♬ ✥*

Serenity.

"Thank you so much for everything, Miss Hayes," Penelope said, whist her arms were wrapped around my hips.

"It was a pleasure teaching you, Penny. Never stop dancing, yeah? You're amazing," I spoke, giving her the same embrace.

It wasn't a minute more when my student's father came to pick her up — for the last time.

I was now down to seven little dance prodigies.

Two thoughts were running around in my head: one, I was losing dancers to teach, decreasing the rest of the income I needed to live my life; and two, I'm going to have to close down the studio anyway for renovation, so it's best to have less.

The question was, did I really have to close the whole place down?

Ten days have passed since the signing of the contract. Harry had pre-informed me that he was going to be in London once more, and gave me his personal contact information if I needed anything. I didn't, though.

There was no point to contact him with regards to, "What on earth should I do now?" I knew that I needed to search for the best contracting company or interior design firm to help get things started, but I was feeling stressed.

Panic overcame me, and I had no other choice but to dance.

Teaching my students, I always wore a leotard and tights to help make them feel more comfortable. They knew that the dedicated uniform was a part of ballet, but the tight fit on their small bodies, I could see their apprehension towards it.

It only took me two classes to realise it, and by the third, we were all uniform, and they could see what it was like, first-hand, how a ballerina looked up close. They studied me, just as I did them.

Picking up my phone, I scrolled through my lengthy list of music before settling on something that fit my mood just perfectly.

The melody of the piano entered my veins, breathing in the oxygen that I was desperately looking for. Lyrics defined everything that I was feeling — everything that I wanted to say but couldn't.

The only way to do that was to dance — so I did.

My feet flew in the air, beating past the invisible air, keeping my fingertips long, and freeing. Landing on the ground, I crouched down, grasping ahold of my waist, shoving myself, then pulling back up — holding onto myself.

I felt the pounding of the drums in my ears, loud and strong as I moved my body in sync with it. Steps and jumps were taken, one after another, each powerful with emotion — until I fell.

Miscalculating the distance of how far I could stretch, I landed forcefully on the ground. My palms clapping against flooring, one knee bent towards my torso, the other laid long.

But I didn't let that stop me.

Dragging myself along the cold surface, I pushed my body on my knees and back up straight with pure confidence and continued to dance. My mistake, I improvised it with my mind choreographed routine, letting it reach to the perfection I knew it could be.

Sweat dripped down my back, hair stuck to my forehead, and my throat was craving water. Panting deeply, I picked my head up from the ground, dragging the palms of my hands over the linoleum floor.

Pushing myself, I stood from my crouched position and jumped suddenly from fright. It wasn't from the new upbeat song that played next, but from something else — someone else.

"What are you doing here?"

Harry stepped through the double doors to the open space of my studio, removing his sunglasses, revealing his sparkling emerald gems. A tie was tied perfectly, with the two buttons of his jacket done up. His hair was flawlessly styled, and everything about him spoke two words: power and confidence.

"I usually like to be greeted with a preferred, 'hello.'"

Oh, right...and arrogance.

"Yeah, well when you don't scare the bejeezus out of the person, they might give you that satisfaction you're craving..." I paused, pursing my lips. "...and today is your unlucky day."

"You're in a mood today," he commented as I turned off the music.

"I thought you were in London," I said, grabbing my water bottle, and quenching my thirst.

There was a tiny part about me that should be furious with him showing up unexpected, but he was in my zone. This was who I was. Sweat, tears, and some blood were inevitable from a dancer.

It's just me — Serenity.

"I came back yesterday."

Once I satisfied with my water craving, I replied, "You didn't answer my question."

"You're right, I didn't." He nodded once, before walking into the open space. "You know, I invested in your business without even checking out what I agreed to. I've never done that, so I came by to see it personally — and to make sure you weren't exaggerating with what you needed to do."

"Your way to worm around the word, 'lie', isn't very sly — which I thought you were. Mr big-shot CEO and all," I sneered, and he gave me a glare. "You want to see if I lied, then believe it, but the studio is right in front of you. I'm sure you've memorized my proposal by heart now, so there's no need for me to repeat what I already told you. Take a look around and see it for yourself, because after all, isn't that what you came to do."

"Tour."

"What?"

"I'd like a tour, please."

"Polite. Wow. I didn't think you had it in you." A short laugh left my lips.

"Enough with the sass. You're a ballerina, aren't you supposed to be filled with grace, poise, and be as nice as could be."

"Hmm, I suppose I am mistaken."

"About?" he questioned in reply, crossing his arms. He only did so to make himself seem more intimidating in front of me, but he wasn't going to have his way. Harry liked to know and be right about everything.

That was going to have to change.

"About the fact that you clearly don't remember everything I've said," I replied with a sly grin. "I'm a contemporary ballerina, and that means that I can be sassy, or feisty, or dramatic, or ethereal — or maybe all of them in one. I dance like I breathe, it's who I am. You can't tell me who I can and cannot be. Just because the word 'ballerina' is in my professional title, doesn't mean it applies to how should I act."

"So there's more to it, then?"

"A lot more. You can say contemporary dance is infinite, and adding it with classical ballet, it's a whole other world made of emeralds, sapphires, and gold," I spoke, my lips curling upwards at my words.

A single nod was given as a response. He moved around through the space, observing things on his own, and I let him. I was aware he was going to want that tour still but him roaming around didn't bother me — it made me content. I watched as he stopped at a certain spot just passed the studio doors.

"Are all of these the productions you've been in?" he asked, looking at the photographs on my wall.

"Yeah. I loved doing the Nutcracker," I replied with a smile, glancing at the picture of me, River, and Jordan.

"You still in contact with the people you used to dance with?" He questioned, some personal curiosity slightly hidden in his tone.

"Jordan, not so much, but River and I are constantly chatting with. We're best friends."

"Those exist?" He let out a feeble laugh.

"What?"

"Best friends? Is that even a thing?"

It was clear to me that this man didn't have any friends.

Maybe that was one reason why he was so angry. He needs a social life — everyone does.

"Are you serious?" I questioned him with a raised brow.

"I mean, you and your friend, River or whoever she is, and this guy Jordan, you can't possibly remain in contact with them."

"Actually, River is —" I tried to correct him, but his phone started to ring at the same time.

"I have to take this," he said, raising the mobile device up to his ear, whilst walking away.

Okay, fine. Excuse yourself, go right ahead, your Highness.

Ten minutes had gone by as the man in the fitted suit remained on the phone. The volume of his deep voice increased about eighty per cent of the entire conversation. Hands were raised in a fury, practically punching the air around him. The muscles under his jacket contracted with tense movements. It made me slightly worried that the fabric would rip because of his actions.

He didn't seem too pleased, which was never a good thing for me. The last time that happened, I got kicked out of his company and unexpectedly stuck in an elevator.

However, that was half-positive, since it was the cause as to how I even got the investment.

I moved to the corner, to wipe my face, and pull my loose hair pack into a ponytail. Reapplying deodorant, it made me feel as clean as I possibly could at this moment. I desperately needed to shower, but thanks to his appearance, that would have to be postponed.

If only I knew how long he'd take during this business chat of his, I could have quickly done that, but that wasn't possible.

All I knew was that I had to keep a decent distance between the two of us.

Before I could move my thoughts to anything else, he'd made his way back into closer view. "Sorry about that. There are some fuckers out there that don't know how to do their job."

"Right," I responded, genuinely unsure what else to really say.

"So, let's get started."

"Sure. I mean, you walked through the entrance and waiting area."

"Your signage needs work, and your waiting area needs a major update."

"You sure have a kind way with words, don't you?" I chuckled at his abrupt, truthful, and slightly rude start.

"I believe in honesty — and nothing but that. I told you once before, I don't joke around with business, nor do I fuck with it."

"Well, you could at least say, you've got great potential, just a few modifications might be needed. I mean, would that really cause so much more effort?" I furrowed my brows at his blank, emotionless expression.

"No," he said, simply — and firm. "That's not who I am."

His comment took me off guard. There was something deeper about what he meant, and he thought that they were just words, but they weren't.

"The question is, do you know who you are, Harry?"

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" Emerald eyes narrowed on me, waiting impatiently for my response.

"What I mean is that you need to get out of your concrete zone."

"The saying is, 'get out of your comfort zone.' No?"

"It is, but I don't believe that's how it's supposed to go — and mean."

"So what does it mean?"

"You're an intellect, and I don't have to spell it out for you. Figure it out, Styles," I spoke those words with a smirk tugging on my lips. It only frustrated him even further.

"You're infuriating."

There was no doubt his reply wasn't expected. I was well aware, and frankly, I slightly enjoyed that.

"And you need to lighten up and see more of this world — to see the beauty it has." I smiled. "Tell me something, have you ever gone on a hike or seen the mountains up close?"

"What importance does this have to your business? Because I don't believe it has shit to do with it."

"On the contrary, it has everything to do with it. Being in nature is being free. To be free is to dance. It's all connected even if you don't understand it with the naked eye. You have to believe it with your soul, Harry," I explained. My statement only caused a puzzled expression on his face. He was trying to figure it out, but the only way to do that was to experience it.

"Come on, Mr Styles, we have a lot to see." Gesturing for him to follow along, I broke him out of his deep thoughts. He gave me a single and stern nod before obliging to my actions.

I showed him everything in the studio — things that I considered perfect and the ones that were in desperate need of help. I was honest with him, just as he was with me. The only difference was that the words I used to describe the studio, which was the current love of my life, were still kind and hopeful.

All of the rooms were walked through, he commented quite often as we moved along in the space. On average, about ten offensive words were compared to a mere zero spoken throughout each area. I held in everything I had to counter his mean statements.

I was well aware that even though the papers were signed, and everything was agreed upon, he could still pull out of the investment with a simple blink of an eye. I could never legally fight his decision because I would never win against him; and even if that happened, I wouldn't put a clear desperate definition towards my face. In the end, I have dignity.

"So that's it." I grinned, raising my arms out wide, emphasising the open space. We reflected in the mirrors that were placed on the largest further wall, our bodies entered in the studio.

"Alright." He simply nodded his head once, his brows furrowing once more. It seemed like it was the only facial expression that he truly loved. "I just have one more question."

"What's that?"

"What is that awful smell in this room? There has to be some sort of mold — maybe also get it tested for asbestos and —"

"What sme— Wait a sec. Are you talking about the smell not? Like at this moment?" My eyes widened and sparkled with amusement.

He must be joking.

Wait, my mistake, Harry doesn't do jokes.

The mysterious weirdo.

"Yes."

I grinned widely before speaking, "That's rose and vanilla. Have you never smelled them before?"

"The fuck?"

"You really are living under a rock." I laughed. "I use an essential oil diffuser."

"For what, so you can hide the mold smell?" he commented and gave him a harsh look.

"For your information, buddy, I did get the place tested for everything — including mold and asbestos. It all came back negative. So thanks for the tip," I sneered.

"Fine."

"As for the oils, rose is helpful to improve mood and decrease anxiety. And vanilla is good to reduce hyperactivity and lower blood pressure. They're both relaxing, and I add them when the studio is empty — or if a student asks for it when we're stretching in the end. Of course, I know not to use anything if someone is allergic. The ventilation is great in here, which is obviously good because no one wants a stuffy dance studio filled with humidity and sweat."

"I didn't ask, nor care, about what they were for," he replied after my explanation.

"Sometimes you should ask nicely about something before jumping right into insults. You're really great at that, you know," I said, shaking my head at me. "And yes, you did ask."

I informed, and realisation then hit him before he replied with the two words: "I'm sorry."

Harry used that word in the past, and both times, it seemed foreign to him — just as a smile was. Nonetheless, though, he still said it.

"Now, honestly, tell me what you think of the space?"

"Other than everything I've mentioned, it seems alright. It's definitely doable. We can add several elements from the designs in my buildings —" he said, and just as I was about to interject, he continued, "— I own 30 per cent. I have some say, remember that. It was also what you wanted. An agreement is an agreement, Serenity."

"Fine," I replied, in the same tone as he had done earlier. I earned a slight glare but disregarded it. "But I don't want my studio to look like it's owned by your company. Sure you own 30 per cent, but I own 70. Remember that too, Harry."

"I believe that we —"

"Rennie!" An incredibly familiar voice echoed in the space, one that I've missed dearly for a few years, but only heard it over the phone — or through video calls.

As soon as my best friend came into view, I could see a wide smile on his gorgeous face, with his arms were open as he walked up to me. I ran and clung onto him like a koala.

"No way! You can't possibly be here!" I exclaimed, loudly — possibly deafening the guy.

He was the absolute same as I remembered him to be. Dazzling sage green eyes, short cinnamon brown hair, little flamingo pink lips, deep dimples, and the small curled ears I always adored. The only thing that changed about him was the significant amount of scruff that graced his jawline and cheeks.

That only meant one thing, he hadn't been dancing professionally in a while.

"Hmm, I can't tell if I've been missed. Might 'av to enter again," he teased as I let go.

"In case you don't know me, I only missed the accent, dude. Nothing more." I grinned.

River and I have been friends since the first day we started at the ABS — him just as terrified as me. The two of us stood across the room, giving nervous smiles towards one another. Of course, there was no doubt I thought he was attractive at the time — he still is. We both needed a friend starting out, and had no mutual attraction that was relationship-based. We always saw each other more as siblings, rather than close friends.

We actually met when we were paired to dance together — both of us given partners that the instructors ended up switching. They tried us out, and less than halfway through, it was official. Ever since then, we were inseparable. We studied our theory classes, trained, and choreographed pieces together — basically, we were two peas in a pod.

His mother's from England, which is where he got the accent. She was a single mom for the longest time until she found a new husband who cared for her and her family. Since then, she decided to be a stay-at-home mom and loved it. Her husband supported her decision and understood why she wanted to do that. Caring for her two sons River and Noel — the other being five years younger. She needed the time to spend with her boys since she lost several years by having to work almost always to provide for them.

Three to four times a week, I was invited over to their house for some sort of meal. We'd play board games, have some movie nights, and I'd stay over if it became late. By late, it meant ten, since we were always up by five preparing for our daily lives as a dancer. It was, and still is, a lot of tough work, but all so very worth it.

Once I got the opportunity to dance with Ballet BC, I couldn't refuse the offer and came back home. For River, Calgary was home, so he stayed with the ABS, moving on to dance with their company.

The question now led to, what was he doing in Vancouver? And here?

"So what're you doing here? I thought you'd never leave Cow Town or Berta in general."

"You've got a nice place 'ere, Rennie. I love it."

"Answer the question, Riv."

"I wanted to surprise you." He grinned a swoon-worthy smile.

"And?"

"You know me too well."

With a laugh, I replied, "I sure do, so answer me."

"Fine. I've decided to move to Van City. Thought I'd come to out 'ere to see why you love it so much."

"I don't think I've heard any better news all day!" I beamed.

That was then the sound of someone clearing their throat, echoed loudly in the vast space.

We both turned to face Harry, who was not pleased with the situation happening around him.

I hadn't got the chance to tell my friend over the phone my news since I'd been so busy. I guess now was that time.

"Miss Hayes —"

No. Not the last names again.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry."

"— If you plan to see your boyfriend, I suggest —" Harry's words were filled with disgust as he spoke them, before getting interrupted by the other Englishman I knew.

"Boyfriend?" River questioned, and we both let out a small laugh. "Goodness no, we're not dating. Rennie 'ere is my friend and former dance partner."

"That's true — and best friend, Riv."

"S'nice to meet you, mate. The name's, River," he extended his hand out to Harry, and I just held onto an amused expression as I watched the scene unfold in front of me. The CEO's eyes observed him carefully before finally letting his own hand join with my friend's.

The look Harry gave him almost seemed shocked to know something about River, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

"Harry Styles. I'm the CEO of Urban Corp. I'm investing in Miss Hayes' studio."

"It's Serenity. Please stop using my last name," I spoke, meeting my eyes with his in a silent plea. He nodded one subtle nod and I was thankful for that.

"Ren, you didn't tell me that your studio needed help."

"It needs much more than just 'help,'" Harry said, and I let out a deep sigh.

He clearly forgot about our short conversation earlier.

"Still just superb on just 'kind,'" I remarked towards him, only to receive a glare.

"A fellow Brit, though. How is it that I've rarely come across them the entire time I've lived in this country?"

"Can't answer that for you," he answered, then turned to face me properly. "It seems that our meeting is done for today."

"Unexpected meeting," I clarified, "So, that's it?"

"I did have other questions, but reuniting with your friend has taken up the remaining time. I have a dinner meeting that I need to get to."

"You have dinner meetings?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

"Not particularly. Stop by my office on Monday morning at ten. We need to discuss matters regarding the renovations, amongst others."

"Okay."

"S'nice meeting you, Harry," River said, kindly — but received zero attention from the man he was speaking to.

"Right, then," he replied. "Good day, Serenity."

Before I could say anything more to him, he was already close to the main doors. His actions were peculiar to me, but it seemed a bit sensible considering how I acted with River. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with the situation. I would be too.

I wasn't nosy or wanted to know why Harry acted the way he did, but it seemed like he wanted me to know. I just got this strange gut feeling.

I'll figure Harry out — one day. I just know it.

...

A/N:

So this is a bit of a long one. We're gonna count them.

1. This dude (aka me) finally managed to update on a Saturday. I need to reward myself with a gold star sticker.

Besides that...

2. So River has finally been introduced! From the brief intro, do you like him so far? (Spoiler [no spoiler] there are no love triangles. I really dislike those.)

3. And why do you think that Harry acted the way he did? What're your thoughts about the chapter? What'd you like the most? What about what Serenity said to him? 'Get out of your concrete zone'.

FOUR. But okay, the most important thing (sorta) is that your girl did a thing....she did a trailer. Like omgosh. (Well then, that's actually a 1D coincidence, 18 months my ass)

It's right after the book's intro with the chapter title of 'Trailer'. Kinda stating the obvious, sorry. I planned on posting it during the week, but it took a tad longer to complete than expected.

Please press on that little star on the chapter, I mean, it only takes a millisecond. They're nice gifts.

Kissy, stay golden, and TPWK!

S x