Angela Staton was quite the girl.

Roger watched her from the corner of his eye, watching the way her mouth worked around as her mind raced. It was clear that she was not okay. Even though she was pointedly ignoring him, and was pretending as if all was well, he doubted the popular beauty queen was fine with the followers she'd called friends claiming she had a mental illness.

Rather, it was her silence that made him think she was definitely not okay.

He was tempted to tease her. Material was already building in his head and, considering it was usually his way of diffusing a tense situation, it was a little difficult for Roger to hold his tongue. There was no telling what she would do at a time like this.

When they'd returned to the car, Roger had expected her to do something stupid, like get day drunk. Or something basic, like spending an enormous amount of money through therapeutic shopping. She did the latter.

But he continued to watch her, watch the way she had trailed through the malls, only a single shopping bag in her hand. Roger had carried half of her load, while the driver carried the other half. He'd pointed out that he couldn't protect her very well if his hands were so occupied , to which she had responded by saying that he wasn't a very good bodyguard then.

Those were the last thing she said to him and they didn't comfort him very much.

Roger blamed his tender heart on his worry, even though he shouldn't be. She clearly didn't like him and, with a personality as bitchy as hers, he should have no reason to like her. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she was the reason she was being treated so badly now. He doubted he was the only one she was so snippy with, and yet, he didn't complain much as he was dragged form store to store. He didn't tease her, he didn't taunt her, he didn't say any comforting words. He only stood by her side.

But now that they were in the car, he could not hold his tongue any longer. He had stuffed the bags into what little space was left in the trunk while she spoke to the driver, assuming she was just giving him the location for the next mall. Now, that they were headed there, he looked over at her.

"You okay?" he asked.

She blinked slowly as she looked at him, deadpan. Then, without a word, she looked back out the window.

Roger decided to take that as a 'no'.

"I gotta say," he went on. "I'm surprised. I didn't know you had it in you to be bothered by what someone else says about you."

Still, he got no response. So he kept going, sensing that sooner or later, she would break.

"That glorious princess up on her high horse thing you have going is just a facade, then, huh? I'm a little disappointed, but hey, what can you do?"

She still didn't say anything, but he saw her fingers tighten on her arms. 

Roger wanted to say a little more to comfort her, to tell him the information he knew about those twins and their parents. But he had to bear in mind that they weren't alone, though the driver was so silent that they might as well should be.

"I say, screw them. You're Angela Staton. Soon, your father is going to be the most important  man in America. They'll regret all they've said to you."

She looked at him again. Her face was expressionless, yet her eyes were searching. Roger wondered if she was still trying to find his hidden intention for being here. Or was she trying to find the lie in his words?

But, again, she remained silent, looking back out the window as the car pulled into a parking spot before a large, grey, nondescript building. She barely waited for the car to come to a full stop before she was getting out and Roger hurried behind her. He stared at her from behind, watching her blond curls bounce as she entered the building.

It was large and empty. When he spotted the ginormous mirror occupying the entirety of one wall, he realized that it was a dance studio. Suddenly, he realized that this was the same studio she had been kidnapped about a year ago. Her father must have renovated the exterior in her absence, because it hardly looked the same.

She went straight to the door on the far end of the room and Roger followed her. Before she entered, she paused and turned her head to the side. "Stay here."

Her voice held no bite, just a simple command. That was the only reason he decided to listen.

He watched as she entered and then he took up position by the door. The studio was not empty when they entered, but the girls who had been here were already scrambling out the door, whispering to each other as they shot Roger curious glances. Roger didn't have to guess to know what they were talking about.

A minute went by before someone else entered. It was lanky guy, with a mop of brown hair and clothes that were a  little too loose-fitting. He took his gym bag from around his shoulders and tossed it to the side, noticing Roger. His brows lifted in surprise and he gave Roger a simple salute. Then he proceeded to ascend the steps leading to the mezzanine. From where he stood, Roger could see him stretching.

At that moment, Angela emerged from the room. Roger was surprised to see that she had pulled her immaculate curls, which must have taken her time to do, into a high ponytail with tendrils falling around her face. She'd changed into a pair of black knee-length tights that stretched all the way up to her navel, and a loose shirt that barely went past her breasts. Roger guessed there must be lockers with her clothes in that room because she'd gone in empty handed, and he sincerely doubted she'd been hiding those clothes underneath.

She said nothing as she made her way over to the laptop in the corner of the room. Roger stayed by the door, watching her.

He'd known that she was a dancer. He'd even thought a few times that he would like to see her dance one day, just for the fun of it. But now that the prospect presented itself, he couldn't understand why he thrumming with such anticipation.

*Author's Note: You can play the song here*

As the music began, she went into the center of the room. She pointed a foot, looking at herself in the mirror. Slowly, Angela moved her head around, her gaze focused.

And then, she began.

She was fluid, her limbs as swift and as gentle as an ocean's waves. Every bit of her moved to the beat of the music, even her hair whipping with each bass that thrummed through the room. 

Roger was enraputured. His heart thumped as he stared, his mouth falling open. 

Look me in the eye, tell me what you see...

Kicking a pointed foot straight into the air, she slid to the ground with such grace that his heart fluttered. She crawled along the ground as the lyrics swirled through the room, her body expressing every word that was said.

Perfect paradise, tearing at the seams...

She was tortured, in pain. Willing herself to stand but beaten down by the world around her. Without tears, she managed to express the hurt she felt. Without blood, she managed to show how broken she was. With only pointed toes, swirling hips, and hair that danced just as magical around her, Angela was expressing herself  in a manner he'd never thought was possible.

Make your heart believe, but I'm a bad liar!

And she exploded.

She was no longer graceful. She was power. She was strength. Just as easily as she'd been torn apart, she'd put herself back together. As the music boomed through the room, it seemed to reverbate within him, seemed to orginate from her. As if she was the very epitome of the words being said.

And she didn't stop. Roger watched as she brought herself close to the mirror, just to push herself away again. And then, it was calm again.

I waged my war on the world inside...

She was different now. She was calmer, she was more certain. He even thought he saw a hint of a smile. He realized now that she was not just expressing herself. She was talking to herself. The person she saw in the mirror was someone else. 

Perfect paradise, tearing at the seams...

But he could not tell if she was trying to be that person, or push that person away. If she wanted to love herself, or hate.

Wish I could erase, make your heart believe, but I'm a bad liar!

It was beauty itself. The way she moved, the many emotions flowing throughout the room. Annoyingly, he felt tears prick his eyes and he blinked them away, watching as her hair fell out of its hold.

I can't breathe. I can't be, I can't be what you want me to be...

As the song settled again, she sat cross-legged in the very same spot she'd begun. She didn't put her hair back into the ponytail. It blanketed her shoulders, falling over her face. Only half her face was visibly, showing an emotion he never thought he'd see on her face. 

Fear.

I'm a bad liar!

In an instant, it was gone. Roger drew in a sharp breath as she lept to her feet, her body curving to the beat of the song. She twirled around the room, never missing a step, her hair never having the chance to fall into her eyes before she was off again, following through with the rest of the song with all the energy in her lithe body. 

It was magical. It was beyond anything of this world. And it was a side of Angela Staton that didn't even seem possible.

When it was over, Roger could hardly breathe. He stared at  her, her heavy pants, at the pose she'd ended in facing herself in the mirror. Then, calmly, she picked up her hair tie and pulled her hair back into its ponytail.

The sharp sound of clapping brought Roger back into reality. He stood taller, looking up at the guy he had forgotten was there. Which was weird. He was always aware of everything.

"You're good!" the guy said, grinning from ear to ear. "Crazy good, I'll say. I almost feel as if I should pay you for seeing that."

Angela looked up at him, but she didn't respond. She only made her way back to the laptop, while the boy jogged down from the mezzanine.

"You were watching me all this time?" she asked, her voice bland. It sounded eerily like a rather unemotional girl Roger used to know.

"I didn't mean to be creepy," said the guy. "You were probably in the changing room when I came in. I was warming up here."

She didn't respond. Roger didn't know why that pleased him.

"Look, you're insanely good," the guy went on. "You should enter competitions with that skill. The way you can dance with such emotion is sure to give you the win."

"Not interested."

"You sure?" he pressed. "Okay, busted. I was hoping to be a little cooler with this but..."

Angela, who looked like she was about to leave, stopped to look at him, raising one brow. The boy rubbed the back of his head, giving her a grin. "I was hoping to enter a competition myself but now that I've seen you, I don't think I'm any good. You wouldn't mind giving me a little tips, do you? Maybe help me practice?"

"Isn't there an instructor here?"

"Some rich guy bought him out," he said. "Now this place is just for members who want a place to get some practice in."

No doubt that rich guy is Stephen, Roger thought. Screening those who enter too. Hm.

Angela didn't make it obvious if she'd put that together herself. She only looked him up and down and said, "You're on your own."

"Oh come on!"

"I don't have time for people like you," she said as she walked away. "Go bother someone else."

The boy looked a little disappointed, but Roger felt her dismissal only strengthened his determination. She went back into the changing room, not even glancing at Roger.

The boy approached him. "You her bodyguard?" he asked.

Slipping into the role as Jason, he nodded brusquely.

"You think you can get her to take me under her wing?" he asked. "I can't pass this opportunity up."

Roger only shrugged. He didn't care what Angela did with her time, but Jason wasn't a very talkative guy. The boy sighed, as if he'd guessed that himself. 

"I guess I should do this on my own, huh. Maybe I can watch a few videos." He continued mumbling to himself as he walked off toward the laptop.

He started up a song and went to stand in the center of the room. Only a few seconds into his routine, Roger could see that he truly needed all the help he could get.

The boy grew even sloppier when Angela emerged, as if he sensed her presence. She didn't even glance at him as she made her way to the exit, Roger on her heels. Roger could not take his eyes off her. He was thrown by the performance she'd just put on, and how perfectly she'd put herself together afterward as if she hadn't done a thing.

But, it seemed she was still not in a good mood as she made her way to the car. The driver was outside, smoking. When he saw them coming, he flicked the cigarette away and got into the car.

Roger looked at Angela. "Angela..." he began.

She stopped and looked at him, crossing her arms. "Stop asking me if I'm okay. Stop pretending you care about me or what I'm feeling."

He didn't get to formulate a response. Didn't even get to open his mouth when the car they were standing just a few feet away from exploded into pieces.

***

Hey guys! I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I love when Angela dances and I hope this helps you guys to understand her a little better. What do you think about the song choice?

Stay tuned for the next chapter!