A/N: It's been 2,000 years since I've written anything but here we are. If there are any typos or whatever just let me know. Overall feedback would be greatly appreciated as I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. I hope you enjoy anyway. I'm pretty excited. Oh, also, Haven is a working title because I don't know what to call this yet, you know how it is.
A droplet of sweat slid down the side of Jasmine's face. She wiped it away with one hand, water bottle in the other. The house was in sight, she couldn't stop running now, as much as her legs wanted to. Her feet thudded on the pavement, and she was surprised nothing cracked underneath her stride. The gate to the driveway caught her as she stopped. Her water bottle clattered to the gravel. She leaned down, lungs heaving, legs burning. She panted like a dog, sweating like a pig. Strands of hair were plastered to her face, but flew away in wisps at the back of her head, long ponytail swinging as she righted herself. Then the euphoria hit. She luxuriated in the stretch as she picked up the bottle. The endorphins made her muscles feel malleable, ready to run again, but the air told her to stop. She obeyed.
Jasmine needed to shower. Her parents weren't home. They often worked weekends at the shop, so she had the house to herself to train without anyone watching. She shook out her limbs and pulled off her top, using it to wipe away the moisture on her face. The bathroom mirror watched her peel off her leggings. She whipped back the shower curtain and paused. In the bottom of the bathtub, a little energy bar lay, waiting. Jasmine had put it there before she left, but it still left her fizzing in the stomach. The plastic crackled as she sat on the edge of the bath and snapped the bar in half, swallowing one half and placing the other back into the packaging. It didn't taste of much.
The hot water scalded her back at first, but she melted into it, the white noise of the water lulling her into security. She imagined the pink skin of her back, the rope of her spine reddening with the heat. Swaying, she watched foam from her shampoo slip down the curtain. She avoided the shower gel for as long as she could. It smelled like apples and sharp tea tree. Jasmine let it foam up along her skin, pressing hard to feel the muscle, letting her arms snake through the water, washing it all off.
Her towel was rough, and she patted her face dry quickly, glaring into the mirror. She yanked it through her hair, dropped it onto the floor. The jumper she put on was soft and big, swamping her, big patches of darkened fabric on her shoulders, damp. On her way out, she picked up the other half of the energy bar, pulling it out of the packaging with her teeth. Her tongue felt like sandpaper.
Her room was clean. She inhaled that air and savoured it. The bed squeaked as she collapsed onto it, sprawling out long limbs. There was a time in her life when she couldn't reach end to end of that bed, a little girl stretching her legs across the whole thing and still not managing it, hoping week by week that she could make it. Back in those days, the bed sheets had been decorated with little embroidered ballet shoes, and she had liked to trace them with tentative fingers, smiling. Jasmine's ballet shoes weren't on her bed anymore, but tucked safely into her dance bag, ready to go. She had dreamt of being this age, and now there she was, legs aching.
When she got bored of daydreaming at the ceiling, Jasmine checked her phone. Tia had messaged her.
Do you want to go to Haven tonight? Someone from your old school is playing.
Jasmine sat up, racking her brain. She couldn't remember anyone with particular musical talent going to school with her. Not anyone who would play at Haven anyway. Who?
Maisie Marriott.
I don't know who that is. Jasmine frowned. Had she ever met a Maisie at school? She didn't think so.
She could imagine Tia rolled her eyes in the way she'd done for as long as she could remember. She'd taught Jasmine to do it too, years and years ago in Tia's little box room at the back of the house, telling her not to say anything to their parents. Jasmine had been sworn to secrecy about how she'd learned that attitude, but it was still pretty obvious. Tia's response made her uneasy. She was in your year. I remember her. She sung in your leaver's assembly. Do you really not remember?
