Fragments (26 page)

“Yeah, I know I am definitely not as loved anymore!” He sighs dramatically. I can picture him now with his hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. Jerk. I lift a box that contains my shoes and bring it closer to the door. Reaching for the duct tape, I peel it back and then begin taping the box.
              “What are you doing?” Kyle asks.

“Taping up my shoes.”

“Why bother with the tape when Robbie’s apartment is ten minutes away?”

I frown at his question. Typical male.  I annunciate slowly, “Because Kylieeeeee,” he snorts at my pet name, “shoes are
very
important and I don’t want any of mine to fall out if some big oaf couldn’t be arsed looking after the box. Anyway, you better not screw this happily-ever-after up—or this will all be a wasted effort.”

“You gals and your shoes. Regan has a million pairs and I swear I only see her wear the same maybe three or four pairs … Bloody ridiculous. As for the happily-ever-after—I cannot wait for it to start. ”

I sigh at his endearment. He says the loveliest things. I also begin laughing, as he is totally right. My housemate Regan had a shelf full, but always wore the same couple of pairs.

“Anyway, I have to continue packing. What were you ringing for again?”

“Just to check how packing was going and seeing if you have a voodoo doll with my name on it as I am the reason why you’re leaving …?” He trails off.

“Packing is good. You are not in the doghouse. I’m far too lazy to voodoo your arse. Besides, you get to move in properly and be with your fiancée the way you’re supposed to, in your new place without me crowding you.” Leaning against the lounge room wall, I survey the room and double check for anything else that is mine. It feels surreal moving out, after living with Regan for three years. I am going to miss her, but I am really thrilled for them. They are moving to a nicer part of town and are really excited.

“Hey, I should be thanking you. If you didn’t remain friends with me after our pathetic relationship, I would have never met her. So yeah, thanks.”

“Okay, okay,” I whine. “Don’t get sentimental. Just name your first-born child after me. You got the girl; now unpack your shit and move into your new place! I have to bounce, so I will see you later.”

We end the call and I continue looking around. There are so many fabulous memories in this apartment. Regan is also a dancer, so it was great to have someone to vent to after the gruelling workshops we had each week. Yesterday, in particular was especially awful. 

“Honestly! I cannot believe this! Get your lines in order!” Craig paced back and forth; hand on his hip, scowling at us. “You would think that after how many years of professional dance you would get it!”

I bit back my tongue as I adjusted my feet next to Josh.  Straightening my left arm, I curved my right one out while looking in the distance. Our director, Craig, was watching me.  With a raised eyebrow, he pursed his lips as he examined my posture. My reflection behind him showed that I was where I needed to be. The same as I was last time. When he broke eye contact, I quickly flicked my eyes across the mirror at the other dancers. Bugging my eyes out at Josh, he smirked then his face became impassive. We were ready to go.  

              The music began as our bodies synchronized in time with the melody. As I turned towards my right, my right arm swayed quickly before curling under and turning me behind.  Just as I stepped into the next position, the music stopped—footsteps stormed by my side as Craig marched up to one of the girls in the back row.              

“What did I say?” he barked, “get your lines in order!!!”  Mandy flinched.  Craig threw his arms up in the air in a huff. “Are we going to be here all day?! Formation!” We returned to our positions and began again.  He stalked up the centre until his stance and his gaze softened momentarily on Leticia. I rolled my eyes. This routine wasn’t difficult, it just lacked any passion. Our movements were languid, simple yet apathetic. We weren’t connected to it. For  a dancer, the more you connected to the song, the better you can feel your way through it. That is what the audience wants to see. Instead, we felt like trees in the wind, existing but barely alive. I had been feeling this way with each song lately, and I couldn’t seem to shake it.  I wish Cody, the other choreographer, was here; he gave us the passion we needed. 

I shake my shoulders, clearing my head of yesterday’s class. I had some serious thinking to do about this fog I was in. Taping up the box, I shift it towards the other boxes in the room. The removal truck I hired was parked outside, and I am just waiting on some of my male dancing friends to arrive to help load it. I am nervous. Since I’d confirmed my new residence, Alex had started texting me. No calls, just texts. I guess he was still uncomfortable around me I wanted desperately to be over it, but sadly, my stupid heart wants more. I crave him still. Ugh. I
will
lock that crap down.

I look at my watch and see that the boys will be here in ten minutes. So, with a hesitant step, I stroll around the apartment, double and triple checking that all my stuff is packed. By the time I walk back into the lounge room, knocking sounds at the door. Walking over and opening it, I see the guys, Aiden and Josh standing there, with Aiden’s latest fling, Becca.

“Hey guys!” I greet them, while moving to the side and letting them in. Josh walks in first, followed by the others.

“All set for the big move?” he asks.

“Yeah, kinda. It sucks moving, but I’ll get over it,” I reply. “Okay, let’s get started.”

The boys begin with my bedroom furniture and as I don’t have much else, it doesn’t take long to load up the truck. I give the apartment one more look and place my key on the kitchen bench. Regan is at work, and to be honest, I want to avoid any emotional crap. We have already decimated a few tubs of ice cream while drinking a couple of bottles of wine when she packed all her things, paying for it in class the next day.

             
The boys jump in the moving truck, while Becca and I hop in my little 2002 Holden Barina. It is ten years old, bright red, and I love it. I can zip around town, and since parking in the city is usually a nightmare, it helps to be able to squeeze in more easily than most.

We drive away from my old apartment and head towards Robbie’s. In the two years since he had bought it, I had only visited it twice. Both times were when I knew that Alex was back home visiting. After Nick’s twenty-first, I hadn’t seen him. The snippets I heard, though, about his and Robbie’s escapades, I tried to shut out. Fury would burn through me to think he was still screwing around and being an arsehole. The one time I ran into his mother at the supermarket, I knew that even she barely knew her son anymore when she said he was studying business, when in fact it was physiotherapy. She’d just checked out of his life.

*              *              *              *              *

              Arriving at the apartment, I take a deep breath and walk up to the door ready to face Alex. The boys and Becca trail behind me as I head towards the front door. Our apartment sits snugly between two others that look identical on the outside. There is a small backyard covered by a patio on the top level of the building, which I am intending on using a lot to chill out or even dance, as it’ll give me the space to do so.                                                        

              I barely have my arm up to knock when the door swings suddenly away from my fingertips. There in front of me stands a bigger built, shorter-haired, broody looking Alex, who has decided to grow a small goatee. Damn. He is even better looking than the last time I saw him. My hair is falling out of my top knot as strands tickle the back of my neck. Standing in my cut-off shorts and an old tank top, I suddenly feel very self-conscious. I take a deep breath and put on a smile. I am not going to let him and that sexy goatee get to me.

“Alex,” I say, “great to see you.” Turning, I point to the crew behind me. “These are my moving buddies, Aiden and Josh, and this is Becca.”

Alex smiles and steps forward, pulling me into his arms for a hug.

“Hey, Bea-Bea, long time no see. Great to have you here.” I freeze momentarily and then relax my body so I don’t look too obvious. If he notices, he doesn’t show it. He gives me a quick squeeze and then releases me.

“Okay, let’s get you moved in.”

He steps back as we walk through to check out my new residence. It has been a while since I was here last and not much has changed.  The kitchen and dining area are up the back with the bedrooms on the left. Alex’s door is closed as I make my way to the spare room, which is now mine.  Pale grey walls, a drawn grey curtain, and dark carpet are all I see in the empty room. It is all very masculine. The colour scheme carries throughout the house, as each room has been given its touch.

This clean and
boring
bachelor pad, (apart from the pin-up girl posters in the lounge) is in dire need of a feminine touch. I might just buy some pink crap to throw around to help block out some testosterone, or maybe sprinkle some glitter.

The guys and I shuffle my belongings for the next hour into the apartment. It is surprisingly easy being near Alex again. Aiden remembers him from our hometown, and they chat easily enough, but Alex is a bit standoffish to Josh.              

              Once the boxes are in my room and lounge room, we sit in the lounge room drinking the beers that I bought the boys in gratitude. We aren’t supposed to drink while we are participating in the intense dance workshops, but we take delight in sneaking a cheeky beer here and there—revenge against our dickhead director. Aiden and Becca are slumped next to Alex on the three-seater couch and I am on the other couch with Josh, enjoying the ottoman. My shoulder feels tight from lifting the boxes, so I rub it while listening to the insipid conversation between Becca and Alex.

“So,” Becca says, while
flicking her hair
, (I didn’t realise I was in a teen movie), “you’re, like, a physio? You must be really great with your hands.”

I stop rubbing my shoulder in shock with my mouth agape. Did she really just say that? Before I can shoot Aiden a look of,
WTF?
Alex responds, with, “You have no idea.” Followed by a wink.

I roll my eyes and look at Aiden. His brow is scrunched in confusion, but I can’t make eye contact with him. I look across and Alex is looking at me. I break from his gaze and go back to rubbing my shoulder. Before too long, Josh pushes my hands away and says in my ear, “Let me, pretty girl.”

I sigh as his thumbs dig into my shoulders in delicious circles. A moan escapes my lips as he continues to follow the tension in my shoulders and up to my neck. I roll my neck forward as the ache subsides.  Josh is amazing at massages. All of us have gone to him at one stage or another if we have a kink in our bodies. That’s the thing with performing arts—in our friendship group we are a touchy-feely bunch. It was just how we are. 

I shift to the floor in front of his knees and lean back, closing my eyes.

I listen to the endless array of inappropriate questions that Becca asks Alex, like, "Have you ever had to touch someone in a private area?" or "Has there been a really grotesque person that made you vomit so you didn't help them?"

Alex answers each question back nicely, but his tone is off. I chuckle, as his flirty tone is long gone and it’s so obvious he is about to lose it. Josh shifts behind me and leans in close to my left ear, away from everyone else. 

"Um, Trice .. Alex keeps giving me evil looks. Is he gonna hit me or something?"

I guffaw and quickly cover my mouth. Opening my eyes, I turn left to face him and whisper, "No, doofus, he's about to lose it at Becca's inappropriate questions."

He pulls his lips in tight and briefly flicks his eyes to Alex.

"Um, no, Trice. Look at him." I turn, smiling at his misinterpretation but it soon is wiped off my face as my gaze collides with the steel grey eyes of Alex. His shoulders are still and he is cracking his knuckles. I gasp. Josh notices and leans forward, asking, "All good?"

My back stiffens as I am shocked by Alex's gaze. Looking back at him, I snipe, “I was until iceman over here, got chilly.”

Alex flinches, leans forward, and hisses, "Does Kyle know about him?" My mouth gapes. He nods his chin to Josh. “Geez, man, why do you keep touching her like that? You don't feel up someone else's girl."

"What are you talking about?" I shriek.

"Josh is touching you inappropriately," he states simply.

"He is not!"

"He fucking is too, Trice," he barks.

"So, I’m still Trice?” I mock, glaring back at him, my jaw locked as I answer. “I had a sore shoulder. He’s just fixing it. He’s done it before.”

Alex’s gaze darkens. Ignoring my jibe about my nickname, he turns to Josh and mutters,

"Josh, would you be upset if someone was hitting on your girlfriend?”

Josh stammers, "I … um … how should I put this?"

"Answer the question!” Alex roars. “If someone hit on your other half …"

"Shut up, Alex! What has gotten into you?” I huff. “It's not what you think. Anyway, you’re the one to talk, Mr Flirty, with Aiden's piece … I mean, girl there," I snap. Becca’s eyes narrow on me, but I barely pay any attention.