**Chapter 7: Broken Trust** The sun crept lazily into the sky on Saturday morning as I prepared for my dad's visit. He was coming over to tackle the shower situation that had turned into a puzzle worthy of a game show contestant. “I can help!” I offered eagerly, but he simply waved me off, a knowing smile gracing his face. “I work better alone, kiddo.” While he ventured into the bathroom like a soldier stepping into battle, I took the liberty of whipping up some omelets, the comforting aroma curling through the air. Just ten minutes later, Dad emerged, triumphant. “We’re good,” he declared, a satisfied spark in his eyes. I blinked at him, disbelief etched onto my face. “Ten minutes? I spent hours watching how-to videos and couldn’t get it right. What did you do?” He shrugged casually, nonchalance emanating from him as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “Just had to adjust the control valve.” I groaned, frustration bubbling up. “I hate that I still have no clue what that means. I feel so… useless.” “Hey now,” he chided with a grin. “I won't ask you to fix my shower ever again, but you’re still the first person I’d want with me in a tough spot.” “Of course,” I retorted, rolling my eyes playfully. “Thomas would just end up patching the enemy’s wounds.” Dad chuckled and nudged me with his shoulder, a warmth that only he could provide. “Nah, he’d throw down. But you?” “I’d crush their skulls to dust,” I asserted, voice laden with mock solemnity. “That’s my girl.” His admiration shone like brilliant sunshine as I served him breakfast, buttering his toast with an affection that spoke volumes. As we shared our meal, our conversation flowed. Dad, a SWAT team leader for Boston PD, regaled me with stories of his recent escapades—like the harrowing raid on a meth lab where he’d seamlessly maneuvered through danger, only to find three terrified children hiding in a closet. I marveled at how he thrived in a job filled with chaos and adrenaline. It was a world I found terrifying, yet he was a warrior within it. “How about you?” he asked, eyes twinkling with interest. “How’re the dance rehearsals going?” “Really well! I have high hopes for this year’s competition,” I replied, allowing a smile to spread across my face. “Kenji and I might actually crack the top ten.” “Of course, you can! You’re unstoppable.” His encouragement enveloped me like a warm blanket. “Yeah, but so is everyone else who’s competing,” I countered, the fleeting thrill of optimism dimming. “It’s definitely going to be an uphill battle.” “You got this,” he said, leaning in to nudge me once again. “You’ve never backed down from a challenge. Obstacles just make you stronger.” His unwavering belief filled me with an inspiring rush. After a heartfelt hug and a promise to return next week, I was filled with a bright gleam of hope. But the moment he left and silence settled in, an anxious reality washed over me, darkening the sunlit room. Later, as I prepped for my shift at the diner, my phone rang—Kenji’s name flashing across the screen sent a rush of anticipation through me. His voice came through heavy, carrying weight: “Diana, I can’t do the competition.” My heart plummeted, confusion mingling with disbelief. “What do you mean? Why not?” “Brace yourself,” he warned. “It’s too late! I’m already doubled over in horror,” I gulped, dread twisting in my gut. He couldn’t bail on me. Not now, not when our audition video was just around the corner. “I got a job on a superyacht,” Kenji revealed, each word dropping like a bombshell. “I leave tomorrow—for six months.” “WHAT?” My voice pitched. “What are you saying right now?” “I’m going to be the private bartender on a yacht owned by an eccentric billionaire. I can’t disclose his name due to an NDA, but he’s in tech and might be a bigamist.” A gasp escaped my lips. “Oh my God, you’re working for Constantine Zayn?” The news tore through me like a violent storm. The third richest man in the world and his scandalous reputation for juggling wives had been the gossip of the month. “I can’t confirm or deny anything,” he replied, his tone innocently mischievous. “First, we’ll dissect this in detail later—there are loopholes to exploit in that NDA. Second—how could you!” “I know,” he groaned, genuine remorse lacing his words. “I’m really, really sorry. I get how important this is to you, but…it’s a superyacht, Di.” “What about school?” My heart thundered in protest. Kenji was about to enter his junior year at Briar. “You can’t just vanish for six months.” “I’ll return in January for the winter semester and catch up on my courses next summer. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” “How did this even happen?” I pressed, disbelief mingling with jealousy. “Get this—my mother does the mistress’s hair.” “Wait, he has two wives and a mistress? That’s a bit much.” Kenji recounted how his mother had stumbled upon the job opportunity while the mistress lamented about a staffing disaster on the yacht. “Mom suggested me as a bartender, and the next day, I was talking to a billionaire,” he said, excitement bubbling in his voice. “I’m genuinely happy for you, I am. But… goddamn it, Kenji. This is NUABC!” My heart raced, the dream of what we could achieve starting to slip away like grains of sand through my fingers. “I know. I’m sure you’ll find someone else,” he replied, his voice trailing off uncertainly. “Right, because there’s a horde of ballroom dance enthusiasts eagerly waiting on the streets of Hastings just hoping for the chance to compete,” I retorted sarcastically. “Why don’t you post an SOS video on Ride or Dance? See if anyone in Boston wants to audition to be your partner.” “That’s not a horrible idea, but I’m still mad at you,” I confessed, disappointment layering my words. “I know. We had fun during rehearsals, but let’s be honest—we’re never going to place.” “That’s not true!” I shot back defiantly. “We might make top ten! That’s like two grand in winnings!” “Come on, we both know we’re not winning anything. Last year, we came in fifteenth out of twenty.” Kenji’s words cut through my hopeful bubble with the precision of glass shattering. Reality hit me hard. Yes, it was possible that this year we’d stumble just the same. But I wanted to dream, to believe that we could float above the rest. Surely this was our year to shine, to captivate the judges’ hearts with our Viennese waltz. “Please don’t go,” I begged desperately, but I already felt Kenji slipping away, with the word 'billionaire' echoing in my mind like a death knell. As I changed into my waitressing uniform, frustration spooled up in my chest. I hated feeling powerless in the face of circumstances beyond my control, especially when it involved my dreams. Adding insult to injury, I mentally jotted down a list of archenemies: Kenji for bailing, along with Constantine Zayn for stealing my partner. My shift at Della’s Diner offered little salvation. Each customer seemed worse than the last; one particularly nitpicky man made me retrieve his pie not once, but three times, declaring the crust unsatisfactory. A forced interaction with my manager eventually left him paying for two of the three slices he had devoured. When my shift finally ended, I dashed into the bathroom to change into denim shorts and a striped T-shirt. I had plans to meet Gigi for dinner at Malone’s, and my white tennis shoes slapped against the pavement as I hurried down the sidewalk toward the lively sports bar. “Kenji has betrayed me,” I declared dramatically as I slid into our booth, the weight of my frustration palpable. Her teasing smile gave way to surprise. “That’s a pity.” “It’s not funny!” I shot back, throwing her a glare. “What happened?” she asked, feigning innocence but clearly entertained. “He bailed on the competition.” “No! That’s pretty bad.” Genuine empathy softened her eyes. “Right?” I groaned, feeling my heart sink further. “Can you find another partner?” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Who, Gigi? Who in their right mind is going to spend their summer learning the tango to one day qualify for the most important dance competition in history?” “I don’t think it’s the most important—" “Of all time!” I interrupted stubbornly. She barely contained her laughter, yet a glimmer of seriousness marked her voice as she spent the next ten minutes brainstorming potential partners. But every idea felt more deflating than the last, and my dreams seemed to hover at a low, lifeless heartbeat. Our dinner conversation shifted to the wedding, where Gigi’s involvement was minimal, her grandmother carrying most of the weight for the planning. A fitting was scheduled for next week, and I found myself eagerly anticipating the moment I’d see my dress, battling my lingering disappointment amid the chaos of wedding plans. “Oh, I actually wanted to talk about that,” Gigi said, her gaze focused on me. “Would you and Mya be super offended if we don’t have a bachelorette party?” “Are you serious?” I asked incredulously. She raised her hands defensively, “Fuck, I guess that means yes.” “No, that means no!” Relief surged through me. “You have no idea how chaotic this has been. Your hockey team is scattered across the country, you have a zillion family members, jobs, trips—Mya and I have been pulling our hair out over this! But we can manage something, just…” “Oh my God, then let’s skip it,” Gigi said, her tone matching my relief. “There are too many things happening this summer anyway. I need to pack for Arizona, and that’s why we’re bailing on party tonight.” “Party?” I echoed, confused. “What party?” “The one at your apartment complex? Beckett's goodbye thing,” she explained. “Is he moving? Why didn’t I know this?” “He's not moving, just going on vacation.” “Oh. Wow. That’s a bit much,” I muttered. “Beyond extra,” Gigi laughed, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I pondered absentmindedly. “Eh, I’d still suck his dick.” Laughter erupted from her. “Ugh, can’t believe Shane is throwing a party,” I growled. “I just wanted one quiet night to catch up on ‘Fling or Forever’.” “Oh—Holy shit! We didn’t even get to talk about that!” Her eyes lit up. “Did you see Leni’s date with Donovan? I’ve never heard so much bullshit come from one guy.” “Donovan is shady, Gigi, it’s clear he’s not her guy. Poor Leni is too sweet for that nonsense.” Shifting gears, I couldn’t help but grimace in thought. Shane’s party was sure to wreak havoc with the Meadow Hill HOA judging by the ruckus pouring in from the pool area. It was barely nine; Niall hadn’t started chirping his complaints yet. Arriving home, I stepped inside and kicked off my sneakers, heading straight to feed Skip. He stared back at me, his lifeless gaze unfazed. I sprinkled his food into the tank; in no time, he swam away, as if embarrassed by the attention. From my balcony, the distant echo of laughter and music wafted through the air like an insistent whisper. Curious, I slipped the glass door open, peeking out over the railing. A modest gathering carded itself below; twenty or so people milled about, some basking in the pool while others lounged on chairs or huddled around tables. Shane had seemingly made a decent attempt at being considerate; low music drifted through the balmy air. All at once, Shane spotted me and called out, lifting a beer bottle. “Dixon, come join.” “Can’t hear you over the music!” I offered, pretending confusion as I pointed at my ears, but I hated the smirk creeping onto my face. Shane deftly hoisted himself out of the pool, droplets cascading down his sculpted torso. I forced my eyes away, but it was too late. I had been caught admiring Shane Lindley’s body. God, I needed an intervention. “Come on down,” he insisted, stepping closer as Beckett slinked beside him, equally bare-chested. The contrast between their bodies left me both flustered and frustrated. “I’m lonely, Juliet,” Beckett purred sweetly. “Come keep me company.” I shot him a smile, biting back the urge to giggle, “Hard pass, Romeo.” “Just one drink,” Shane urged, stepping closer. “Di!” a familiar voice shouted. I turned to see Fatima waving from her post, dressed in a sleek black swimsuit. My heart sank. She was here? And was that Lily and Gia in the pool? In a whirlwind of emotions and unexpected attraction, I felt trapped in the periphery of my friends enjoying a night I never intended to miss. Glancing back at Shane and Beckett, a part of my resolve cracked. “Fine,” I relented, but I couldn’t resist grimacing at Shane. “I’ll be right down.”