Lyrical (Academy of Stardom, #2)

by Bea Paige

My Dark Angel.

Dax might knock his opponents out with lethal punches and kicks. Zayn might slash his victims with the sharpened point of a knife. York might crucify his enemies with fists that break bones. Xeno might torture his adversaries with something far worse. And Jeb might ruin lives with threats to the ones I love.

But tonight I’m fighting back.

I love them. I fucking hate them. I want them. I never ever want to see them again.

“Look at me, piękna tancerka,”

He looks at me with longing, with fucking hope.

“Did you not see what he did? Did you not fucking see what he did to

Kid?!”

I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to be afraid for my sister. I don’t want to be afraid for my life. I don’t want to be afraid of my feelings. I want to live. I want to be free.

I see him. My best friend.

Love is chaotic, agonizing, complex. It’s like DNA, no one really knows the depths of its power or can unravel its mysteries. Love is just there, it’s something that exists and we’re all just a bunch of people either looking for love, are in love, or are heartbroken without it, because of it.

We were happy. We fucking loved you.” His

My Pen.

You. God fucking damn it, I want you, Pen.

Three years forgetting the girl I loved.

“Malik Brov…?” she croaks, swallowing hard. “No! Not him. I made sure of that,” I say fiercely. No fucking way. Not that man. Not him.

Damn, I’ve missed her.

She’d fallen apart in my arms and opened herself to me, giving me a way in, but you wouldn’t know it looking at her now.

You will never go hungry again.

I’ve filled up your fridge too. Eat first, then go look in your wardrobe. Zayn.

This is the least I could do.

You deserve so much more, but this is a start. Zayn.

Malik might be a dick, but he was right about one thing. You dance with passion, with fire. You fucking slay me. I’d willingly burn up in your flames, and suffocate in your ashes, if it meant

I could hold you close again. If it meant you’d let me in. Zayn.

Pen, Do you remember how you used to talk about these trainers? Because I do. I remember everything. I remember wanting to be able to buy these for you, and I remember vowing that one day I would. These past few weeks I’ve been reminded of how it felt to be your friend and when we kissed in the studio yesterday, I remember how it felt to be loved by you. I told you it fucking hurt when you walked away, and it did. But I don’t give a shit about any of

that anymore. Do you hear me, Pen? I don’t give a fuck what made you leave, only how to fix this distance between us. I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I won’t push you, but I’m not backing off either. The others can do what they want. You were mine first, so it’s only right you’re mine first again. Zayn.

“I’m a grown man, as are those motherfuckers. They can do what they want, but it won’t stop me from going after what I want, and I sure as fuck don’t care what he wants.”

“That’s a conversation you need to have with them, but I will tell you this. When you walked away, Dax withdrew into himself more than ever and York lost his optimism, his enthusiasm for everything. It was fucked up. We were fucked-up for a long time,” he says with brutal honesty.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much, Pen,”

“I’ve missed you too,”

Pillowtalk by Zayn Malik

“It takes a small man to pick on a kid, but a bigger man to embrace his feelings,” Dax says to Justin. “You, my friend, will never be as talented as Sidney here because you’re afraid of your feelings. Putting someone else down to make you feel good about yourself ain’t fucking cool. Apologise. Right the fuck now.”

Show me. Show me the boy I loved is still within you.

All their eyes are on me, but all I can focus on is her. Pen. Kid.

Her friendship gave me something positive to hold onto and her love… Fuck, her love made me feel so fucking big. I could rise above every punch and harsh word from my dad knowing that she loved me.

I can’t be close to her like that and not want her, need her.

Zayn has already caved, and York is on his way to saying fuck it.

Fixing my gaze on the woman I loved then lost so spectacularly, I place my hands over my face and wait for the music to start.

I knew without any doubt that I loved her, and I had vowed to myself that I would become a man worthy of this girl who held my heart in her hands.

I don’t know how to cry.

But when Kid looks at me the way she does, as though she’s rubbed off the tattoos, pulled away the layers of skin, muscle and bone, and sees right into the very atoms of me, I begin to believe I’m more. I begin to believe that I’m capable of being more than a victim, more than an assailant, a criminal, a bully, a fucking monster. I can be Dax. I can be her Dark Angel. I can be the boy she loved.

For three years I’ve been numb, just like the song suggests. Now, I’m beginning to feel, and fuck, it hurts. It’s painful, but still I dig deep, trying to hunt how I feel from deep inside.

My heart wants her so fucking bad.

She wants me.

No more buses for my girl.” “Your girl?”

“That’s right, my girl. Be ready at eight. I’ll be waiting for you at the club.”

“I know a lot of people, Pen, but not one of them is as special to me as you are.”

“I didn’t bring you here to impress you, Pen. I brought you here because you deserve to be treated like a fucking queen. I want you to eat good food, drink expensive

champagne, enjoy the best fucking singers, and dance because you want to, not because you’ve been forced to.”

“I want to dance with you, Pen. Fuck, there are a lot of things I want from you but right now, right this second, I want to dance with you. Dax is a fool, but I’m not. I want you back and I won’t lie about that to myself or anyone else.”