Blue (The Spectrum Series: #3)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The emptiness I feel the next four days is pathetic. I wish Blue could have told me about the gig tour before telling me the day before leaving so I could have prepared myself, but it doesn't matter. He'll be back home tomorrow. It's not like he went off to fight a war or anything. And I've been keeping myself busy with choreographing my solo dance for the showcase. I've choreographed numerous dances for countless competitions over the years, but none intimidate and stand out more than this one. Every move and turn has to be perfect and bow the minds of the recruiters that will be sitting in the audience come time to perform under the lights. I've got my dance down to every pirouette and the timing is the best I can do. All that's left is to think of costume designs and set-pieces for the stage. A daunting task that has to have meaning and be bold, but not too in your face. I've been wracking my mind all morning, so when I got a call from Catherine who asked if I could help Delia prep for her wedding dances, I jumped at the favor to get out of my head before it explodes.

I recall my memory of the posh neighborhood and walk under the fruitful trees turning red and orange lining the streets to the fancy townhouse. As I stroll along and pass friendly woman pushing babies in strollers and walking their dogs, I inhale the earthy scent of the trees and bask in the waves of fresh air. I've been locked in the studio well after dance class ends. Blue had to call me multiple times, reminding me to stop dancing and get to bed before my limbs fall off. I only fall for his horrid exaggeration because I imagine it happening every time. Most nights I've fallen asleep to him raving about playing live for people who are taking an interest in his band and his chuckle when he figures I'm drifting to sleep.

When I arrive, Delia opens the door with a charming smile and invites me in. She's wearing a white crop top tank-top top and pink yoga pants, her honey-blonde hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. I'm dressed similarly, although I had to wrap my jacket around my waist to cover my butt and avoid lusty stares and catcalling on my way here. Damn a-holes. I had to wear just my school hoodie against the freezing cold to prevent guys being douchebags.

"I hope you're not one of those dancing fanatics I've seen in the movies. The only dancing I do is in the car and in the clubs if I'm feeling daring." Delia laughs, and I do too.

"Don't worry, I'll just be teaching you the basics," I assure her, and she leads me to an empty room on the first floor. It's completely unfurnished and glass patio sliding doors allow sunlight to pour through. When I ask what the room is used for, she flushes as she tells me it's what Samuel and Catherine anticipate will be her and Elliot's future child's nursery. I laugh when she tells me they'll be waiting a long time, at least until they're married, which is rather soon.

As I connect to my speaker's Bluetooth, Catherine enters with three bottled waters, one tucked under her arm. She's well dressed for the occasion, in a pink workout jacket and matching pink-and-black bottoms and Nike sneakers. I'm a bit taken aback by her appearance, Delia's too, but mostly Catherine. I've always just seen her in classy dresses and high heels. Seeing her and her soon-to-be daughter in law like this makes me feel underwhelmed. They're both practically models wearing their everyday clothes, meanwhile I barely look anything similar to their striking looks. I push down the heavy feeling and match Catherine's smile as she walks over to me, holding out a bottled water.

"Thank you so much for coming down here and teaching us how not to move with two left feet," she jokes and I take the water.

"Of course, it's no problem at all! I'm sure you guys aren't that bad." I smile.

The next hour and a half of dancing passes by, and it turns out they're really not bad dancers. A little stiff and timid when it comes to moving their hips, but they aren't terrible. I teach them basic dance moves and help them loosen their bodies. They stumble into each other and we all laugh every time. I remain patient and explain the move numerous times before we all move in sync. I can tell dancing is not their forte whatsoever, but it takes time for everyone to grow into their passion. No one should feel invalidated if they're not perfect at what they love. Passion is passion. As long as you have your heart set in whatever you do, nothing else matters.