THE THROBBING pain of regret seeped into my head the next morning, accompanied by a sick ache in my stomach and for some reason, a big bruise on my knee.

How that got there, I had no idea.

When I opened my eyes, I realised that I was not in my room. Gone were my clothes and piano sheets spread messily about the floor.

But thankfully, my slow brain realised as I looked to my side, it was Gabby's room. She was sleeping next to me, her mouth wide open and sounding out a symphony of snores.

The light shone through her blinds in yellow stripes on her wall, brightening photos that were stuck caringly in clusters. Outside, there weren't the usual sounds of chatter and student hubbub – it was a Saturday, after all, so everyone was either hungover or sleeping in anyway.

With a happy stretch, glad to be free of lectures, I reached for my phone that lay untouched on the bedside table. It turned on, flashing in my face with such a pervasive glare that I squinted and flinched away as if it burned me. I was definitely way more hungover than I thought.

Once I'd turned the brightness down, a few texts flashed up: Alice, asking if I was still alive. Then some spam emails that I needed to delete and, just below that, there was –

I froze mid yawn.

A reminder I'd set and completely forgotten about.

Dr Foreman – he'd scheduled an evaluation of the work he given last week. Today. At 10AM.

It was now 10:15.

Cursing loudly, I scrambled out of the covers, causing Gabby to stir beside me.

"Where are you going?" She mumbled, her voice muffled as her lips squashed against the pillow.

Crap. I was still wearing my dress from last night. There was absolutely no way I'd be going to see my professor looking like I'd just had a one-night stand.

"I've got a meeting." My cheeks were heating up now. That was what happened when I got stressed. And a stressed, hungover, hungry Luna was definitely not a good combination. "Have you got any clothes I can borrow?"

She sat up slowly, holding one hand to her forehead. The mascara smudged under her eyes and the eyeshadow that seemed to have transported to various patches on her face told me that we'd forgotten to take off our makeup last night, which was going to add to my delay even more. Great.

"Yes, you can put on these." Gabby offered, picking up some clothes as I turned on the light to look at myself in the mirror.

Sure enough, staring back at me was a mess. Scruffy hair, glitter everywhere; red lipstick in my eyebrow. My mother would have cowered at the sight.

"Why did this have to happen?" I wined, grabbing the clothes that she held in her hands to change into, accidently banging my knee on her bedside table. "Ow. Where the hell did I get this bruise?"

Gabby collapsed back into bed with a grin. "Oh yeah. You tried to propose to a cat you stole on the way home."

"What...?"

"Uh huh." She gave me a sympathetic look. "I think it said no."

♦ ♦ ♦

Fifteen minutes later, I ran into the building where Dr Foreman's office was, trying not to notice the stares of the few students that were actually awake as I panted like a fish out of water.

Unhelpfully, I had to run up two flights of stairs to get there, my head pounding with every step, my surroundings seeming to spin and wobble unstably.

And then finally, as I reached the door, dramatically pushing it open, there sat Dr Foreman behind his desk and Abel in front, both looking at me half in shock and half in amusement.

"I'm so sorry." My voice croaked, trying to regain enough oxygen to actually speak properly. "That I'm late. I'm –"

"Hungover?" Dr Foreman raised an eyebrow.

Abel, whose eyes were glued to me, surprisingly stifled a laugh. He was wearing a grey hoodie, his hair dishevelled; body relaxed. If he was as hungover as I was, then he had an incredible way of hiding it, for he seemed at ease and generally unbothered to be awake and active on a Saturday morning.

"Yep." I grimaced, taking a seat.

"So, seeing as I've already asked Abel everything, how are you getting on with the work?" Dr Foreman asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs.

"Um, not too bad actually."

"Did you email me copies of everything you've done?"

I gave him a sheepish look. "Might have forgotten to do that. I got a little preoccupied."

"I can see that." He shook his head in a slightly humoured disapproval. "Well as long as you send it to me later today. Anyway. What I really wanted to talk to you guys about was the winter showcase. How are you feeling about it?"

"Great." The lie sang through my teeth before I even thought about it. Truthfully, I certainly wasn't feeling great. In fact, I had tried to forget about having to work with Abel – but the prospect had been looming over my head whether I liked it or not. The worst part about everything was that this actually counted towards my overall grade for the 1st year of University, and if we didn't work properly together, well then.

I'd fail, and prove my mother right.

"Abel, what about you?"

Abel looked out of the window behind Dr Foreman, clearly taking more interest in the outside as opposed to our conversation. "Yeah. Fine."

"Right." Dr Foreman looked unconvinced, tapping one of his pencils on the desk to what sounded like the 1st subject of Mozart's symphony no. 40. With a long exhale, he closed his eyes briefly, before adjusting the glasses on his face. His combed back hair and clean white polo shirt gave him a look of neatness and simplicity, which suited him well: he seemed as if he strived for ease, disliking conflict, which was perhaps why he had been so set on forcing Abel to have some proper human interaction.

Which, unfortunately for me, meant that I was that human interaction.

"I hope you're both not busy today." Dr Foreman eventually said, breaking the painful silence. "I've organised you to do some exercises before the Winter Showcase briefing starts next week. Exercises that should help you understand one another more. It'll get you in good stead."

Abel looked furious. His eyes had torn away from the window to settle on the professor with a deep glare. "I've got plans."

But Dr Foreman stared back defiantly. "Cancel them."

It was as if they were having a stare-off match. Neither was batting an eyelid.

"Um," I spoke, feeling uncomfortable. My voice seemed to have surprised them, for they turned to me suddenly in response. "Do we, have to do this today? It's just... I feel ill."

"Being hungover does not equate to being ill, Luna." Dr Foreman raised an eyebrow. "Suck it up."

I sighed in defeat.

So much for the restful Saturday I so desperately needed.

♦ ♦ ♦

We walked in silence towards the dance studios, carrying sheets of paper with instructions Dr Foreman had given us.

Abel, who hadn't spoken a word after Dr Foreman mentioned he'd be checking up on us every hour, lowered his head, glaring at the floor. As usual, he was unaware of the stares from the students passing by. His presence was undeniably obvious to anyone around – it was as if he was a magnet, sucking everything towards him, forcing others to migrate, whether knowingly or not, to his area.

I'd never been in the dance block before, but obviously Abel knew it well. Carelessly pushing the doors open to the building when we reached it, he wandered inside, not looking behind him to see if I was still there.

"Which studio are we in?" I asked, mainly to myself – by this point I knew that he wouldn't answer. Looking down at my sheet, I noticed that the number 5 stood out in bold. "Ah, number-"

He had already walked down the hallway, now stood outside number 5.

I sighed in exasperation. "Excellent."

After Abel had touched the lock with his lanyard, the door opened, revealing a large room with a smooth wooden floor and one long wall entirely as a mirror. Inside it felt gleaming and new, everything polished and cleaned to perfection.

It was interesting to be in another realm of Oakham, but that didn't excuse the fact that Abel and I were, for the first time ever, now completely and utterly alone.

Of course, we'd spoken the night before – a strange conversation that I almost convinced myself I'd dreamt, but others had been close by, and we'd both been distracted by our surroundings and, in my case, alcohol. I considered mentioning it; maybe apologise for eavesdropping, but his silence seemed to be a sign that he wanted to limit talking as much as possible. He probably didn't remember it, or even care, for that matter.

On the sheet of paper from Dr Foreman were 3 different tasks to do.

The first was for me to choose a song from the stereo.

Easy enough.

I wandered over to the stereo, plugging my phone in so that I could access my music.

Abel, who was leant against the mirror, straightened. "What are you doing?"

My fingers wavered on the screen as his voice pierced through the air. I'd assumed he was never going to talk to me. "Just putting on some music." I replied quietly. "It says on the sheet."

His eyes fluttered to the sheet in his hand with recognition, scanning it with that familiar analytical stare of his. "Oh."

The stereo crackled before booming out Fade Into You loudly through the speakers. Startled, I jumped to turn it down, cursing at myself for not realising it was on full volume.

Abel looked shocked. "That's not classical music. I thought you played the piano."

"And? Musicians can like different types of music."

He stared at me for a long time, his face shadowed under his hood, body reflected into the mirror behind. After a while of listening to the song, he stepped forward, and in one long motion, took off the hoodie.

I swallowed, not wanting my eyes to cling to the outlines of his muscles that were now way too obvious. "So, um. It says on the sheet that the next step is for you to choreograph something to this. Which we'll then dance...together."

"To this?" He frowned, checking the paper again as if not believing me. And then, with a shrug, he said, "Fine. Start the song again."

Any timidity of mine seemed to dissipate in that moment. Abel might have been beautiful, but he was also extremely rude.

"Sorry?" I scoffed.

He dropped his arms, mid-stretch. "I said start the song again."

"Oh, I just assumed you would have used another word after that sentence."

"What?"

"Beginning with P?"

He gritted his teeth, his Jade eyes pervading through mine, fists clenched. "Start the damn song again, please."

I smiled, proud of myself that I'd actually managed to stand up to him. "Of course, seeing as you asked so politely."

The start of the music sang once again through the room as I pressed restart, providing the rhythm Abel needed to begin choreographing. I watched quietly as he moved about the room, his movements loose and casual as he blocked each position.

And then, when the song ended, I played it again, mesmerised even by the smallest of steps and the tiniest of jumps. I wondered if he knew how impressive he really was. It all looked so easy for him.

"Okay." He eventually said, moving past me to turn off the music. "Stand up."

I stared.

"Please."

My knees clicked as I stood, eyes level to his chin.

His body, held now with poise, moved towards mine, radiating warmth with every inch disappearing between us. "We're going to start with the first eight beats."

Pressing play, he moved behind me to reposition my arms. His hands, firm and stiff, guided my elbows so that they were bent, gradually moving them into place.

The music was an easy way for me to focus my attention elsewhere from the obvious skin to skin contact, each beat steadying my pulse, the softness of the vocals like water flowing between us. I'd chosen it because, a long time ago, it had been my favourite song. It had played on the radio once when Mum and I were on a road trip to France, a beautiful soundtrack against the orange clouds that were beginning to descend into night. I'd loved it, mainly because Mum did too, and for years after it was one of the few things we could bond with.

Now I suddenly wondered, with a sad tension in my chest, if she'd even remember it all.

"It's a waltz." Abel was saying, his voice bringing me out of my daze. "So your steps should be slow and even."

I cleared my throat, embarrassed by my clumsy steps that juxtaposed with his soft ones. "Right, slow and even."

He started the music again. "You're doing it wrong."

"Sorry." I sighed. My cheeks were beginning to redden by the second. It definitely wasn't helping being under his watchful gaze quite literally, with every step I took. "I'm just not a good dancer. That's all."

Was that a hint of a smile on his lips? "I can see that."

Around the fourth time of playing the first eight beats of the song, I began to get the hang of it, feeling myself eventually relax as I let Abel reposition and guide each movement of my body like a sculptor adjusting his work.

In the mirror I watched myself, trying not to catch Abel's eye as I copied his movements. I looked small next to him: legs short and arms petite. With every twirl my dark ponytail swung, sometimes touching him if he was behind me.

After a while I broke away to reach the water machine that was calling my name, grabbing one of the plastic cups and filling it eagerly with dehydration.

Abel shook his head in frustration, muttering, "This is just the easy bit."

The water gushed down my throat in waves, the coolness welcomed gratefully by my body as it began to calm down again. When the cup was drained, I breathed in relief, looking back to Abel, who was now resting his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling.

Through the little time we'd spent together, I'd noticed that Abel seemed to exist in his own form of silence. His demeanour was tranquil, but that suggested to me that his mind was quite the opposite. He was one of those people that was always lost in thought. Even when speaking he seemed detached and reserved.

I suddenly wished I had met Abel before his sister had gone missing. Would he have been the same, withdrawn boy that stood in front of me? Or was he the opposite: happy, vibrant and carefree?

Finding myself moving across the room so that I could stand next to him, I cleared my throat. "Okay. Let's start from the top."

He pushed himself off the wall, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "You're too tired."

"I am not."

"You are." His deep voice hummed into my body. "I can tell."

We were now a lot closer than I had expected. Trying to ignore this, I glared at him boldly. How he could tell what I was feeling irritated me a lot. I didn't want to be transparent to anyone, let alone Abel Gray.

A groan escaped from my throat. "Fine, I'm tired. Dancing is tiring, okay?"

"It's not."

"Oh, it so is." I avoided his stare. "I mean surely you must get tired out from it sometimes."

He shrugged, tilting his head insouciantly. "Not really. You're just weak."

"Me? Weak?" I scoffed. "I am not weak."

"You are." His lips were quirking into a smirk, which was now making my blood boil. "You're weak, and you're a lightweight."

"I can hold my alcohol very well thank you."

We were so close that his breath was fanning against my skin. So close that I could feel the confidence draining out of me by the second.

"You are. That's why you nearly fell over yesterday."

"I did not." I snapped.

For a few seconds, his eyes held mine steadily, unwavering. He was so unpredictable that I had no idea what he was going to do. Where my legs were wobbly, his whole body was stationary; held with the strength of an artist that transformed movement itself. All at once, he was completely captivating and completely impertinent. The type that left you speechless and confused.

The type that had drawn me towards him and left me vulnerable against his presence.

But just as he opened his mouth to reply, the door opened. "I see I'm interrupting something here."

I cleared my throat, meeting the amused gaze of Dr Foreman.

"Abel, I'd like to see you outside." He stated. And as swiftly as he had entered, he exited the room.

Abel, who was still scanning my face curiously, stepped back, following the path of Dr Foreman with those soft steps. As I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding, he said over one shoulder, "You're wearing your shirt back to front, by the way."

I frowned, moving up to the mirror to look at my shirt. And, with a horrifying realisation, I saw that Abel was right.

On my back were the words, 'Big boobs, big dreams.'

I was going to kill Gabby.

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey!! Thank you all for your suggestions to go in my reading lists, sorry if I haven't yet checked out your book I am busy judging a film festival! I promise I'll be on it eventually!

Damn that was a long chapter though! Didn't realise it was until I was like halfway through and by that point it was way too late to stop...

Needed that Abel & Luna drama, what can I say.

Anyways, what did you think of it!?

Idk why but I find Dr Forman strangely attractive. Help.

Lol being stuck inside is making me delirious.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments as always!

Love,

Donutized