It was past one in the morning when I let myself back into the apartment and yawned. We’d been working all day without much of a break. Marty had been on some sort of trip wanting us to dance our asses off until we died.

I rubbed my eyes as I laid the keys down on the hall table and made my way into the kitchen. As I entered the kitchen I sighed as the memories of the week before flooded my brain. The girl standing looking, like a deer in tail lights, at me and Jay not far behind her trying to babble an excuse as to why his shirt was off and this woman was in my home, our home.

I sighed and opened the fridge and pulled out the half drunk bottle of wine and a glass from the upper cabinets. Right after I had fled the apartment I had found that I really had no where to go, and after running a mile I stopped in front of the nearest bar and went in. Needless to say I drank myself into oblivion then.

So here I was, sitting in my kitchen with a bottle of wine, my other remedy for the pain I had felt that wouldn’t go away. Trying to drown my sorrows and hoping that Justin didn’t catch it in my dancing.

I poured myself a glass and took a long sip before heading into the bedroom for a nice hot bath. I entered the bedroom and I yawned again. As I approached the bed, I noticed I had new messages. I hit the "play" button and laid the glass down on the table and began to undress as I heard the first message.

"Hey Tiff it’s me call back when you get this." It was Trace, probably wanting to know where Justin was AGAIN. I deleted the message.

"Hey Ballerina, was worried about you today. You didn’t seem on form. Anyways call me back and maybe we could go out after rehearsals or something? We haven’t been out in a while and I miss ya. Bye, call me." Justin. I sighed, what was I going to tell him he’d noticed my glitch in my dancing. I grabbed the glass and finished my wine, refilling the glass as the next message played.

"Tiff? Baby? It’s me Jay." The glass dropped from my hands then, as did the bottle as I stood motionless wondering what to do. My head told me to delete it, don’t listen. But my heart told me to listen, maybe he had an apology. My heart won. "I’m sorry, let me explain. I didn’t mean what happened, it just happened. It’ was a mistake…" And before he could finish I deleted the message. I couldn’t hear anymore. My nerves were getting to me.

Without thinking, or noticing that my carpet was stained with wine I picked up the phone and called the first number that came to memory.

"Justin? It’s me Tiffany. Yeah get ready we’re going out, and get prepared to get drunk."