The Right Side of the Wrong Bed || Bruno Mars

Chapter 37

Faye

"Stop."

The music was cut. Again. For the thousandth time—It felt.

I was then set down, my ballet shoes colliding with the floor that I was not in good terms with at the moment. Mr. Walker's oxford heels bombed against its hardness and echoed in the vacancy of the theater, as he sauntered towards a perplexed me and an annoyed Dylan.

I can feel my mentor's frustration already spilling, and his patience thinning, but he tried his best not to let them show in his face. He always had tried to mask them and kept his composure. "Faye, darling," he uttered, hands on his waist. "You're not giving me anything. Feel the music. Get lost into it." The firmness in his voice was so alarming that it got me nodding fervently. "What is happening to you? You don't seem like yourself these past few days."

My eyes snapped up to meet his. What is happening to me?

"I'm sorry," my vulnerability speaking for me.

"Both of you, focus! Dance!" Dylan and I both knew what that D-word meant. However just a single syllable, it meant so many things. It didn't just mean moving your body to the rhythm of the music. No, it wasn't just about grace, balance or timing. It was more than that, deeper and more complex, that only we who believed in its magic understood. That magic where the rhythm becomes the blood which runs through your veins, the mind gets drunk in the sound of violins, the heart beating along to the pounding of the piano. Right now, I didn't feel that magic, even just a spark of it, for my blood was not rhythm, but a river of anxiety; it wasn't the sound of violins that drowned my mind but thoughts, depths and depths of them; my heart didn't care about the piano, it was busy screaming for someone to appear out of nowhere and be real.

I may be flapping my arms and twirling on my feet but this was not dancing, dancing which the thoughts of him shouldn't be doing in my head, creating a ballroom out of it. Unfortunately, that was exactly what was happening and it had been like that for three days now—three days of practicing and five days of half wishing I'd wake up beside him again. Still, my questions remained to be unanswered and continued to strangle me to confusion.

"C'mon, Faye. We need to focus. It's been three days and we still haven't perfected a damn routine," Dylan murmured, a slight ferocity in his voice, digging his eyes hard on mine. I knew this meant so much to him as much as it did to me. That passion though, was not being showcased by me right now.

Mr. Walker had gone back to the front seats and situated himself there. The music slipped in and I positioned myself to dance, kicking the thought of Bruno being somewhere out there and his whereabouts away hard.

.

I sighed and dropped my bag on the vacant seat, fixing my sister a glare. "I can't believe you."

Too full on texting and never unlocking her eyes on her screen, she only felt for the straw and innocently took a sip of her iced tea.

"Bollocks! You could've picked a better restaurant to eat dinner at," I complained.

"Sit down, honey. It's my treat," said she.

So I sat opposite her and endured the sight of red lanterns and Chinese scripts in mum's favorite restaurant where Eleanor decided we have dinner.

A waitress went over to our table to get our orders. As usual, I ordered some fried rice and noodles. After about ten minutes, she was back with our food. My sister and I grabbed our utensils and began dinner, then later on, a conversation where we became too engaged in. She told me more about UNI, law and especially Morris, her Irish boyfriend that I had met only once. I loved the idea of bonding with my sister after a long while that I had not seen her. Just for once, I gave myself a rest from swimming in the ocean of thoughts and questions of him. I locked them all up in a chest and threw the chest into the river which led to a body of water that hasn’t been discovered.