Fiction/Young Adult
Worth the Risk — Chapter Eight
Are you willing to lose it all
“Spill it. What happened?” Amber took my hand and pulled me up towards the gate of the driveway.
“Nothing. What happened between you and Ricky?”
I didn’t want to go over how I was falling for Marcus. She would try to talk me into her little scheme of things, using them to irritate our parents, the other transfer girls at school, and every other boy who wanted us.
That was vain, but it was the truth.
“Oh, this and that—nothing too major. We were both completely inebriated and slept most of the night inside his car at the bar.” Amber slapped me on the ass. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving, bitch.”
“There was an issue with an accidental hit upside the head, so I decided to call it a night and left.”
Amber looked confused about the whole incident and waved her hand for me to continue. She pressed in the code for the gate, and it slid open, allowing us to enter. Her shoulder nudged mine. “Last I saw you and Marcus were getting kind of cozy with each other.”
“Things were going okay.” I didn’t want to make too big of a deal about it. “Then Gabby sort of hit me in the head with the soda bottle when he and I were talking. I didn’t want to get into some wicked argument, so I left.”
Amber shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t understand why Gabby has it out for you. Ricky told me nothing was going on between Gabby and Marcus, but maybe she doesn’t know that.” Amber opened the door to the house and waved me through. “Marcus wasn’t there the rest of the night, did he go with you?” She shut the door, and we walked up to the second floor, where her bedroom was.
I sat down on the loveseat in Amber’s sitting room. She had a sixty-inch TV mounted on the wall in front of us, playing some sort of reality show. She plopped down beside me and waited for me to answer her question.
“He drove me home. He wouldn’t let me drive because he said I’d drunk too much, and he was the designated sober one for the night.”
“Did he spend the night?” Amber smacked herself on the forehead. “Of course he did, that’s why he came with you over here.”
“He was going to call his cousin to come get him, but I told him it was too late, so he might as well sleep over.” Amber looked like she wanted more information on what may have happened when he stayed over. “We slept in the guesthouse, nothing happened.”
I wasn’t going to spill out everything. It looked like this morning he would rather forget anything that happened between us, so I was going to do what he wanted.
“You guys looked so perfect together last night. You were getting along really good when I saw you out in the parking lot.” Amber turned the channel on the TV to some random movie that had a guy and a girl in a very compromising position.
“Obviously, a one-time thing. Maybe he didn’t like the way I kissed.”
“Are you kidding me? He was all into you. My God, his eyes never left you all night.” Amber took out her phone and started to text someone.
“Who are you texting?” It better not be who I thought it was.
“Ricky. I’ll find out what’s going on.”
“No. Don’t.” I tried to grab the cell phone out of her hand, but she held it away from me and jumped up.
Five seconds later, her phone beeped, and Ricky had texted back. They did this off and on for another few minutes, then she sat back down with a big smile on her face.
“What?” They were talking about me, so it was her job to tell me what was said.
“Well.” Amber drew out the word like it was the start of some sort of revelation. “I was texting with Marcus since Ricky was driving. He wouldn’t give out any information, but he did say you and he have to talk.”
“I don’t have much to say, so I don’t know what he wants to talk about.” There was a lot I wanted to say and ask but did I want to hear the answers.
“Chels, I think you’re holding out on me.” Amber shook her finger at me. “I’m gonna find out, so you might as well spill.”
“We kissed, nothing else.”
“Whatever, Chels.” Amber looked like she was done with this conversation, which was a relief. I didn’t want to dwell on something that apparently meant nothing.
After our two-hour movie and snacks, I drove back home.
Even though it was probably killing her to know what had happened, Amber didn’t bring up Marcus again. She told me she and Ricky messed around, nothing too serious, and then just fell asleep together in the back seat of his car.
They had plans for this coming weekend but didn’t know the exacts of what was going on. She invited me and said Marcus would be going since the party was in his town, but I said I’d have to check and see what was going on with dance and recitals that were coming up.
No one was around when I finally got back home. I checked the guesthouse, and it looked like the cleaning crew had already cleaned up the mess we made last night. Not that there was much to pick up except for some water bottles and dirty clothes Marcus had worn.
I glanced at the sofa on my way back out of the room and thought back to the memory of last night. Thinking about the evening made me feel alive.
‘Stop thinking about him, Chelsey.’
I had to put him out of my mind. It was a one-night thing, nothing more and nothing less.
I closed the front door behind me and walked back up to the main house, leaving all my memories tucked away in the back of my mind.
I ended up taking a small nap and was woken up by the sound of my phone’s incoming text buzzing.
I read the message from Amber and tossed the phone back down on my bed. She wanted to tell me about the party this weekend, which was being held at one of Ricky’s cousin’s houses. She also said I better find a way to get my ass there.
The time was almost seven in the evening, and my stomach grumbled from lack of food. I had to eat before I started working on my dance routine that was going to be showcased at the next performance.
Once again, no one was about when I dragged my ass downstairs to the kitchen. Thankfully, Rowena, our housekeeper and cook, left me a plate of food covered up in the oven. She made the best of everything, and I dove right into the chicken stir-fry.
Unlike my parents, who had no clue about my likes and dislikes, Rowena knew I had to eat light with my upcoming recitals for dance. She always made sure I had fresh vegetables and fruits around so I could stay in relatively good health. Plus, I didn’t have to worry too much about the skimpy outfits we had to wear since my diet was usually light and I was extremely active.
I finished half the plate that she filled, which was always to the rim since she always told me I needed to eat more, then put the rest away in case I wanted it later.
I walked back upstairs and went into the bedroom beside my own. I had it remodeled last year into a small dance studio for myself. My parents had permitted me to do what I wanted with it since they never came up to this end of the second floor, so I hired a designer, and they created a replica of a dance area that would support any type of dance. I’d become proficient in almost every dance taught to me, even the newest steps that were seen in most top musician’s performances.
I put on some jazz music so I could do my usual warm-up routine to loosen up all my muscles for the next two-hour grinding practice I had to do.
I needed to have this perfected since rumor had it from my dance instructor that there may be Broadway recruiters in the audience at the next recital in a month. They’d shown an interest in me, and of course, I nearly freaked out when my instructor told me, but they wanted to wait and see how everything was going during my graduation year.
So here I was in my senior year, having a huge Broadway production company interested in me for dance but knowing I’d have to decline any offer extended. I would be disowned by my family and thrown out without any accommodations, and all finances, including having my college paid for, would be shut off from any use.
Two and a half hours later, after tons of sweat and aggression poured out, I collapsed on the hardwood floor. That was one of the most intense routines I’d ever done.
I incorporated a bit of everything into it; jazz, ballet, Latin, contemporary, and street-style dance steps. The chosen music was a compilation I had one of my musically inclined friends from the studio create. The selection incorporated the style of music to the stages of the type of dance I was performing at that moment.
I crawled my way over to the small refrigerator and pulled out an ice-cold water bottle. I tossed the plastic bottle into the garbage can when there was nothing left after my ten-second chug.
I slowly got up and made my way into the bath in my bedroom. I had a soaking tub that resembled a hot tub, which I cranked up to high heat to soothe my aching muscles.
I soaked for a good thirty minutes, trying to relax and not think about Marcus. Too bad that didn’t happen. I thought about him the whole time I practiced dance and the whole time I relaxed my body in the heated tub. If he could be here next to me, making me feel as good as he did last night, it would be a perfect ending to the weekend.