Racing with the bad boy

Chapter 15- packing

I spend the rest of my Saturday with my mum and dad because they're actually home for the first Saturday since I was like 12.

Mum makes us all tacos as we lounge around in the living room watching reruns of friends.

My dad often makes stupid jokes because he seems to think he's the funniest guy on the planet and mum often whacks him on his chest if his jokes are rude.

After 2 glasses of wine I leave my parents to it, knowing that they act like teenagers and make out after a couple of rosé's. Gross!

I wake up at 11 on Sunday morning feeling lazy and not bothering to get dressed.

I pull out one of my suitcases from my walk in closet and open it on the closet floor. I take out my outfit for Monday first because knowing me, I'd forget and pack it.

I grab loads of jeans about 10 pairs, white ones, black ones, ripped ones, blue ones. I fold them all and put them into the bottom of the suitcase.

Grabbing a load of tops I throw them in too. I put just about my whole wardrobe in, joggers, hoodies, skirts, jerseys and a couple of dresses because you never know.

Taking a brief break I grab some snacks whilst putting my phone on the speaker, letting 'arctic monkeys-teddy picker' play load, I go back to packing.

I throw all of the essentials in too, pj's, underwear, socks, a little bag with my bathroom essentials, hair products, makeup bag and shoes of course.

Belly flopping on my suitcase, squashing everything, I grab the zip and with lots of struggle I zip it up.

I stay lay on my suitcase out of breath like I've done a full day of dance, I'm pathetically weak.

Rummaging through my shelves I find my big prada hand bag, I've only used it once, might as well get my use out of it.

I shuffle into my room because 'chris brown-ayo' is playing. I put my purse,mascara, lipstick, sunglasses, iPod and loads of other bits in my handbag because a woman's bag is always full of junk, I just sit there and think 'I might need this'.

After what feels like hours of packing I drag on some of my old joggers and a sports bra and head into the basement to go over some of my dances.

I go over my dances and do a bit of technique, leaping across the room, doing pirouettes and jumps.

When I take my phone off the speaker it's already 5 in the afternoon, where has the day gone?

Rinsing all the conditioner out of my hair I do my usual routine and shave everywhere.

I throw on Ollie's now clean basketball jersey and head downstairs for some food.

The smell of my mums home made chicken fajitas fills my nose as I step out of the elevator.

"Amelia will you stop being lazy and using that lift, you're supposed to be a dancer" my mum calls from the kitchen.

"I am a dancer, I've just been in the studio for a couple of hours, sorry that my legs are aching" I roll my eyes behind my mums back, taking advantage that she can't see me to yell.

"I'm glad you've been dancing, I don't know if I'm comfortable with you going on that car racing trip tomorrow, it's for 6 weeks, you'll loose your flexibility, not to mention someone might take your spot at the front for your big show" my mum rambles on and on.

"Mum the show is 4 months away, we've already finished the choreography and got our places, nothing will change and no one will take my spot" I reassure her "and I'll stretch every night whilst I'm away" I say in a begging tone hoping she doesn't change her mind and not let me go.