Page 70 of Frozen Hearts
Rain pounds ferociously with every step she takes.
Clouds gather along the ceiling of the studio, heavy with the weight of the emotions she’s exuding. Her movements are sharp and quick, her spins and twirls fast-paced and impeccably executed.
Watching her on the stage in Lux had been alluring. Having her dance for me, her moves had been slow and sultry. Intended to entice and seduce.
But this… this is a catharsis of the soul.
I feel as though I’m intruding on a truly intimate moment, and yet I’m helpless to look away as I watch her purge herself.
She doesn’t belong on a stage in some club. She should be dancing in opera houses for all the world to see.
As the song comes to an end, she maneuvers back into the center of the room. She seems lighter, somehow, yet I can tell by the set of her shoulders and slight pinching around her eyes that she’s still carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
The final notes play out so softly I hardly hear them as she folds her long, slim arms around herself and drops her head to the floor. Even after the song has finished playing and another has started up, she remains like that. A frozen statue except for the steady rise and fall of her shoulders with each inhale.
I should leave now, before she glances this way and spots me lurking outside. Yet, I can’t bring myself to do that. Something I can’t explain and refuse to look too deeply at has me rooted in place as she finally lifts her head, and I catch a true glimpse of her.
She’s completely unguarded, every one of her emotions exposed. She’s an open book for only me to read, and I absorb every word. I wade through the monumental pain she carries, navigate the heartache, and traverse the sharp peaks of her determination.
And all the while, I ask myself, why?
Her chest expands with a deep inhale, and I watch as she tucks each one of her feelings back into their respective boxes. Only when she’s fully back in control do I step away, turning my back on her and the studio as I head down the street.
The entire walk back to my house, I can’t stop picturing the look on her face when she lifted her head—the sheer intensity of her emotions.
Whatever she has been through doesn’t excuse her actions.
But I find myself curious to know more.
And not only to help out Grayson.
“Hey, man,” Logan greets, glancing up from his video game when I walk through the door. “How was class?”
I don’t answer as I sit down in an empty chair, still lost in my thoughts.
“Thought you said Riley lived in the student dorms?” I eventually ask.
“Fuck sake, that was a cheap shot!” he snaps at the television before tossing his controller aside and giving me his attention. “Ehh, yeah. She does. Isn’t that where all freshmen stay?”
I shrug. “Usually, but not necessarily.”
“It’s where I dropped her off after our…” He trails off, face scrunched, before he wipes his expression clean. “She didn’t correct me or ask me to drop her somewhere else.”
“Well, I just followed her to an apartment building on the far side of town.”
Logan gives an unsure shrug. “Maybe she was visiting someone.”
I arch a skeptical eyebrow. “She changed her clothes, re-emerged and went down the street to a local dance studio. Plus, her name was on the buzzer.”
Logan’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “You think she lives there?”
I lift a shoulder. “It looks that way. I’ll keep an eye on the place. See if she goes back. Shouldn’t be difficult to find out.”
The sound of the front door opening is followed by Grayson walking into the house, dressed in a smart suit.
“Where were you?” I question as he drops into a seat and tugs at his tie like it’s a noose around his neck.
“Fucking board meeting.”
