Founded on Goodbye by Kat Singleton

I’m in the midst of eating a triple chocolate layer cake in my dream when an incessant poking persists at my face.

Groaning, I pull my blanket over my face and roll away from whatever is poking at me.

“Nora,” Riley hisses. “Don’t you have rehearsals today?”

My eyes pop open. Instantaneously, I’m sitting up in bed and searching for my phone.

“Jesus!” she shrieks, jumping back. “I didn’t think someone that was fast asleep two seconds ago could move that fast.”

“No, no, no, no,” I plead, my hands feeling around my bed in hopes of finding my phone.

“Looking for this?” Riley smiles, wiggling my phone in her hands.

She’s already dressed for the day in a pair of form-fitting dress pants and a sleeveless blouse. I, on the other hand, am pretty sure my old dance company T-shirt has a wet spot from my own drool.

Snagging my phone from her hand, my stomach drops when I see the time. “Shit! I’m supposed to be at rehearsals in less than an hour.”

I dart across my small bedroom and pull open a dresser drawer to find a pair of leggings. My hands are digging around in the drawer when she starts talking again.

“Well, I figured. Hence why I could be late to my job because I took the time to wake your lazy ass up.” Riley smiles again, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Shut up,” I mumble as I strip out of my sleep shorts before pulling on my favorite pair of leggings. “This is all your fault to begin with. I’m never late. But somehow you convinced me to go out last night when I was this close,” I hold up my fingers, a small amount of space between my thumb and index finger, “to going to bed at nine.”

Riley makes her way out of my bedroom, yelling at me as she makes her way into the hallway. “Please, Nora. No one our age should be going to bed at nine. Plus, you didn’t seem to mind the late night when you ordered that glass of wine.”

I’m too busy pulling on a sports bra supportive enough to withstand rehearsals to respond to her.

The truth is, I was trying to ease my nerves of this being the first tour rehearsal where Nash would be there. That glass of wine sounded like a great way to take my mind off seeing him again. Now I’m full of regrets as I fight this killer headache.

I somehow manage to wash my face and get my hair brushed in record time. I’m vigorously brushing my teeth when a text from Ziggy pops up on my phone.

Ziggy:Stopping to get coffee. Late night. ;) Want any?

The toothbrush rests against my cheek as my fingers glide over my screen.

Nora: You’re my hero! My usual, please. In the biggest size they offer.

Ziggy: All that sugar is going to kill you one day.

Ignoring him, I spit out the minty taste and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I don’t have any extra time to put makeup on, so the only thing on my face is my tinted moisturizer.

After flipping off the light to my bathroom, I grab my dance bag off the chair in the corner of my room. I fill up my water bottle quickly and am out the door shortly after.

Lucky for me, karma is in fact on my side today. Somehow there’s little to no traffic on my way to the studio, and I’m pushing the doors open to the building with five minutes to spare.

I find Ziggy stretching in a corner of the room, two coffees sitting next to his bag.

“Nice of you to join us,” he teases.

Setting my bag down on the opposite side of the coffees, I fall to the floor next to him and take a deep breath in. I’m just happy that somehow, I made it before Nash or Monica showed up to rehearsals.

Today might not be as shitty as I thought it’d be when I woke up late this morning. But I’m still fighting a mild hangover. “I need coffee.”

Without even giving him more of a response, I grab what I know is my iced coffee by how much lighter it is in color. I suck a third of the large drink down, letting the caffeine run through my body.

“Damn. Was it a late night for you, too?” he asks.

I groan, setting the coffee down and starting my own stretching. “Yes. Riley coerced me into going out. I almost overslept.”

Ziggy tsks. “That would not be a great first impression for Nash. Especially since you’re almost always early.” He holds out his hands, waiting for me to place my hands in his.

Spreading my legs to match my feet with his, he begins to lean back, pulling me forward with the motion. I can feel the stretch in my thighs and lower back. He pulls harder, straining my muscles even more.

I don’t bother to tell Ziggy I’ve kind of already had a first impression with Nash. It’s not like much came from that small conversation we had. And he’s right, I would have died in a pit of embarrassment if I was late to this rehearsal.

I also would’ve been terrified to face Monica’s wrath over it.

“Yeah, well, it’s the last time I let Riley talk me into going out for a while. I don’t know what I’ll do if the coffee doesn’t make this headache go away.”

Ziggy sits up, and we switch positions. My shoulder blades are nearing the floor when Nash, Monica, and someone I don’t know walk through the door.

Nash’s eyes pass over us briefly before Derrick jogs across the dance floor and exchanges words with the three of them.

The other dancers and I continue to stretch and warm up, waiting for Derrick or Lizzie to give us a cue on where they want us.

Finally, we’re called up to start with Here For a Good Time. We each take our place as Lizzie walks Nash through on where he’ll begin.

I’m staring at his back, taking in the pair of athletic shorts he has on as well as the sleeveless T-shirt. Even from behind, I can see the definition of the muscles in his shoulders. With his arms pulled in front of him, I can’t see all of them, but I know from previous inspection that his arms are just as chiseled as the rest of him.

We manage to run through the number a handful of times pretty smoothly. I have to give Nash credit, for how much he seems to hate dancing, he catches on quickly. And, he’s good at it.

During our latest run through, he only had a few errors. And those were pretty minor. For the most part, he’s caught on. Which, to be honest, surprises me. I guess he still has some of his boyband-past left in him, because he can dance—and he can dance well.

We spend the better half of our day practicing Here For a Good Time until it’s run from top to bottom almost flawlessly. Derrick lets us out two hours earlier than normal, telling us he’s giving us a Friday reward. I think it’s because we’ve impressed him and managed to nail the opening number, with Nash included this time, and that was his only real goal for the day.

Ziggy and a few other dancers and I are discussing our weekend plans when I accidentally bump into Nash. I swear he wasn’t in my direct path the last time I looked, but somehow he’s ended up here.

Judging by the scowl on his face, he isn’t pleased with the small mishap. “Sorry.” I smile up at him while the rest of the group continues walking to their bags. “I must’ve been distracted.” Going to side-step him, I’m shocked when he moves to block my path.

His eyes make contact with mine for a split second before he looks over my shoulder. Leaning in closer, his mouth lines up with my ear as he says, “Pay more attention next time.”

And then he struts over to the choreographers like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Asshole.

* * *

I’m on the ground, rifling through my backpack for my car keys, when a pair of sneakers lands next to my knee.

“Hey, Nora,” Derrick says, giving me a wide smile. “Can I grab you for a minute?”

I nod, nervous he’s about to tell me I did something wrong today.

My backpack makes a thump against the hardwood as I give up on my search for my keys. It turns out I don’t need them quite yet anyway.

“Sweet, over here.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder and all I do is silently follow behind him. There’s a sinking in my stomach as we near the corner where Nash, Lizzie, Monica, and the guy from earlier whose name I’m unsure of talk quietly.

Derrick gently grabs me by the elbow, ushering me into the small circle of people.

“Nora, meet part of Nash’s team. There’s Nash, Monica, his manager, you obviously know Lizzie, and then Tyson, Nash’s publicist.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” I hope my words come out more confident than I feel. Pushing the hair out of my face, I look at Derrick questioningly.

“You might be wondering why you’re over here,” Derrick begins. “To begin with, I just have to say, you’re killing it at rehearsals. I mean damn, Nora. You’ve got so much talent.”

Oh thank god. My racing heart is a clear indicator that I thought I was about to get kicked off the tour, the proposition from Monica and Nash’s team all but forgotten.

“Thank you.” I smile up at him, trying to ease the dread that was forming in my stomach.

“She’s just doing her job,” Nash murmurs, scrolling through his phone like this is the last place he wants to be.

Derrick’s eyes narrow at Nash momentarily before he regains his composure and looks back at me. “Okay, anyway, I’ll get to the point. Lizzie and I have been going through the whole setlist and what we envision for the choreography for each song. As you know, we’ve told you there are a few songs you won’t be dancing to. But there is one you aren’t on that, after further team discussions, we think would work best if you were.”

Nash laughs, shoving his phone in his pocket angrily. “What team? I know nothing about this.” He looks over at Monica, clearly waiting for an explanation.

She looks him dead in the eye. “We’ve talked about this. You haven’t wanted to be in on any of the tour prep. Every single meeting we’ve had that has to do with your tour has been on your calendar. This is just another thing you didn’t want to be involved in, so we handled it for you.”

A line forms on his forehead in displeasure.

“We’re wanting Nora to dance with you on Preach.” Derrick’s words come out bluntly.

I rack my brain to think of what song that is, but it must be from his new album because I’m not familiar with it.

I nervously shuffle my feet, fully aware we’re the only people in the studio at this point. “Okay, yeah for sure I’ll do it.” I try to throw the words out to help ease the tension, but it’s no use; Nash is glaring at Derrick as if he just told him his dog died.

“Preach is a slow song. One of my slowest. It’s just me and a guitar up there,” he says through a clenched jaw.

“Oh, well, I don’t have to…” I thought my words would satisfy Nash, but all this does is earn me a dirty look from him.

Dude, maybe the tabloids are right. He seems like a complete dick.

“You will start the song on your guitar. But you will perform a majority of it with a headset on while dancing with Nora. We want to try new things with this tour. We think your fans will eat up seeing you do a slower dance with Nora. Plus, from her auditions, that is Nora’s specialty. She should be able to bring the song back to life beautifully,” Lizzie offers. Her tone is soft, her eyes cautiously watching Nash.

“We’ve got some great ideas for the direction of it, man,” Derrick interjects.

I look down at my leggings to see if there’s a piece of lint or hair or something to distract me from how uncomfortable I am right now.

It turns out Monica has a few tricks up her sleeve to force me and Nash together, this one being performing a song with just the two of us.

“I finally relented on letting dancers on this tour when it isn’t something I’ve done since I was in a damn boyband. She’s not dancing with me to Preach. Not happening.” There’s a bite to his words that none of us miss. It’s obvious this is something he’s serious about.

Monica sighs, looking up at the ceiling in frustration. “Give it a chance, Nash. If you hate it in a few weeks, then we’ll talk. But try it our way.”

“What if I don’t want to?” His brown hair flops over his forehead as he turns his body in her direction. He raises his eyebrows in what seems like defiance as he waits for an answer.

“For fuck’s sake, Nash, could you not be difficult for one part of this tour? We’re trying to give your fans the experience of a lifetime. You should join us.” Monica’s phone pings from her purse, but for once I don’t see her go to answer it instantly. Instead, she stays locked in a silent stare-off with Nash.

After what seems like forever, his shoulders lower. “Fine. But I’m holding you to the fact that if I hate it,” he looks at me with a taunting grin, “which is likely, then we don’t do it. Deal?”

Monica gives a nod of her head. “Deal. The two of you can stay back with Derrick so he can walk through his ideas.” She breezes out of the room after that, Lizzie and Tyson hot on her heels.

It leaves Nash, Derrick, and me alone in here. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to distinguish that this is probably the last place on earth Nash wants to be, but to his credit, his feet stay planted.

“Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking,” Derrick begins, while Nash and I both listen carefully—whether we want to or not.