February, 2016.

"Lord! What happened to you?"

I'm rushing into the teacher's lounge just as Beth is leaving, and we almost collide against each other. Which would have been my second crash of the day.

And it's not even noon yet.

"This guy decided to share his coffee with me." I explain with annoyance as I wiggle out of my wet and stained coat. "It was lovely." I grunt.

I swear, that whole policy of not talking over the phone while driving should also be applied to walking around whilst holding hot beverages. Especially in a crowded street where you're constantly bumping into people. Even when you actually are paying attention.

"I'm sorry." She stifles a chuckle. "Was he cute, at least?"

I look at her with a raised brow, and she shrugs sheepishly. Wasn't she on her way out?

"Actually... he was kinda cute." I respond pensively, remembering his face. "And quite eager to apologize."

"Really?" She says, and her interest seems to peak. "How eager, exactly? In a scale from one to ten? Teen being you got yourself a hot date for tonight..."

My eyes deflect from hers, and I focus on my clothes making sure that the coat was the only casualty of my rough encounter with the coffee guy.

A few seconds go by without me saying a word and she starts tapping her foot against the floor, clearly impatient for an answer. And I laugh.

"Coffee after work, friday." I finally respond, still not looking at her. "So I guess that's what? A seven-ish?"

This weird little noise escapes from her throat as she comes in to give me a quick but tight hug.

"I'd say that's a solid eight! Well done!"

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me, and as soon as she finishes with her little celebration I remind her that there is a class about to begin and we have to be there.

"So, where are we with the scenography? Is it finished?" I change the subject ever so swiftly.

"It's... going.... No need to worry about that."

"Well, if you say it so enthusiastically then."

We walk into the classroom just in time to get things ready before the girls start bursting in, ready to start the class.

I greet them with a general wave, leaving Beth to attend to them as I go to the corner of the room to prepare the music for today.

I am scrolling down the playlist I have prepared since last night, when I feel a soft but determined tug at the hem of my shirt.

"Miss Lea!" She calls me out with that little voice I came to just adore in the last couple of months. "Did you hear? I'll get to be the princess!"

I laugh at her little smug expression, nodding energetically as I kneel to be eye leveled to the small child before me.

Her dark blond hair is tightly tied into a bun at the top of her head, leaving her beautiful face clear to the sight. She wears the brightest of all smiles and the cute little button she has for a nose wrinkles slightly as she grins.

Of course I know she'll get to be the princess. In fact, I was the one who chose her for the part and, although she apparently forgot all about it, I was the one who broke the exciting news to her a few weeks ago.

She is the youngest of the group, barely reaching the five year old barrier, but she is by far the most promising kid of the bunch.

In so many ways she reminds me of me, and even though it is really hard for me not to rehash everything I went through last year, watching her and being around her to witness how she gets better and better each day simply warms my heart.

And there is something about her that gives me the feeling I have seen her face before. Don't know where, don't know when. But it still feels familiar, and nice. Really nice.

"Of course you will, little Dolly! You deserve it." I beam placing a hand on his head in a congratulatory manner, but careful not to make a mess of her perfect hairdo.

Never in a million years would I have imagined myself doing this. Teaching little girls to dance was not exactly what I had in mind.

For a while, staying at home, being spoiled by my parents whilst wallowing in self-pity felt like a good option. I was miserable but it felt somewhat safe and comfortable.

But eventually I started to feel it; that awful, suffocating sensation that the walls were closing in on me. And just when I was about to get crushed under the weight, not only of the things I've lost, but of the things I let go on purpose, this opportunity presented itself like the perfect getaway.

We were walking around town, my mom and I, doing a little shopping, when we ran into my old dance teacher, Miss Clutter.

To my fortune, and since news really do travel fast in a small town, she'd already heard all about what had happened to me back in New York so there was no need to catch up on any of it.

Instead, the conversation drifted to what later resulted in my settling and working right here.

It turned out that a colleague of hers had just opened a small dance studio in the city and she was looking for young people interested in teaching classes.

Like I said, that wasn't exactly what I had in mind but at least it involved dancing and not delivering flowers at my mother's shop.

"Why do you always call me that?" She asks me with a curious, somewhat vexed tone, and I giggle at how funny she sounds. "You know that's not my name, right?"

My giggle turns into a full on laughter. The sassiness in her voice and expressions simply cracks me up.

I suppose I could explain the real nature of the nickname I gave her. I could tell her that it's the result of an intricate association I made with her second name and the French word for doll. I could say that, but I don't think she'd follow.

Not because she's not smart enough. In fact, I sometimes think is far too bright for her age. But because we really need to get to work.

"I know, Doris." I say, pronouncing her name solemnly. "But I also know you look just like a little doll... so there's that."

And with a smile turning her brow upside down, she gracefully accepts my explanation.

"Alright, little demons! Take your places." Beth commands and I nod at Dolly so that she joins the rest of the group. "Remind me again why we're doing this?"

She sounds as annoyed as she looks. And I don't think I can blame her.

Putting up a rendition of Swan Lake with such small children is definitely a challenging endeavor. And we have regretted the decision way too many times already.

But the recital is just two weeks away and there's no way we can back down now and start from scratch with a new show.

"Because we are a couple of bitter bitches who live their frustrated lives through these kids." I tell her with a mocking tone and an evil smile.

Beth's story is quite similar to mine. She also had a bright future ahead of her, and albeit her circumstances were far more tragic than mine, she also sustained a bad injury that still hasn't healed completely. If it ever will.

We often laugh about it, saying that this has to be some sort a halfway house for broken ballerinas.

Granted, we are fairly drunk whenever we laugh about it, but we laugh nevertheless.

"Right." She sighs, and we kick off the class.

*****

"If you think I forgot all about it, you'll have to think again."

We walked out of the school, after yet another long day of trying to keep those young minds focused on their task, and we are making our way down the street.

We both walk each other home since we live not too far away and less than two blocks apart from each other.

"I guess I must have, then. Because I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." I respond with complete honesty, frowning at her in confusion.

"I'm talking about that." She says, pointing at my chest. And I remember.

Of course. The morning incident that earned me a ruined piece of clothing and a date.

I still don't know why I said yes, let alone believe that I did.

Sure, the guy was easy on the eyes and, putting aside the fashion in which he busted into my life, he was absolutely charming. But going on a date with him, or anyone else for that matter, wasn't something I was expecting to agree with for a very long time.

"There's nothing much to say. Besides, I'll probably skip it." I tell her without even bothering to look her in the eye because I know what I will see. "I don't even know why I said yes in the first place."

"What!?" She stops in a halt, squeezing my arm to force me to stay put. And I shriek. "Oh, no! You don't get to bail on that date. That would be plain disrespectful!"

"What are you talking about?" I ask, unhooking her fingers off of me. "How would that be disrespectful? And to whom?"

She gives me a glance that reminds me a lot like Dolly. And suffice to say I don't find it half as funny when it comes from a twenty in her mid twenties, instead of a five year old.

"To whom, you ask? Uhm, well, I don't know... Maybe to the thousands of women trying to get a proper date in this God forsaken city? Me included!"

I exhale dramatically, throwing my head backwards.

"God forsaken city?" I repeat her words with evident mockery in my voice. "Beth, we are in London. British men live here. It's not that hard to find someone to go on a date with."

"It is hard to find a good one, though." She says, and the way her smile fades and the light in her eyes dims out, sends a chill up my spine. "I should know."

Sometimes I look at her and I can't figure out how she does it. How she can be so optimistic and open to love, when she went through hell and back trying to find it.

And in a split of a second it seems to come to me; the realization that she is absolutely right.

No one hurt me. No one broke my heart into a million pieces and left me on my own to clean up the mess. No one damaged me or my capability to trust someone ever again.

If anything, and for all I l know, I was the one who did all of those things.

And I had no right to. But there is no turning back now. What's done is done; and punishing myself or dwelling over it has absolutely no point anymore.

Life goes on. It did for Harry. And it surprisingly did for Beth.

So I guess I can't be the exception.

~~~~~

Song: Move On by Jet.