Page 29 of Darkest Obsession

I hazard a solid guess. He doesn’t always have the best personality, but Sylvia seems to like him and even I have to admit he’s good looking for an asshole.

“It’s Thomas Bainbridge, isn’t it?”

Just thinking about him irritates me, but they knew each other before school, so I think I’m onto something. It would make sense if Sylvia was crushing on him, even if he has the worst personality He’s attractive. Beyond attractive, actually. But that doesn’t make up for his stank attitude.

Sylvia’s face wrinkles in disgust. “Girl, just no.”

Seriously? His tattoos? His hair? His ripped body?

“What’s wrong with Thomas?”

Sylvia shrugs, but keeps her nose wrinkled.

“I don’t like tattoos.”

“Are you joking?”

How can she say that? Thomas doesn’t just have tattoos. He’s like… completely ripped. He makes the Hemsworth brothers look fat. His muscles are insane. I don’t even know how he keeps his physique so perfect. Can those weird rowing machines actually turn a guy into a fucking beast?

“No!” Sylvia says, shrugging her shoulders as if throwing away the whole damn idea. “I’m not into Thomas. No way. We are just friends and honestly, he’s a bad friend. Now let’s get breakfast with Roger.”

“Wait, is Roger your crush?”

“No. You’ll never guess.”

She’s probably right. Sylvia might be fun and bubbly, but there’s a part of her she keeps so close to the chest. I get it. I can be the same way too, especially since my whole life is on the internet. I just appreciate Sylvia for never bringing it up, even if she confesses that she used to watch the channel in high school. It’s weird that she can know every awkward moment in my life and I don’t know half as much about her.

We get breakfast together, and Roger makes good company. He’s a little flirty with both of us, but that just seems to be his personality. He’s a great dancer for a white guy, which definitely counts for something. Too bad I just see him as a friend. He would probably make a good boyfriend.

After breakfast, I head to my first class, which I unfortunately don’t have with Sylvia. We probably won’t even run into each other until it’s time for bed. Just in case Molly is still in a weird mood, Kola agrees to let Sylvia sleep in her room for the night. I don’t mind getting my alone time. Growing up with a camera in my face, I would come up with anything to do to get away from everything. I’m lucky I didn’t end up more of a loner. My little brother could end up that way. He already hides away for ages playing video games. I miss you, buddy.

We don’t have a dance rehearsal tonight, so I head to the studio alone to practice once the boys are done with rowing. They practice for so long and the studio isn’t even available until 8 p.m. They don’t even help clear the room knowing I have it booked for dance practice after. Assholes.

I’ll have to move all the stupid machines myself to get room to do my kicks and jumps, but since Kola has me dancing the lead, I need to put the extra work in, so maybe I can consider dragging these raggedy rowing machines around a warmup.

Throwing my headphones on and moving to a beat always made me forget the crazy world outside the music. Before rehearsal, I throw on some old Brandy albums on shuffle. The Boy Is Mine comes on first. I love this song. Why doesn’t anyone make music like this any more? I swear I was born in the wrong generation sometimes. I prefer baggy tees to crop tops and baggy track pants to leggings. I’d rather listen to Aaliyah than SZA, even if I have nothing against her.

I guess I never fit in with the other kids my age. I’m lucky to have Kola and Sylvia now. They get why I’ve never had super close friends before and they don’t judge me for any part of my past.

Once I move the stupid rowing machines, I have to put on my hardcore warmup music. Get Me Bodied by Beyoncé has been the best warmup song on my playlist for the past two years and nothing has changed. After that, I play Freakum Dress to stretch my legs and practice my jumps for our dance pieces.

I work up a sweat to Baby Boy while moving my hips and I am ready for this. I don’t mind rehearsing alone and since no one sane is in the gym this late, I have the whole place to myself. I can sing while I dance, practice the same part a hundred times and lose myself and my body in the movements.

Now that I know Kola’s choreography almost by heart — and the parts I don’t know I have on video on my phone — I run through my part over and over until I get it perfect. The faster I learn this dance, the faster I can get into the other one. We have five pieces to put together before the end of the semester and I want this to be our thing. Our black girl thing. There’s nothing at the Fox Academy for black people. British people don’t even have the obligatory ‘diversity’ departments and they seem to think mentioning race at all invokes racism like the damn ghost of Christmas past.

There aren’t many black kids at this school but maybe more would want to come here if we had a hip-hop dance team and a few other clubs that weren’t totally lame. I catch my breath after an hour straight of dancing and blast loud music as I close my eyes and lean against the mirrors in the dance studio. Just breathe, Clover.

If I stop moving I just start thinking of everything going on at home. I feel guilty for leaving my brother behind. I feel guilty for not staying on the channel. I feel guilty for wanting an education instead of doing what my parents wanted and trying to get into a low budget movie and then marrying up in the entertainment industry.

I just want an education. It’s the one thing my parents never had and were convinced they never needed, but I don’t want to have to act like an idiot online to make a living. I’d rather dance professionally or teach people how to dance, or just… wait until I find a better way. When my eyes flicker open, the lights in the studio are off, and I’m plunged into darkness alone.

Crap. I didn’t realize they had these automatic lights down here too. Some parts of the library have motion detecting lights so students can’t hook up there. I never stopped moving in the studio long enough to find out. I walk toward the light switch in the dark. I know my way, so I don’t think twice before stepping away from the mirror. I take several steps away from the wall and then a long arm wraps around me and someone grabs me.

I scream and the noise echoes in the studio before my assailant covers my mouth. I know he’s the same man from the party and I freak the hell out. I’m a little stronger from a few days of dancing, but not strong enough to overpower a grown ass man.

I thrust my elbow into his stomach. Firm. He has a really firm stomach. That’s all I can tell because it’s dark and he’s holding me against him, finally lifting me off the ground so I can’t even fight. I hate feeling so fucking powerless, so I at least try to bite his hand which only makes my assailant clamp down on me harder.

I squirm in his grasp and make several desperate movements that yield nothing.