"I'm fine, Jase. Thanks again, guys." I give them both a kiss and step out of the car. When I walk inside, Kimber is gone. I go to my room, strip off my clothes, throw on a pair of pajama pants and a cami, and take a sleeping pill before climbing into bed.

"I hate you!" Roxy shouts, a few octaves above normal, while she teasingly shoves my shoulder. "I love that band! How did you even get tickets?"

"Jase got the tickets from one of his friends," I say as I shrug my shoulders as if it was no big deal that I got to see The xx in a private concert last weekend.

"Man, I need to meet this friend so that I can score some tickets too."

Looking up at her while I'm refilling the coffee beans in the grinder, I say, "You have met him. Well, you've seen him."

"Who?"

Securing the burlap bag with the remaining beans, I tell her, "That guy that came in the other day, the one you said was hot."

Giving my shoulder another playful shove, she says, "You're kidding?!"

"Nope," I huff out as I carry the heavy bag into the back stockroom. When I walk back out, Roxy is standing there staring at me with her hands on her hips and an evil grin on her face. I roll my eyes when I walk past her and continue cleaning up before my shift ends in a few minutes. I can feel her stare when I finally turn around and snap, "What?"

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's it." I turn back around and continue wiping down the machines.

Roxy sidles up next to me, leaning her hip against the counter with her arms crossed in front of her. "Was he there?"

"Yes, Rox, he was there," I say as I continue to busy myself with cleaning.

"You're driving me crazy here. Talk to me, girl."

Turning around, I say matter-of-factly, "There is nothing to tell. We went out, ran into him at Spines, had a drink. There is no crazy story to tell."

I start untying my apron when I notice Roxy eying me with a strange look on her face. "Really? No story to tell," she says as she tilts her head toward the entrance.

I look up to see Ryan walking through the shop, heading to the counter. What is he doing here? Looking at Roxy, I shake my head at her as I make my way over to him.

"You're gonna get an ulcer," I jokingly say, even though I'm a ball of nerves on the inside.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he says, "I didn't come for coffee."

I look at him with slight confusion when he lifts his hand, which is holding my leopard scarf. The scarf I was wearing last weekend that I thought I'd lost.

"Oh," I say as I reach out and take it. "I thought I had lost this. Thank you."

"No, you left it on the table, but you rushed out so fast, I didn't have a chance to catch you."

Looking down, embarrassed about my sudden exit that night, I quietly say, "Sorry."

"No need to apologize."

With my apron still clutched in my one hand, I lay it on the counter and start backing away when he asks, "Are you taking a break?"

"Um, no. My shift is over."

"Perfect timing," he says with a grin. "Want to have a quick drink?"

Before I can decline, Roxy butts in and answers for me. "She'd love to."

"Actually, I..." I don't finished my sentence because I can't think of an excuse fast enough, and I am totally busted. Letting a slow breath out of my nose, I reluctantly agree. "Sure. Let me go grab my bag."

When I walk into the back room to get my purse, I'm feeling very uneasy. Heading back out, Ryan is sitting down at one of the tables by the front window. I walk over and sit down. He already has a drink for me, and as I eye it he says, "Your co-worker said you like hot tea."

Sitting down in front of him, I say, "Oh, thanks. She's actually my boss. Roxy." I sound like an idiot with my voice slightly trembling. I pick up the tea and take a long drink, focusing on the hot, floral infused liquid as it slowly heats my chest. The rain is pouring down outside, and I watch the raindrops as they trickle and twitch down the foggy glass window.

"Did Mark tell you we are heading down to Mount Rainier on Saturday?"

I look up at him and reply, "Yeah, Jase mentioned something like that to me."

"You should come with us."

The nerves I thought I had just gotten under control return. Why is he inviting me to go hiking with him?

"I don't know," I say. "I have a lot of studying I need to get done." This is my go-to excuse when I want to back out of something. But I notice him staring at me with a look that screams I know you're lying.

"Well, if you change your mind, we are heading out in the morning around eight."

Nodding my head, I take another sip of my tea.

"How did you know I would be here today?" I ask.

He grins at me before replying, "I didn't. I just thought I would stop by, and if you weren't here, I was just going to leave your scarf with whomever was working."

"I didn't mean for that to come out rude," I apologize.

"It didn't."

As we sit there in awkward silence sipping our hot drinks, he finally speaks and asks, "So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"I have class in a couple hours, then I go to studio until five o'clock."

"Studio?"

"It's dance class," I explain.

Nodding his head, he asks, "You do that every day?"

"Yep. Two hours a day except for Tuesdays and Thursdays, which are three hours. But I tend to go in on the weekends as well for extra practice."

"That's a lot. When do you have time for anything else?"

Pressing my lips together and shaking my head, I say, "I don't"

"That bother you?"

"No...Why?" I ask.

"I don't know. When do you ever get down time?"

Down time isn't an option for me. The more occupied my time is, the less my mind tends to drift. "I don't. But I love dance, so I consider that my down time. It relaxes me."

Ryan continues to ask questions about dance and school as time begins to pass gently by. When I finish my tea, he notices and offers to get me another. I decline, knowing that I need to head home and clean up before going back to campus. He walks me out to where my car is parked and reminds me to think about the hiking trip the guys have planned. I tell him I will before getting into my car.

Storming out of the double doors of the studio, I head straight to my car, slide in, and slam the door shut. Frustrated, I grab the steering wheel and lay my head against my hands. My heart pounds fast, and I can still here the echoing of Ms. Emerson's hasty remarks in my head: Get it together, Candace! Where is your head at? CLAP! CLAP! Feel it! Come on!

I am so humiliated. I have never been yelled at like that in class before, but I feel like what she is asking for is outside of my control. My feet are flawless, I have no doubts about that, but I know what she's wanting, and I just can't give it to her. Inside that studio is the one place, the only place, where my head is free—where I am free. I don't want to lose that, lose the escape, the freedom, the nothingness.

She hammered me for nearly the entire two hours. I kept my eyes focused, but I could hear the sneers from a few of the other girls.