Chapter Thirty-Eight

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I managed to get through dance class without zoning out for too long, pondering where my jerk of a boyfriend could be, and what he's been doing for almost two days now. The new choreography we're working on is more difficult than the last and demands my attention, which I was thankful for. Because then I wouldn't be thinking about Blue, but how quick and prompt my turns have to be and what the next step was. For an hour and a half, I was finally able to get away from my jumbled thoughts and delve into the lovely art of dance, a great distraction from my shitty reality.

On my way home, I look through my text messages and call log. No callbacks from Blue or any responding text messages. He's still not answering me, and I'm still pissed he's ignoring me. He has to know that what he is doing is unnecessary and outright cruel. You don't up and leave your girlfriend after a small fight and not respond to their calls or texts, reassuring her you're alive and well and not in an alleyway somewhere. It's wicked and unacceptable. My earlier anger rears its ugly head and I call him again, for the umpteenth time since he's left without a word. I get his voicemail and leave an enraged message, curse words and all. I get weird looks from the people on the bus, but I couldn't care less.

When I arrive at the apartment complex, I plan to take a long shower, eat the leftover lasagna, and continue watching my currently favorite show, How to Get away With Murder. I receive a text from Declan, asking me if I'm sure about not coming to the party. He promises liquor and snacks and binge-watching any TV show of my choice. The last part piques my interest and I almost accept his invitation... but I can't. As angry as I am at him, I have to stay home and wait for Blue to come home. I get a feeling tonight may be the night he comes to his senses and comes back home. Sure, I'll most likely hit him a bunch of times for leaving me in the cold for so long, but I still love him, and I want to know he's still in one piece.

I open the door to the apartment and step inside. "Blue?" I call out, hoping he'll be lounging on the couch and waiting for me to apologize for being a major dick. But he isn't in the living room, or the kitchen, or the bathroom, or my makeshift dance studio, or our bedroom. I want to slap myself for hoping for such a thing. Of course, he isn't here. Why would he be here, ready to apologize and beg for my forgiveness? I feel like a fool for thinking so and contemplate accepting Declan's invitation. Binge-watching HTGAWM sounds a lot cooler and less pathetic when I'm with other people and not eating two-day old lasagna and waiting around for my boyfriend to come back home. If Blue doesn't come home by eight, I'll go to the party.

After taking a long, hot shower and changing into a plain white-shirt and sweatpants, I decide to finish some homework and study for a little while. I play Coldplay in the background and listen to Chris Marin sing about changing to gain love and affection for a woman in the song Shiver as I do my work. Working and listening to the talented front man of my favorite band is relaxing and takes my mind off the mess of my reality for two hours.

When I'm finished and have packed away everything, there's still two hours before I go to Declan's. Instead of doing the usual binge-watching and being pathetic, I bring my music to the dance studio and work on the new choreography from school. The Scientist, another song from the alternative rock/pop band, isn't exactly the song we're using for the unique dance, but it's too good for me to stop playing. I practice the complex dance moves and techniques for about an hour and a half, finishing the Parachutes album and starting the next.

I'm exhausted and out of breath, laying on the floor and staring at the white ceiling, when I hear the front door slam closed. I gasp and jolt into an upright seating position, too terrified to move or make a sound. I locked the front door, right? No—yes, I definitely remember locking it. Is it an intruder? One of my worst fears is this exact moment: someone breaking into the apartment when I'm alone. At least with Blue in the house, I know he can protect me and deal with a psychopath trying to rob and/or murder us, but by myself I am helpless and weak and stone-still. I wait a couple of minutes, holding my breath and willing what I heard to be a bird hitting the window or something, and not an actual thief. When I hear the faint sounds of the TV, my assumptions of being robbed fade away. They wouldn't watch TV before robbing a house... right?

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