Someone Else

Chapter 2

There was no point in showering as I would be disgustingly sweaty in a matter of hours at the studio, so I just changed into some dance appropriate attire and walked out into the kitchen to continue my routine.

One thing I was grateful for in our apartment was a little outdoor patio just off the kitchen. It wasn't much, but it was enough to allow me to start every morning soaking in the little sun London was going to give me while I drank my coffee.

It was more than just a way to start my day; sure, I enjoyed the ritual of cradling the piping fresh brew up to my nose to inhale its scent before taking a sip and allowing my skin to feel the warmth the sun was radiating down to me, but it was also something that reminded me of home and comfort and if I closed my eyes I could be anywhere when the aroma filled my senses. I could be at home unloading all of the week's happenings to mom, or I could be sitting with my sister on the vacation we took together to Seattle last summer (where they really did have the best coffee). So long as my eyes were closed and the steam was flowing over the top of my mug, I was wherever I wanted to be.

While I could sit in the sun with my coffee all morning long, I had to pull myself away and start walking to class, so after dropping my mug in the sink and grabbing my bag, I headed out to spend the first half of my day at one of my favorite places.

I have a routine for everything, but my Saturday morning routine is one of my favorites. The walk to the studio from our flat was perfect. London is truly a beautiful city; the streets I walked along were lined with trees and the when the sun was shining I was reminded why I chose this city to uproot my life to.

The uniformity of the terraced houses queued up along the blocks brought me some kind of weird sense of peace, and I could stop to admire the little gardens each homeowner so painfully cared after and be reminded of my grandmother's garden that I used to play in as a kid. There was a stretch of park across from our apartment, which made the location of it even more perfect. Parks held a special place in my heart. I was in one the first time someone told me he loved me, and I don't think that feeling of your first love is one that will ever fade, regardless of how much you yearn to forget it.

You know how everyone has their thing? The thing that makes them happier than anything else in the world? For some people, it could be cracking open a brand new book. For others, it may be running through city streets and feeling the concrete beneath their feet. For me, it was the moment the music started playing and my body began moving through the choreographed motions of a fresh routine. Every beat, every movement, every emotion that my body went through while performing seeped into my being, and every negative thought, pressured feeling, hint of stress, and memory that refused to eternally fade from my mind seemed to disappear for just a few minutes.

This was only my third time at the new studio, but the classroom I was in quickly became a place of comfort for me. I typically spent three hours there on Saturdays, starting with some cardio and barre work, moving into a lyrical class, and finishing with choreographing time with some of the other adult dancers. The studio put together a showcase every six months, and I happened to start there just in time to help prepare for the next month's show.

Every dancer in the choreography class was required to create a routine, and I was still searching my brain for the perfect dance for my first show in London. For the time being, I just helped out the other dancers or listened to different kinds of music while improvising to see if anything came to me that I would want to keep.

At one o'clock, it was that bittersweet moment where I was happy that I could rest after an intense morning of dancing, but also where I could feel my anxiety start to build as everything I was avoiding in my brain during those three hours came crashing back into my mind, and I had no one there to rescue me.

As I was packing up my bag, a few of the other dancers invited me to grab lunch around the corner with them. No thanks. My mind was a Pavlovian dog when it came to people asking me to join them in something. But I knew I had to break out of my comfort zone and just go; if anything, it would have helped put off the thoughts that were going to inundate my mind once I stepped out of the studio. I kept reminding myself that I had managed to talk to a complete stranger for three hours the night before, which meant I could surely handle some harmless small talk with people I at least had something in common with.

I had an idea where this insecurity around new people stemmed from, but it was something I didn't want to admit; I couldn't attribute yet another failure in my life to him. For a little over a year, I had worried so much about whether or not someone was going to like me for who I was that it ended up interfering with my ability to get to know someone enough for them to actually like me.

I'd never had to work for a friendship or a romantic relationship before. The only romantic one I had ever been in lasted nearly my entire lifetime prior to moving to London. We had grown up together, neighbors since birth; our mothers were best friends. I had someone who knew me as well as I knew myself, someone who liked me and loved me, and when that was over, then what? How would I ever find someone again who would want to dedicate that kind of time to me?

Honestly, I didn't even know how to date. I never had to. I never had to make friends either. We were from a small coastal town, and all of our friends were the same. After it ended, I needed to cut off ties, and that was when I realized I didn't even know how to make friends. I thought that moving across an ocean would somehow allow me to reinvent myself, start over. I managed to stay in the same town as him for an entire year before I couldn't stand it anymore. But moving didn't help. Londoner Elle was the same as American Elle minus the committed relationship that she had thought would grow old with her.

I had Lily, and she was always my friend, not our friend. I was forced into a friendship with her my freshman year of college when we were paired up as roommates, and she got me through those four years and the first four years of my real adult life. If anyone knew how to reinvent themselves it was her, and I knew I would only be able to make the move to London if she came with me. She had earned her degree in biology, intending to enter a medical program after graduating, but realized she just didn't love it as much as she loved throwing a good party.

She was the only one there for me when the person I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with said goodbye with nothing more than 'there's someone else' written on the back of a grocery list in our apartment. Finding out the person you've loved for your entire life has suddenly fallen out of love with you kind of strips any shred of confidence you had in yourself. I had the rest of my life with him planned out, and it was ripped away from me with three words.

All of these thoughts plagued my brain almost every minute of every day. Maybe that's why small talk was difficult for me. I couldn't listen to the person speaking to me because I couldn't quiet my own voice inside my head. The voice that repeatedly told me I wasn't good enough, that I would never find love again, that I was too difficult to be with and was an idiot for thinking otherwise. Allowing music to fill my mind and concentrating on the moves my body was making when I was dancing was the only way I had found to quiet that uncontrollable and incessant noise in my head, and I longed to find something that lasted more than a few minutes to finally help me move on.

A/N: Thanks for reading :) if you liked this chapter, please tap that star to vote or leave me a little note! ⭐️