Chapter Two
I think about Noah's words all day long.
I watch him dance through the doors of the studio, his every movement so elegant and well-rehearsed. I can hear the faint beats of the music float through the air and my feet automatically begin to tap to the beat. After three in the afternoon, I watch the clock like a hawk, my mouth drying out the closer it gets. I wave goodbye to numerous dance teachers and my friends, watching as they leave one by one. Eventually the dance studio is enveloped in a comfortable silence and I stand up from my chair, breathing in deeply.
The clock reads 4 pm and I picture Noah sitting cross-legged on the dance studio floor, waiting for me. Involuntarily my feet begin to move until I'm stood directly outside the studio. An overwhelming feeling fills my chest and I close my eyes, reminding myself to breathe.
"Come on Layne, you can do this," I whisper, building the courage to enter. My shaking hands rise and push open the door. Before I know it, I can hear the familiar shuffle of my feet against the wooden flooring. I open my eyes and feel myself begin to tear up.
"You made it."
Noah is standing in the far right corner, next to the music controls. I nod my head, too choked up with emotion to respond.
"Don't look so terrified, this place is like a second home to you," Noah says, smiling as he strides towards me. I nod my head and laugh, agreeing with him.
"Yeah you're right, I can't dance though Noah. I don't have my dance clothes," I say, making excuses as I glance down at my work attire of a simple grey dress and black tights.
"You don't need it, we can take it slow." Noah shrugs. I sigh and pause —
"My parents said I can't."
"Yes, you can." Noah responds, stepping forward and taking hold of my hand. His fingers spread warmth through mine, and I smile sadly.
"No, I can't."
"You can try, Layne. You know your own capabilities more than anyone else," Noah persuades me, pulling me further into the studio. I reluctantly follow him and shake my head in protest when he turns the music on, and the familiar notes fill the room.
"I can't," I whisper, tears building up in my eyes. Noah ignores my protests and gently guides me towards him, both of us starting off in a position of a dance routine I loved doing with him. The music pauses, giving us a few seconds to breathe and collect ourselves. My eyes are squeezed shut tightly in complete fear and I can feel my heart thump against my chest, threatening to burst through. Once the music starts, I allow my body to respond and my arms follow Noah's, both of our movements synchronised.
I gently twirl on my foot, Noah's hand in mine as he guides me and aids me through it. Once I complete the move effortlessly and the freedom of dancing washes over my body once again, I laugh out loud in complete disbelief. Noah's laughter soon joins mine and we continue dancing, my mind drifting away into a place of serenity.
The dance begins to draw to an end, but the finishing move begins to daunt on me. I take it slow, relieving the pressure off my foot but instead I lose my balance and fall over, landing in a heap on the floor. I blink in surprise, remembering the accident and the outcome of it. For a second, I'd completely forgot about the doctor's words.
"Do you want to carry on?" Noah says, glancing down at me with his hand outstretched. He appears worried at the decision of my response. I realise this is the moment I either walk away from dance for good or stay and continue to dance against all the odds stacked against me. I take a few seconds to reply but when I do, my words are full of determination.
"You bet. I can do this," I say strongly, taking hold of his hand. Noah pulls me back up onto my feet and towards his chest, a wide smile on his face.
"That's the Layne I know. It's nice to have you back."
"I'm not ready to leave just yet. I have plenty of fight left in me." I tell him, a new-found flame igniting inside of my heart. Dance has always been my passion and even with an injury, I'll make it work somehow. Noah beams at me, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The small action causes me to pause and look at him, both of us holding eye contact.
"Dancing isn't the same without you, we share a connection I haven't found with anyone else," Noah tells me. His compliment fuels me for the next two hours as we dance, stretch and laugh our way through all of our old routines. Despite not being able to do them as elegantly or professionally as before the accident, I walk away with the biggest smile on my face and a spring in my step.
Watch this space because Layne McGrath is back.