In the Air (23 page)

Natalia nodded her head as if she were agreeing to everything I had said. She turned and walked away from me.

Is it too early to start drinking?
I needed to get away from the school, away from Natalia, so I called Wren. I knew he could take my mind off of things.

"Hello?" Wren answered the phone, his speech muffled.

"Wren? What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing, dude, what do you want?"

"Wanna grab a drink?"

I heard Wren laugh and then a girl's voice in the background.

"Kinda busy at the moment." The girl started moaning and I immediately hung up. That asshole was having sex and he answered the phone.

I didn't know which direction to turn. I wasn't sure what I could do to make myself feel better. If I got drunk, that would numb the impending pain that was sure to swallow me whole. It wouldn't last. I dug my phone from my pocket and dialed a number that I knew I would later regret.

"Hi. I'm happy you picked up."

I slammed the door behind me, threw my purse across the room, and flung my body onto the bed. If I could rip my own heart out and throw it out the window, letting it fall twenty-seven floors, I would have. It would be satisfying to see it smash against the pavement, hopefully run over by several cars. It would be embedded in the ground, a bloody mess, with no clue of what it used to be. Eventually the rain would wash the remains away, leaving nothing but a red stain where my heart used to be. It was unfortunate I needed a heart to live. Without a heart, suffering wouldn't matter.

My phone rang, making me jump. I wanted it to be my dad calling. I needed to hear his voice.

"Hi, Mom." I'd avoided her calls, not wanting to give her any indication that I wasn't focusing all of my attention on dance.

"You're alive. I was getting worried," she said snidely.

"I'm fine, Mom, but sort of busy right now." I tried to rush her off of the phone, but my mother never understood when someone else was in the hurry. When she was ready, that's when the phone call would end.

"I'd like to hear about the past week. How have your teachers been? What have you learned? How many hours have you logged?" This was typical for my mother.

"It's been really great. We've mostly just been working on partnering techniques."

"So, you've been partnered. Is your partner good enough? How long has he been dancing?"

"He's great," I said softly, thinking of the way Samson's face looked after I told him I didn't want to be with him. "He's really talented."

"Why did your voice just get all fluffy sounding? You're not doing something stupid like dating him, are you?" my mother asked accusingly.

"No, Mom, you have nothing to worry about." I wasn't exactly lying to her. Now that Samson and I were over, she didn't need to know about him.

"You're making sure to practice on your off hours, correct? Natalia, you don't want to become weak."

I rolled my eyes and swallowed back the tears that were building. "I have to go," I muttered. "I haven't
logged
enough hours," I said, mocking my mother.

On our refrigerator at home, my mother had a calendar made, showing how many hours I practiced. If I didn't hit twenty-one hours each week, my mother would never let me hear the end of it. If she had heard I'd only been dancing about fifteen hours a week at Juilliard, she would have had a heart attack.

Saying goodbye, I threw my phone across the room. My body collapsed on the floor, and I cradled my legs to my chest. I wept quietly until I heard the door open and close. Opening my eyes, I saw Kingsley standing above me. Her face was filled with suspicion.

"What the fuck did he do to you?" She dropped to her knees, wrapping my body in her arms. I knew Kingsley wasn't the type to coddle anyone, but she was making an exception, which I was thankful for. She was my only friend here ... besides Samson. I was positive Samson didn't want to be on that list any longer.

"Samson didn't do anything. It was me. Well, it was Aubrey."

How do I explain what I did? Samson's ex-girlfriend convinced me that I would never be fully loved by the guy I wanted. What girl in their right mind would want to be with a guy, knowing that at any moment, they could break your heart and go back to the only girl they've ever loved.

"You're such a liar! Natalia," she grabbed my face in her hands, squeezing my cheeks together, "what did he do?"

I explained to Kingsley the events of the day. I knew she probably wouldn't understand why I would give up so easily and not fight for it, but I wasn't like her. Samson's earlier words echoed in my head.
"Could you ever be happy, knowing someone wasn't happy with you?"

"Get up." Kingsley stood and walked to her phone. "We're going out." She started texting. "What did I say? Get your ass up and get ready," she demanded.

"Kingsley, I don't really feel like going out." I reluctantly stood up. I heard my bed calling my name. All I really wanted to do was sleep until the end of the school year.

"Sweetie, you need a little Brooklyn in your life. It will do you some good."

"What will be good for me right now is sleep. That's all I want," I said while walking to my bed.

"Natalia, can I tell you something?" Without allowing me to respond, Kingsley continued. "When I had my heart broken, I didn't stop crying for weeks. When I finally stopped crying–and that was only because I had to move out of my foster parents' home–I realized how much time I had wasted. Yes, it's absolutely horrible to feel that way, but it's worse to waste your life away. Life is shit, we all know that, which is why you have to make it your bitch."

I thought about what Kingsley had said. She was right.

"Will it stop hurting so much someday?" I asked.

"No. Your heart will just be taped together and you'll learn to ignore the pain." Kingsley stayed quiet for a moment. Other than the night she told me about her adoption, it was the saddest I'd ever seen her.

Kingsley quickly changed gears and began rummaging through her closet, throwing random clothing onto her bed. She studied a short black mini-skirt for a moment before tossing it my way. "Wear it."

Once I squeezed into her skirt, I looked myself over in the large mirror hanging over my closet door.
I do look sort of hot.
To make the outfit less slutty, I paired the skirt with a baggy silk blouse and a pair of flats. As soon as Kingsley saw me trying to put on a pair of tights, she gave me a warning look.

I felt like puking. Not the food poisoning type, but the kind where it feels like someone had just punched you in the stomach. I couldn't help but wonder what Samson was doing. Was he laying in bed upset over all of this? Was he out getting drunk?

I continued looking at my phone, wanting so badly to pick it up and call him.
I can't. He hates me now.

Getting to The Commodore was a breeze. Kingsley insisted we leave after 11 P.M., telling me the hot guys don't show up until then. I wasn't on the prowl, but I couldn't let Kingsley know that. On the outside, I had to look as if I didn't care what happened between Samson and me, but inside my heart resembled a war torn city.

After entering, Kingsley led the way to the bar.

"Brad, meet Natalia, my roomie." Kingsley's arm went around my shoulder, pulling me into her side.

"Two gorgeous girls sleeping in the same room?" He turned to Kingsley and continued, "Ever thought about asking me to sleep over?" Kingsley glared at him and ordered two shots of whiskey.

"There's no way in hell I'm drinking whiskey," I informed Kingsley and ordered a beer instead.

"Suit yourself." Kingsley jumped up onto the bar stool, her skirt bunching up to show off her red lace underwear. I didn't warn Kingsley of the fact because I knew she wanted it like that.

Brad handed us our drinks and walked to the other side of the bar to help the other customers. Kingsley swallowed her shot, her face making no indication that she disliked the taste.

"You're a champ. I can't even taste a drop of that stuff without wanting to throw up," I revealed.

"I'm used to drinking the hard stuff. If you hang around me more often, maybe you'll learn to drink like an adult." Kingsley motioned to the Heineken in my hand.

I ignored her dig, as usual. Every few minutes, Kingsley's eyes would dart to the door.

"Are you waiting for someone to join us?" I asked.

"Yup. Don't worry though, there are lots of boys here that will keep you company."

"Keep me company? I came to keep
you
company."

"That's very nice of you, but your company won't be needed
all
night," Kingsley snapped back. Instead of arguing with her, I guzzled down my beer and let Brad know I needed another. After my second beer, I finally felt relaxed.

Kingsley was busy chatting up Brad, but her eyes continued looking at the entrance. I was curious if the guy she was so eager to see was the same guy she was constantly texting. I turned in my stool when I heard a deep voice call Kingsley's name.
Oh my.
Standing in front of Kingsley was one of the hottest guys I'd ever seen, well besides Samson.
They sure know how to make them on the East Coast.
He towered over Kingsley, his height commanding the attention of everyone in the bar. His dark hair was tousled, looking as if he'd just had the best sex of his life. My eyes studied his face, the perfect square jaw that moved as he spoke to Kingsley.

"Earth to Natalia," Kingsley's hand waved in front of my eyes, causing me to blink multiple times. "Did you hear a word I said?" she asked.

"No sorry ... what did you say?"

"This is Wren. Wren, this is Natalia." Wren held out his muscular hand and I noticed the letters tattooed across his fingers.

"Nice to finally meet you, Natalia. I've heard a lot about you." Not only was Wren absolutely gorgeous, he had an accent to match.

"I haven't heard a thing about you, Wren," I answered back.

His boyish laugh made me smile, the white of his teeth attracting my gaze. The only thing
boyish
about this man was his laugh.
Kingsley found herself a good one.
Wren took the stool next to Kingsley and ordered a round of shots for us. It didn't take long for me to see why Kingsley had taken such an interest in Wren. Not only was he good-looking, but he was also a brainiac. His stories of NYU and how much studying he'd been doing lately topped our stories of Juilliard. We may have danced our asses off, but it didn't come close to how exhausting it must have been to sit in the library for hours studying three foreign languages.

Wren took a sip of his beer and scooted his stool closer to Kingsley. I noticed his hand grasping hers. He leaned down and whispered softly into her ear, making Kingsley laugh wildly. It wasn't long before the two of them were rushing off to the restroom together. When I'd first heard that Kingsley had sex in a restroom, the thought grossed me out, but after seeing
who
she had sex in a restroom with, it wasn't so disgusting anymore. Thoughts of Samson popped into my head. We were in bed together just hours ago and now I was alone in a Brooklyn bar.

I had successfully numbed my sadness with three beers and a shot. Brad continued checking on me, making sure I had all I needed. If my mind wasn't so wrapped up in Samson, I would have flirted with Brad the bartender. He was cute. Tall, light blonde hair, brown eyes. His alternative style was attractive and it's what I was attracted to before Samson. Now everything had changed.

If I stand up, I will topple over.
I needed some fresh air, so I willed myself to slowly stand from my barstool and walked outside. Bumping shoulders and maneuvering my way through the crowd was a task in itself. As soon as the cool air hit my face, my head stopped spinning. I should have known that Kingsley would abandon me. All I wanted was to sleep. I'd had enough of this bar, the loud music blaring in my ears, the smell of liquor invading my senses. I looked up at the black sky, not a star in sight, and wished that I could take back everything I had told Samson. I should have told Aubrey that she needed to move on. Samson wanted me now.

My fingers dialed his number. Before I had the chance to realize what I was doing, I heard his sweet voice.