♬ ✥*

Serenity.

There are certain things in our lives that we can't live without. Inanimate objects, people, emotions, or something that just survives within us — and only that. The fascinating fact is that none of them are the same with each individual. We're all different, and we all see things in a unique manner. It's about perspective and perception — and most importantly, passion.

Picasso, Monet, Van Gogh, each of them are world-renowned painters. With every single brush stroke and colour choice, there was a meaning as to why they did it — a meaning to bring a definition to the completed masterpiece. After hundreds of hours, that single painting could be interpreted in thousands of ways by a variety of individuals. One could see it emit with happiness and joy, when the artist was truly despondent as the bristles hit the blank canvas with the colour of their choice.

Photography was no different.

Ansel Adams, Diane Arbus, Steven McCurry, each of them are world-renowned photographers; however, each have different subjects and views. Landscape, portrait, and photojournalistic. The final picture, edited or not, in sepia, black and white, or colour, a person can still see it differently.

Again, it comes down to the same thing: it's all about perspective.

And dance was no different.

Passion. Connected. Free.

Those were the words that I felt every single time I danced; and it didn't matter whether I was in heels, pointe shoes, or barefoot. The moment music entered my soul, it left my body through actions I couldn't verbally explain.

Some movements are poetic and rhythmic, while some are elegant and graceful, and others, fierce and powerful. Contemporary dance was expressive and ultimately beautiful; and through it, you could never predict the next action that the body wants to physically inspire.

Ever since I was a little girl, dance has always been in my heart. For some people the desire for wanting to move their body in a beautiful manner fades over the years; but that wasn't me. Just before I'd turned three, I was gifted a soft pink tutu that I lived in all day. My mother told me that when she had to take it off me so that she could wash it, or so that I could bathe, I cried until it was back in my possession again.

I constantly twirled, lifted my arms up above my head, and jumped up in down in my spot. She quickly figured that I had a passion for wanting to be a ballerina, so she put me in classes. My inspiration saw potential in me and helped with starting by igniting the tiny flame, which flared what eventually turned into my career.

My mom was okay that if my love for dancing disappeared over time it would be fine, even though my classes were expensive. She saw that it was something that made me happy, and to her, that's all she wanted for me.

Some might say that would be a form of just wanting to be spoiled, which she was called out for by many others, but it wasn't. I was definitely not spoiled during my life. There was something that both my brothers and I were given one thing that we could do in our lives growing up, and our parents would support it. For Milo and Charlie, it was hockey; as for me, it was obviously dancing.

Ballet specifically.

Of course, we learned how to dance all different types: jazz, tap, hip hop, modern, pointe, and a bit of ballroom as well. My favourite, though, remained the same since day one — a dancing ballerina.

Once I got older, I decided to experiment for myself, and mixed modern with ballet thinking that I created my own type of dancing; but little did I know, it was already something that was growing in the dance world. Contemporary ballet — and that's exactly what I wanted to be.

A contemporary ballerina.

Emotions flooded through my veins to the very tips of my fingers as I stretched my arms out. The tips of my toes felt the ardour as I slid them across the linoleum floor. Extensions, embraces, pirouettes, intense, yet gentle, grasps to my head, and whimsical jumps; all of that let myself faintly touch the translucent vision of every sensation.

Nothing could stop the vehemence that emitted from the deepest parts of my heart and soul.

In my studio, I felt at home.

Perspiration glistened on my forehead, feeling my neck and body just as damp. The palms of my hands rested on the floor, panting heavily as I caught my breath. Crawling a little over to the wall to grab my water bottle, I immediately drenched my throat with the thirst it was craving.

I wiped my face with a towel, then rested it on my shoulder, as I grabbed my things to make my way back to the bathrooms. All I knew was that I was in desperate need of a shower.

Stripping out of my clothes, I adjusted the water before stepping under the single rain head between the four that were in this large room. At a point in time, we planned on renovating parts of the studio, but that was halted not long after we started. Luckily, none of the exposed areas that were right down to the studs were anywhere near the public spaces I needed.

The warm water cascaded down my body, rinsing away the sorrow and desolation I shared with the mirrors and myself. They reflected everything that I did, almost telling me that what I was doing wasn't right. If they had a voice, they'd say to me, "That's all wrong. Do it again — again — and again."

Those words were always on constant repeat in my mind from my past. My instructors regularly spoke them aloud just for me; and for the longest time, I thought it was because they hated me. The truth revealed itself several years later.

It was because I was one of their best students, and they wanted me to achieve more than just greatness, they wanted the whole world to see the power I own through dancing.

I remember them telling me, "Dance lives in your spirit. You shine and sparkle when you move throughout the room. You have a beautiful soul, never let it fade."

And I didn't.

I attended one of the best schools in the country, then returned back to my province, and danced at one of the most notable companies I could ever imagine. I stayed there for a few years before I decided to venture on my own.

Some of my fellow dancers and inspirational icons asked if I was crazy or if I was hit in the head with a brick, but I wasn't. I've always dreamed of creating my own company, wanting to be an inspiration to other dancers to be the best they could be.

I was doing incredible and succeeding with my ultimate dreams; but all of that changed when the economy crashed. I almost lost everything. My instructors were forced to quit because I didn't have the money to pay them, the majority of the parents who had their children enrolled, could no longer afford the lessons. I was left with only eight students and one instructor — me.

Getting out of the shower, I got dressed into some comfortable clothes to wear for the rest of the day, and let my hair fall loose to air dry. Not an ounce of makeup adorned my face, because of two reasons: one, I didn't have my pouch on me, and two, I didn't need it to make me beautiful. I was already beautiful, as everyone is.

Recently, society has made it a norm that you must wear makeup to be beautiful; and that is one of the biggest lies ever told. Makeup can enhance beauty, but we did not need it to do so. It was an option, and we were the ones who could choose to take it.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't wear it, because I do. 

As I made my way to the front door, I passed by the framed photographs hanging decoratively on the wall. Some were of my friends, other beloved dancers, and of me dancing in multiple productions. Romeo and Juliet and the Nutcracker were my two absolute favourites that I'd ever danced in. I was honoured to also be chosen for the lead roles. A small smile curled at my lips as I recalled the many memories I had.

I took a look at my watch and quickly realised I was late. Damn it. She was going to kill me.

Locking up my studio, I practically ran to my car and drove off to the café that my friend was obsessed with. I mean, there's no doubt that I loved it too — they made a solid London Fog.

Stratus clouds hovered over the city of Vancouver, pouring thousands of buckets onto every surface in sight. The rain obscured the vision for drivers, the windshield wipers moving at their fastest speed, yet still not capable of keeping the view clear. My eyes squinted as much as possible, leaning slightly forward to try and see better; that option failed — it was all the same.

The humidity lingered in the air and it frustrated me to every extent. I pulled my loose hair up into a bun, attempting to keep the frizz tame. The thought made me snort lowly to myself. Right. Like that was actually possible.

I pulled up to the curb, seeing my friend through the café's window. It was a small and quaint place, with vintage décor, heavenly drinks, and delicious treats with a scent to die for. It always gave me the warmest vibe, so welcoming and comfortable. My favourite part was that they had board games. Any shop that had board games was an automatic yes for me.

Letting out a groan as the rain increased, I grabbed my umbrella from the backseat, and got out of my car. I jogged towards across the sidewalk, shaking the droplets of water off the fabric under the building overhang before I made my way inside.

Just as I was about to order my usual, Amara called my name, noticing another cup opposite to hers. Bless her sweet and kind soul.

"You know, somedays I wish you would actually come on time," she said with a laugh. Her vocal tone was soft and honest, you could just imagine how loving she was just by hearing her voice.

Amara was stunning. She didn't stand very tall in height, though, she was very petite in comparison to me. We were polar opposites in looks. She had creamy caramel skin, mocha-toned eyes, and short chestnut brown hair could never fail to make anyone stop, and say, "Wow, she's pretty." And now that I think of it, she's practically a luxurious latte.

I, on the other hand, stood a bit taller above average, incredibly fair skin, and long chocolate brown hair, with the deepest sapphire blue eyes. To my unfortunate liking, I also wore glasses, and my skin was scattered with countless light-toned freckles.

It was great, really.

"Sorry, I'm late. I got caught up with —"

"Dancing. I know. What's new?" She grinned as I sat down. "No glasses?"

I couldn't lie or give any excuses, she knew me too well.

"Shut up." I shook my head, failing to hold onto an upwards curl on my lips. I lifted my cup and took a sip from it, closing my eyes taking in the flavourful taste, then opened them back up again. Their classic London Fog was still as great as I could always remember. "Thank you and no. Got my contacts in today."

"You're welcome. I still don't understand how you don't want coffee."

"You know I hate it."

She rolled her eyes at my words, letting out a sigh. "You've never tried it."

"I have," I countered and my friend chuckled, whilst raising a brow.

"Yeah, once, and then you told me, 'Ew, what is this? It's gross'"

"I don't sound like that." I laughed loudly. "And it's true. I'm a tea gal."

"Dude, you don't say gal. You're a tea dude."

"Dude, great to know."

Any Canadian knows that calling anyone a 'dude', even a girl, is perfectly normal. It's just the way the rules of this country worked. 

"We're just great, eh?"

"Eh." Another laugh escaped my lips.

And 'eh?' too. It's a sentence on its own.

Whatchamacallit. Toques. Timmies — including the classic 'double-double'. Loonie — or a 'toonie'. Runners. Tobogganing. There were so many more, but I've lost count at keeping track of them. It just comes naturally as conversations occur.

The only reason we met at this café instead of a Timmies, was because she told me she was in the mood for a speciality drink today: a caramel mocha topped with chocolate shavings — ironic.

"On another note, I've been thinking about closing the studio," I said casually, then took a sip from my tea, letting the bold flavour linger on my tongue.

"What?" she exclaimed, louder than predicted. "That's your prized possession and your dream. Are you out of your mind?"

"I can't afford the rent of the space anymore. That's not even where it ends. It's all just causing so much strain on me. I'm stressing and meditating isn't helping..." I trailed off. "...and sometimes, neither is dancing."

"Serenity Marie Hayes, don't you dare stop dancing. I will murder you in your sleep if you do," she threatened — and it wasn't lightly. I just sighed, shrugging in reply. "You've talked to many investors in the past, why don't you try again? There has to be someone out there willing to invest in your company."

"Yeah, you just said it — in the past. Past tense, as in, when the economy was still great, and I had enough money to run the place. Other than the few students I have now, it's basically a standing building. That's all."

"How many students do you have?" she asked, after swallowing a bite from her salad.

"Eight."

"You can't break eight little hearts. Starlight Studio is your life. Don't give up on it yet."

"I've tried for seven months now. Nothing seems to work and the bank isn't going to loan me the money. I don't have any assets and I'm not putting myself into debt. I'm on the edge of that already."

"I still think you have to try again." She took her bottom lip between her teeth. "Have you talked to —"

"Yes."

"You didn't even know who I was going to say." A frown was prominent on her face.

"I do know. I've met with dozens of people, and no one is willing to invest in something like this."

"Anyway, little miss interrupter, what I was going to say was, have you talked to Milo?"

My big brother would do absolutely anything for me and help with as much as he possibly could. He's always been my rock growing up, and whenever I had a problem, he was there for me — even if all I wanted was just a hug. He could instantly know if something was wrong just by reading the expression on my face; and because of that, it's the reason why I've been avoiding seeing him lately. I'm sure that he's probably figured out that something's up, but I'm glad he hasn't mentioned anything yet.

"I'm not going to involve my family. They already know something's up and I don't need them knowing the details of everything. Plus, you know the amount of dedication and effort they did for me while I was growing up. Without them, I wouldn't even be where I am now."

"I know that." She smiled warmly. "But what I meant was if he told you about another place. Do you know a company called Urban Corp.?"

"No." I shook my head. "What's that?"

"Well, your brother was talking to my sister who told me about some hot-shot CEO that somehow still managed to keep his company standing strong during the downfall."

I snorted at her revelation. "He's rich. Everyone that was affected were the middle and low class, Mars. It's the way this world works. It's corrupted."

"That's a big ass fact, but I don't think that has anything to do with it. Destiny told me that he has a lot of connections and likes to invest in small businesses. In case you haven't picked up on it yet, hint hint, small businesses." Her words only caused me to chuckle.

Milo and Destiny have been a thing ever since junior high school, but they started dating in high school. For a year, they were forced to do a long-distance relationship because my brother got an opportunity to do an internship within his program; the only problem was that it was in Toronto. With the love and trust they had for each other, they made it work. Their relationship, along with my parents' were what assure me that true love is out there; and it's worth everything for — even when you have obstacles, there will always be ways to overcome them.

"Amara, thank you and all, but if I wanted someone specifically to invest in small businesses, I would have gone on Dragon's Den."

"Hey, I gave you that option ages ago, too," she huffed, pointing her finger at me.

"I'm highly aware of that, but I want someone who understands what I want and what my goals are for my studio. I don't want just any investor."

"And how are you going to know that he's not 'any investor' if you don't try. Get a meeting, pitch him what you've got, and see what happens," she suggested. "What've you got to lose?"

"My dignity and being humiliated — again. That and being criticized of anything. You know me, I'm a Pisces." I shrugged, letting out a sigh.

"Alright, Ser, push aside your Pisces weaknesses for a second and focus on your strengths. You've got charm, you're intuitive, wise, and very artistic. Put all of those together and you're a banger — you've always been one," she said, with a kind smile on her face. "Plus, I read your horoscope, and it said that today is going to be the day you'll find the loose strand to unravel the knot that is of all your problems."

"Mars, I'm a firm believer in zodiacs, not horoscopes. You should know that by now, miss Libra." I chuckle, watching her do the same; but it wasn't long before my nerves broke though. I took my bottom lip between my teeth, pondering what she'd said. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so because I know you. You've got all the power in the world so you can conquer it. You can do it." She reached over the table, taking my hand in hers. Her friendly touch was calming and serene, extinguishing the flame of fear I had inside me.

"Thanks, dude." I grinned.

"And hey, if all goes wrong, you can just go study, then be a Mountie. You can never fail with that." A laugh escaped her lips at her words.

Royal Canadian Mounted Police. The RCMP, if you will.

"I don't want to be a Mountie."

"And that's why you're a dancer." She smiled. "What was it you said your instructors told you? Dance lives in your spirit. So my suggestion is to listen to their words, and go for it, twinkle toes."

A wink was sent my way as she laughed, knowing I hated that nickname. However, she was right. I really had nothing to lose. As of now, this was my last hope, and I was going to make it count.

Urban Corp., get ready because your investment is coming my way and I was determined to get it.

...

A/N:

Executively Devoted is finally here. I'm literally so happy and excited! 

I know it's only the first chapter, but so far what do you think? Let me know please and thank you! Don't forget to comment and vote, it's only a teeny tiny little effort. 

Updates will remain on Saturday's, but I figured surprise chapter would be nice.

Much love as always and TPWK!

S x