Page 6 of Burning Bridges Duet

When it’s my turn, and I choose a series of movements we once did in a dance video. I mix some jazz, which is a lively, upbeat style of dance, to my contemporary moves, which are more abstract and expressive. Combining the two can create a dynamic that’s visually very attractive. Once I’m done, the teacher points me out as a great example, and I inwardly cringe when the queen bees of the class send me mean glares as I sit back down.

“Don’t mind them,” the girl next to me whispers. “They can’t stand not having all the attention. You did so good! I’m May, by the way.”

I smile back at her. “Thanks, you did too. I loved the salsa aspect of yours. I’m Liv.”

The teacher continues with his lecture, and I’m a bit proud of myself for having stood out among all these talented students.

After class, I make my way back to the café I visited on Monday to treat myself to another iced caramel latte. It’s scorching outside, and I quickly gather my hair into a ponytail as sweat beads on the back of my neck. I hope I don’t look like too much of a mess when I arrive. I admit, I’m also secretly hoping that laptop guy and guitar boy are there again.

Despite everything else that’s been on my mind lately, I can’t seem to shake them from my thoughts. They were both undeniably attractive, but I know better than to be fooled by good looks. Besides, dating is the furthest thing from my mind right now. I’m a mess, and nobody will want that. Liam made sure to remind me of that constantly, telling me how lucky I was that he wanted to be with me because I was so difficult to love. After hearing it so many times, it’s hard not to believe it yourself.

As I enter the café, I notice that it’s full again. The old lady behind the counter greets me with a warm smile, but I scan the room in search of the blue-eyed duo. Unfortunately, they’re nowhere to be found. I try to push the disappointment aside and remind myself that I shouldn’t care anyway.

After ordering my latte to go, I head back out into the heat, telling myself that if I run into them again, then so be it. I need to focus on my studies right now, maybe make some friends. But I already know deep down that I’ll be back at the café soon for another latte and maybe to catch another glimpse of those handsome faces.

SEVEN

We’re having yet another argument, or more accurately, Liam is arguing and I’m just standing there, shaking. I can’t handle his behavior anymore. I should have ended things ages ago. The man I once loved is gone, replaced by a raging narcissist.

He’s not only emotionally but physically abusing me, and I need to leave. However, fear holds me back. I’m scared of what he will do to me and my career if I break up with him. He’s the golden child, the one who handles the media, while I’m just the pretty accessory hanging on his arm. Sure, I don’t have to be famous. I would love to have a peaceful life as a dancer in a theater somewhere, but he could ruin my reputation with a snap of his fingers, and then what? All I’ve ever done is dance.

He’s pressing the issue of us moving in together. It’s a miracle I’ve avoided it until now, since we’ve been together for four years and were friends long before that. Our families are close, and we grew up together, went to the same school, and took the same dance lessons. But we were always traveling so much for our performances, everyone agreed that it was unnecessary to live together, since we spend so little time at home.

Now we are in my room at my parents’ house, he’s yelling at me, getting louder and louder, spit flying out of his mouth. Then he hits me, making me step back and hug myself. He’s always careful not to leave bruises where anyone could see.

He’s going to do it again when the door to my room flies open, and my little brother Theodore runs to me.

“Stop hurting Livy!” he yells in his childish voice, standing in front of me, but Liam is too far gone.

I try to stop him, but he’s already violently pushed Theodore to the side. He slams against my dresser, and I get on my knees, cradling his small body in my arms.

“Out!” I scream, pointing at the door.

“Olivia…” Liam begins.

“No! I don’t want to hear it, Liam. That’s it. That was the final straw. You hurting me is one thing, but attacking my family is too far. We’re over. Our relationship is over, and our partnership is done. Get out of my home and my life. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

He’s breathing heavily, while I rock Theodore, who is crying quietly, and avoiding looking at Liam.

“You’re going to regret this,” Liam tells me before he leaves.

My scream reverberates throughout the stillness of my sparsely furnished apartment, and my eyes snap open to the darkness. The shadows dance and flicker on my ceiling as I remember my vivid dream. Tears rush to my eyes as the emotions overwhelm me, and I let out a heart-wrenching sob. The sound echoes throughout the silence, making me wince at the sharpness of it. I startle when someone knocks hard on my door, then I hear a muffled voice.

“Liv? You all right in there?”

I freeze for a moment, wondering who it could be, then I realize it’s probably my new neighbor. I get up from the bed and look around at the mess I’ve made of the place. One of my many faults is that I’m not a tidy person, and I still haven’t managed to assemble any of my new furniture. I quickly put on a zip up hoodie that I left on the floor yesterday. It’s an old one from my dad, so it’s way too big and comes just above my knees. Since I’m only wearing panties and a shirt underneath, the scar on my knee is visible, but maybe he won’t notice. I’m just going to open the door to let him know I’m good. I make my way to the door and open it slowly, peeking out to see Gunner’s face.

“Are you okay?” he asks when he sees me. He looks tired, and there’s still an imprint from his pillow on his cheek. “Are you alright? I heard you scream,” he asks again when I don’t answer quickly enough, concern etched on his face.

“I’m really sorry. I have some bad nightmares. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I reply, feeling embarrassed.

He watches me for a moment, his rigid posture deflating as he puts the safety on the gun he was holding. I hadn’t even noticed it before. I stare at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I thought you might be in danger,” he explains as he puts the gun into the back of his jeans. His shirt is on backwards, as if he rushed to put it on in the dark.

“I might be the worst neighbor you’ve ever had,” I joke, attempting to lighten the mood. “Next time you hear a scream, just turn over and go back to sleep. I promise the only danger I’m in is not getting any sleep myself.” Except Gunner doesn’t seem amused.

“You were crying,” he states, the concern clear in his voice.