Founded on Goodbye by Kat Singleton

Well, I’ll be damned. Color me fucking speechless.

This girl can move her body in ways I’ve never seen.

I’ve been around dancers for as long as I’ve had a music career, but how she completely loses herself in the music captivates me in ways I’ll never fess up to.

And nothing captures my attention like this anymore.

Her passion for dance is clear as day as she extends her body in different positions—to my lyrics. Lyrics that are personal and etched all over my soul.

I feel anger boil beneath my skin at how her love for dance is apparent in every move she makes. That same passion and love used to seep out of every lyric I wrote. It was buried in every chord I strung.

Now that love and passion is long gone. Left in its wake is nothing but desolate indifference.

But damn if I can look at anything but her body in the middle of the dance floor. She looks so small in the middle of the studio. All the other dancers line the walls, leaving so much empty space for her to move in.

My brief moment of looking away from her solidifies that every other pair of eyes in the room is also on her.

It’s hard to look anywhere else but at her. She brings the lyrics to life. We’re all entranced with how she uses every inch of the dance floor before her to her advantage.

Nora leaps into the air at the same moment the chorus builds up. As soon as her feet touch the floor again, she uses the momentum to spin her body around multiple times in perfect time with the crescendo of the song.

I can’t look away as she folds her body to the floor, using her body to tell a story out of every lyric I wrote.

I forget how each and every one of the lyrics she tells the story to was written about my ex, the girl who broke my heart. The girl who ruined me for everyone else. Taylor is only a distant memory as I watch Nora rewrite every lyric in my head, with only her in mind now.

Shaking my head, I rid the thought as quick as it had come.

She’s just fucking dancing. Her being able to take my lyrics and attach a story to them with her body isn’t anything special. Any dancer in this room can do that. And I need to get that straight in my mind—right fucking now.

She just caught me at a weak moment earlier, and for some reason now, she’s taking up a small space in my head when she shouldn’t be. She’s nothing. And I’m angry at myself for still wanting her on tour with me.

Her body lifts from the ground slowly, showcasing her flexibility as she extends her leg into the air. The song is about to end—thank fuck. I don’t even wait to see how she decides to end her solo. I’ve seen enough as it is.

The screeching of my chair against the floor harmonizes with the ending chords of the song. Standing up and angling my body toward the doors, I feel the pressure of all the eyes previously on her now at my back.

“Nash, sit back down,” Monica hisses, her finger pointing at my vacated chair.

“Why, Monica?” I laugh over my shoulder. “I didn’t want to fucking be here in the first place. Plus—” I look at Nora in the middle of the floor, her chest heaving from deep breaths, an unreadable look on her face. We keep direct eye contact with my next words. “No one has impressed me.”

“We still have more than half the list to go through!” Monica whispers the words out of the corner of her mouth, keeping a tight smile on her face.

Judging by the look on her face, she’s anything but happy underneath that fake smile she’s completely seething through. And once again, her anger is directed right at me.

Surprise, surprise.

Deciding to ignore her, I head toward the door. Coming here was a mistake. All the eyes on me make my skin itch. I hate that they’ve likely just seen a reaction out of me after watching Nora dance.

Hopefully they all thought I hated it.

But the truth is, that no one who leaps around like a damn ballerina belongs on my tour.

What I pray these people didn’t see was that I could barely look away from her; that watching her take my lyrics and turn them into something completely different opened up a part of me I wanted to stay closed for the rest of my life.

I’ve known this Nora girl for upwards of an hour, and somehow she’s already clawing at parts of me that have been dead for years. What’s worse is that I don’t think she’s even trying to do it.

More often than not, women throw themselves at me. They’re putty in my hands. The women around me are always acting a part. I haven’t even known Nora for a full day, but the interaction with her seemed real. Too real.

And the fact that she can fucking dance like that has me seeing red.

I can’t have her on my tour.

I can’t be in such close proximity with her.

I want absolutely nothing to do with her.

But also, I want a front row seat to every single time she ever moves her body like that.

I want to watch her take words that have poured out from my heart, my soul, and put her own twist on them.

The need is new for me, and quite frankly, it’s uncomfortable. I hate it.

I’m so damn lonely recently that I’m becoming all too soft for the first woman I’ve had a genuine interaction with.

It’s fucking pathetic.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I tell my driver to meet me in the back of the studio. Sebastian and Matt both wait for me outside the doors, and I fall in line behind them on the way to the back door.

As I climb into the back of the SUV, lucky to have somehow avoided the frenzy of fans, I scroll through my recent messages.

As I scroll, I find three missed texts from my younger brother, Aiden. I make a mental note to call him when I get the chance. At nineteen, he’s having the time of his life in college. From the stories he tells me, I’m not sure how much learning he’s actually doing. It sounds like he’s majoring in frat parties and sorority girls. I quickly fire off a text to him, letting him know I’ll call him later.

Thumbing through the rest of my messages, I decide to text the model I met at an award show a few weeks ago. We make plans for later tonight. I don’t care where we go. The paparazzi can swarm the club I take her to for all I care. I just need to get my mind off the weird experience that was the last hour of my life.

One thing is for sure: Nora will be the last thing on my mind tonight. You can sure as hell count on that.