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Checking the time, I jump in the shower and get ready to head to the studio. If I need to come up with a full choreography in a month, I need to get to work right away. This choreography needs to blow their minds. It’s my chance to prove myself outside of my hometown.
A small piece of me feels as if I need to do this to show others I didn’t settle with teaching. I got asked many questions when I was younger. There were rumors that I decided to teach because I wasn’t accepted to any school. People like to stir drama, and I normally stay in my lane because I know the truth in my heart.
But I won’t lie… It’d be great to prove to them my worth, especially the Remingtons, who tried to ruin my chances.
Once I’m in the studio, I turn on the music and just feel the beats, allowing my body to guide me as I relax and clear my mind.
Dancing has always been my safe place to land, the thing I do when I need to gain perspective, feel free, or escape from the real world. It’s my haven.
As I dance, different steps come to me, and I jot them down in my notebook. Repeating them, I get a feel for the choreography, changing things around.
I feel like I’m on top of the world. I squeal and turn in circles. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Alexa Leon has her groove back—professionally and, dare I say, romantically.
Changing back into my jeans and sweater, I head out for lunch before opening the studio. My steps are light as I walk through town toward the diner. Happiness pulses through me as I smile and wave at people I pass on the sidewalk.
″Hey!”
I smile and look at Hope. “Hi, are you on lunch break?”
″Yup, are you? Want to grab lunch together?”
″Diner?” I smile.
″That’s where I’m headed. I thought you’d be home.” We walk side by side.
″I was at the studio, actually.”
″In the morning? You’re normally there in the morning later on in the month. Well, I guess it is December, so the end of the month is holiday season.” She’s rambling with her face scrunched up as if trying to figure out my schedule.
″Oh…” I turn and find a disgusted expression staring at me.
″Hello, Mrs. Remington,” Hope says to divert her attention.
″Hope, so lovely to see you.” She gives her one of her infamous polite smiles. “You must tell me where you’re registered. I asked Hudson, but you know how men are. He hasn’t told me yet.” Her eyes slide to mine.
″Or he’s been too busy with the wrong people.”
I clench my teeth and take a deep breath. Ignore her. Ignore her. She’s not worth it.
″Mrs. Remington, I appreciate you asking, but as you can see, I’m busy right now with my best friend. Once we’re registered, you’ll hear from us the same as everyone else.” I gawk at Hope’s response and stare in awe at her courage to speak up.
Why do the Remingtons always mute me?
″Of course,” her smile is now fake as she walks away.
″I can’t stand her,” I say.
″I know. Ignore her. Tell me what you were up to.” Hope thankfully changes topics.
″Let’s sit, and I’ll tell you.” I open the door to the diner, and we grab an empty table.
″So mysterious. Spill.” Hope raises her eyebrows.
″I got a call from someone I danced with. She asked if I’d be interested in teaching a class at a huge dance conference she’s organizing next month.”
″No way,” Hope exclaims with wide eyes. “That’s amazing, Lex. Congrats.” She reaches over the table and hugs me.
I laugh and lean back. “I know. I’m so excited. I can also take a class if I want, which will be amazing. I’m teaching about opening your own dance studio and balancing business and teaching. Then, I’ll teach them a choreographed routine, so I went into the studio to start working on it. I want it to be amazing.” I clutch my hands together.
