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“What?” I practically spit out my coffee at the look of pure lust in their eyes, not to mention amusement.
“Catch you later, Titch. You bettercomeprepared.”
“Wait…”
“Pen, you’re in for a treat.” Zayn winks and they both walk off with stupid grins on their faces, leaving me feeling way too breathless for first thing in the morning. I snatch up my mobile phone from my table and tap out a quick message.
Me:Clancy, I’m going to murder you!!!
In response she sends me a stream of laughing emojis, followed by an eggplant and a purple smiling devil face.
Me: Seriously, your dad got you VIP treatment at a fucking sex club?!
Clancy: My dad is very liberal. Besides, it’s not a sex club per se. They just make use of some very hot, naked dancers and private rooms for, erm… chatting in.Promise it’s just dancing and drinking… Unless of course…
“Oh, my fucking God,” I mutter, and I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but I swear I can hear Clancy laughing from the other side of the Academy.
* * *
Later that nightI wake up from a nightmare where Lena is lying lifeless on her bed, deep purple marks ringing her throat. A sob escapes my throat as the remnants of the dream still try to persuade me it was real, but I force myself to rationalise what is and isn’t true.
Lena is safe.
She has guards watching over her every minute of the day.
She. Is. Safe.
Despite that, I send a quick message to Beast, not expecting an answer but getting one anyway.
Beast:Lena is good. Sleep.
It’s past two in the morning and I already know that sleep isn’t going to come. So I get dressed and head down to one of the studios to dance off my restlessness. At night, the Academy is vastly different to the hustle and bustle of a busy day. The corridors are dark and filled with hidden corners where predators could lie in wait. I know feeling this creeped out is just the after effect of my dream still trying to convince me that there’s danger around every turn, so I do my best to ignore the feeling that I’m not the only one sneaking through the halls at night.
Heading into Studio Three, the automatic lights flicker on overhead and I place my mobile in the dock, turning on the music and keeping the sound level low. I stretch through one song, easing out the knots in my muscles, then begin to move to the beat of the next song.
It'sI Can’t Make You Love Mesung by Teddy Swims.
This damn song perfectly suits my mood.
Unrequited love. A broken heart. Loss. Heartache.
It’s all wrapped up in this song. A song I’ve listened to on repeat countless times.
I might have a glimmer of hope knowing that Zayn and York are willing to work through our feelings, but my heart has always been equally divided up into four pieces. Each part belongs to one of the Breakers. I know it won’t ever beat fully again without them all.
And that just isn’t going to happen. I feel the truth of that knowledge like a bludgeon to my heart, it smashes through my chest forcing my knees to the floor.
My head falls forward, my fingertips sliding over the dusty wooden floorboards as tears clog my throat. For a moment, I just allow the music to wash over me, and I’m reminded of Xeno’s cutting words and Dax’s dance. Two men, two pieces of my heart who refuse to let me back in.
I don’t blame them.
I hurt them.
I deserve this pain.
Pressing my palms to the floor, I lift my body slightly and slide my feet outwards slowly into a side split before sweeping them together in front of me. Teddy sings about unrequited love, about not being able to force someone when it comes to love, and that sob in my throat breaks free. I capture it in my hand, cupping my fingers over it as though it’s a living, breathing thing.
I suppose it is in a way.
