His Dangerous Ways✔️

Chap. 7 Alleyways and Identities

Chap. 7 Alleyways and Identities

"Liam I'll be fine," I groaned as I double checked my dance bag to make sure that I had every possible dance shoe that I owned. "Now go off and..do what everything you do and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Liam's voice asked through my phone for the billionth time.

"Yes!" I said also for the billionth time. God Liam's annoying.

"Call me when you're done and I'll come to pick you up," he said.

"No it's fine," I said as I zipped up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. "It's only a seven-minute walk from my house. I'll survive without a car."

Liam's side was quiet for a while, making me think that he'd hung up, before I heard a sigh, letting me know that he'd given in. "Fine," he grumbled. "But let me know when you get home."

"Gosh, Liam, you're not my dad," I groaned once more and I could practically feel him rolling his eyes.

"Let me remind you again, that I am the one your father put in charge of you, so I have to do this or he and his whole brigade will be up my butt."

"Yeah, yeah," I sighed as I looked at myself in the mirror to make sure that my hair was in a perfect ballerina bun.

"Talk to you in a bit," he said.

"Bye," I said before the line clicked dead. I picked my phone up off the sink edge before I tucked it into my bag and headed downstairs. As soon as I stepped outside, a cool autumn breeze washed over me, causing a small smile to appear on my face. I popped my earphones in my ears as I started on my short journey to the dance studio.

I quietly hummed along with Matty as Someone Else by the 1975 blasted into my ears and through my soul. Four minutes and two songs later, I pulled open the doors to my dance studio and was welcomed by the familiar sounds of music, tap shoes, and dance moms being dance moms.

Home sweet home.

"Cat!" A familiar voice called out causing me to smile as my eyes landed on who it belonged to.

"Hi Mrs. Kate!" I greeted as I pulled her into a hug. I'd known Mrs. Kate ever since I was three, which is when I started dancing, and ever since, she'd been like the mother I never had. She was a few months older than my father with chestnut brown hair that had a few gray hairs here and there, she had warm brown eyes, and she stood at about 5'5.

"How have you been dear?" She asked as we broke the hug.

"Good," I replied as my eyes scanned over the five studios that we had until my eyes landed on a vacant one. "Is studio four open?"

"All yours, dear," she said, causing a smile to take its place on my face before I pulled her into another hug before running into the studio.

After I closed the door and synced my phone to the stereo, I quickly peeled off the North Carolina sweater and gray sweat pants I was wearing leaving me in my black leotard and pink tights. I quickly put on my pointe shoes and turned on my Dance playlist before I grabbed the bars and started stretching.

After about thirty-five minutes of stretching, I moved the bars and practiced a few combinations consisting of pirouettes, soutenus, fouetté turns, and much more. Once I felt thoroughly warmed up, I turned on Twenty One Pilots's cover of Cancer and closed my eyes, allowing the music to tell me how it wanted to be represented.

I felt my heart swell as my body moves and twists. Once the song was over, I felt a few tears fell down my face, but I quickly wiped them away. After about fifty more minutes of ballet, I switched over to lyrical, then tap, then finally contemporary. By the time I was done, it was 9:57 and sweat was running down my face.