me like that and then grace him with a response. I was trying to have a mature conversation here about what happened, and all he wanted to do was argue.

“Isobele, look at me.” He growled. I refused to meet his gaze, focusing my attention completely on the leg of the bed in front of me, finding it much more interesting than what was going on right now. “Goddamnit Bella, Look at me!” he exclaimed, striding forward and gripping my chin tightly in his hand, jerking it up so that I was forced to look at him.

  I winced but finally met his gaze, narrowing my eyes at him. I could see the anger burning dark in his eyes, shadowed by the hurt. It pained me to know I had caused that, but the way he was treating me now was making me question the guilt about kissing Tristan. Tristan wouldn’t treat me like that. He wouldn’t yank me around like this.

“I didn’t mean to.” I choked out, reaching up and gripping his arm, trying to get him to loosen his grip on his chin. It hurt, a lot. His fingers were digging into the sensitive skin of my chin and throat. He laughed a harsh, biting laugh, obviously not buying my answer.

“James, I’m serious!” I pleaded. “I got caught up. He just, he, he said he wanted one kiss, and I thought it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

He dropped my chin, turning away from me, shaking his head at my answer.  

“It was just one kiss… it didn’t mean anything.” I murmured.

  At that little statement though, he whirled around, furious.

  "Really?! It means absolutely nothing? So what, when I kiss you, it means nothing too?! I mean, it's just a kiss? Why should it mean anything?!" he yelled.   

  My bottom lip quivered. It wasn't like that...

  "James, please. Listen to me." I begged. "I don't have any feelings for Tristan. It didn't mean anything with him. I care about you, and things with you are special. They mean something to me. YOU mean something to me. I... I love you." I finally managed to get out.     

Yes. Yes, I did love him. This had to be it. If this wasn't love, then I don't know what else it could be.  I may just be 17, totally irrational and not have a clue about anything, but I knew that I loved James.    Love isn't a practical thing. It's crazy. It's messy. It's unorganized. it's spontaneous. Wild. Collected. Reserved. Quiet. Love is.... everything. 

  James looked at me with those sharp blue eyes, sympathy and pity reflecting in them. A slight smile was teasing at his lips. 

"It's a shame that you couldn't realize that because you threw it all away." he said softly before he walked out of the room, leaving me standing there alone in a jumper that smelled of him, with my heart aching for him. 

  ********

  After that little showdown I felt numb. Empty.  I sat on the floor of my room for a good hour, just staring at the wall ahead of me letting my mind wander through everything that had happened over the past few months. 

  Louis telling me about the truth of him and my mother's relationship in the past. 

Finding out about my half brother.

Sort of mending my relationship with my mother; or at least making the effort to start. 

Losing Emma  And now, on top of it all, losing James.   

I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to spend the entire weekend thinking about the oh so obvious breakup between James and I. 

  After much debate, I crawled across the room and pulled my iPad off of the charger.   

Other than telling me that they had had a child, Louis hadn't told me the details of their son, and neither had my mother; not that I had asked her. 

  I pulled up Google, typing in 'Louis Tomlinson' and 'Lucy Martin', my mother's maiden name.   

When the articles came up, I read them in order. From the ones starting at the beginning of the X Factor to when the car accident came around.    His name was Nolan; my brother. He had been born in April 2012 in New York City. Louis and Lucy hadn't been married, but they were living together after my mother had divorced Harry.  Nolan was also buried in New York as well, dying a few short months after his birth.  Louis and my mother's words floated back to me, about them taking a trip together every year to his grave until I accused them of having an affair again. 

  A plan started hatching in my head, against the rational part of my brain. The next thing I knew, I was pulling my bags out of the closet, tossing whatever in there that I could possibly need.  When I had a sufficient amount of clothing and money stored away, I pulled up the British Airlines site, looking for a specific flight.   

After ten minutes of searching, I had purchased three tickets for tomorrow at noon, leaving heathrow for Philadelphia. If I went home right now, it would give me plenty of time to explain to my mom my plan, for her to contact Louis and get him to meet us at the airport.   

This plan was spontaneous, and crazy, but just the thought of this escape already made me feel lighter inside. I had to do this. It could be the start of figuring out how to either mend things with James or forget about him, and mending things with my mother. And Louis for that matter.  This could be the start to fixing everything. Just one little flight across the ocean.