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As she flips through her clipboard, I watch how seriously she takes this. She acts like a chaperone touring kids through Europe.

“Shannon and Sean, you guys will be in Room 405.”

Handing them their room keys, they jump like schoolgirls and race to the bronze-mirrored elevators.

I can’t help but visibly show my irritation.

“Taylor and Sofia, you guys will be in Room 409.”

I flinch at the use of my real name.

Looking beside me, Taylor’s smile is small. Smaller than it’s ever been with me and gone quicker too. She grabs our key, and before we even take a step toward the elevator, she reaches into the pocketed paper and hands me one.

“Thanks,” I say shyly, the tension between us thick and uncomfortable.

She nods in response.

“You girls good?” Rika asks, her black frames that I’m convinced aren’t even prescription pushed up into her slick hairdo.

“All good,” I voice as Taylor trails ahead of me, avoiding the closeness we once loved to press the button on the elevator. Us not being close anymore is my fault. I deserve the cold shoulder she gives me; I really do.

I left her by herself that night.

I didn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t. Worse than that, I didn’t text her after either, and I didn’t return her texts. I was a zombie for so many days, that by the time we had our final auditions and booked the tour, the damage was already done. There wasn’t any story that I could come up with that could make things better.

Not one that I was willing to share, at least.

Our room is beautiful, to be expected. I’m grateful that Haven doesn’t skimp on stuff like this. Looking at the clock, we’ve got some time before our rehearsal. After only a plate of unsatisfying protein snacks and a green juice, I’m starving for real food.

“I was going to go grab some food. Want me to bring you back anything?” I try my shot at mending things the best way I know how, with food.

“I don’t like to really eat before practice.”

Taylor’s answer lacks convincing. I know she likes to eat before and after rehearsals. She was always the one telling me I needed to eat more to fuel my body.

“Since when?” I can’t help but ask.

“It’s a new thing, I guess.” Her tone clips just slightly, laced with spite and irritation.

“Okay then. Text me if you change your mind.”

When my bags are stowed away, I grab my duffel, room key, and an extra pair of sweats before slipping out the door.

After the longest and most pointless rehearsal of my life, we’re finally dismissed. I’m grateful for a calm practice, but dance is my release. It’s how I escape…everything.

Thankful for the luxe hotel amenities, I bypass my floor on the elevator, pressing the button that leads to the gym.

When I open the large, sprayed glass door, I’m jumping inside to see two separate rooms attached to the one housing all the equipment.

Empty ones, at that.

Rushing inside, I set my belongings by the wall of mirrors and dig for the extra pair of sweats I’d slipped in my bag earlier.

I don’t have a problem with our tour sweats, but they’re just rhinestoned to all hell, and for me, they’re a little restrictive. Trading the pink ones for dark grey, I let the material hang low on my hips, my compression spandex making up for the leftover size difference.

I couldn’t tell you who these sweats belong too—definitely a hookup.

Taking it all in, I embrace the glossy hardwood floor, relishing the first real moment of silence I’ve had all day.