The Way We Dance by Katie Rae

9

Ty

We were in our second and last week of camp and I was fucking exhausted. Too tired to lift my legs, yet somehow I was expected to do ballet again.

Coach told me Miss Priss hadn't gotten back to him on anything from her time at practice, at least not on me. He had received several notes on Lawrence though.

Not sure if that made me mad or vindicated. I asked Coach if she was there to watch Lawrence and he said, no. She was there to watch me, but if she saw anything she could help with, she would send the info his way.

"I may see if Lawrence wants to go with you on Tuesday and Thursday to work out whatever she's got for you," Coach had said.

I shook my head adamantly and told him no. No way was I going to have a witness to my efforts in the degrading "sport" of ballet. I didn't care if Lawrence would also be subjected, we weren't going to be skipping into that place like two bestie girlfriends ready for class.

"You sure that is the reason?" Coach smirked.

"Fuck yeah," I scoffed while turning and leaving his office. I didn't believe me though. I had been with Giselle, three times if you included yesterday's practice and every time had been fun. Getting her riled up and seeing how she responded was something I was looking forward to tonight, and I sure as fuck didn't want Lawrence involved.

I tried opening the door to the studio at exactly 9 pm Tuesday, but it was locked. I peeked into the slit in the blinds on the door, but it was hard to see in. I had just sat there and watched the munchkins leave so I knew she was in there.

"Hey, Miss Priss," I knocked and yelled, hoping she heard and let me in.

It only took a minute and she was unlocking the door and ushering me in quickly.

"Come in, come in," she whispered. She locked us in once the door was shut and peeked outside the blinds real quick. I was taking off my shoes while I watched her, setting my keys on a chair inside the lobby.

When the keys jingled against the plastic of the chair, she swirled around and gave me her best front.

"Hi, so good to see you," her smile was fake and the worry lines still lingering on her forehead had me worried. "Let's get started."

She clapped twice, the way she did when she had spoken and I was to follow. I walked behind her from the reception area to the studio and paid close attention to her body language.

Her shoulders had tension, her steps were short. Her neck barely moved and her fists were clenching and unclenching.

"You ok?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

She turned and had the same fake smile on her face, "Of course."

I chewed my lip and nodded, letting it go. I wasn’t anyone to her, so I didn't want to push. Plus, I had an asshole reputation to uphold and I needed to get to work on that.

"Good, because I came up with some things that you suck at," I said as seriously as I could.

"Excuse me?"

"You're too thin, for one." I held up one finger and ticked it off with the fingers on my other hand. "Second of all, I am 87% sure you have a stick shoved way up your ass."

She started to turn red, and I could see her slipping from the poise she tried carrying. Normally that poise was infallible, but I could sense tonight she was weak, and I pounced.

"Also," I ticked a third finger, "You don't belong on a football field. You looked ridiculous." Fuck that was a lie. She looked like she was there to do a job and like we should have all been bowing down to her superiority. But I was on a roll and her face was telling me I was hitting buttons.

"That we can agree on, Mr. Black," she spoke through clenched teeth. "I didn't want to be near that field but when I ran into Mr. Peyton in the gym of our building, we came up with a plan to expedite your ballet lessons to help you improve on the field."

"Did it work?"

"I don't know yet, instead of discussing that with you, you have been insulting me."

I shook my head and smiled incredulously, "Whatever."

"Did you notice you are stepping off from your heels when you run?"

I swung my head to her and squinted in disbelief. "I have played football my whole life and I just now forgot how to run?"

"Maybe? Or maybe you are not thinking about it so your body is taking the motion without your consent."

"What the fuck?"

"We need to retrain you to push off with your toes." She grabbed the case of the iPad she had at practice the day before and walked toward me. "Let me show you what I mean."

She got close to me, closer than she had been before. Close enough that for the first time, I could smell her and feel her. She smelled floral and her arm against mine felt warm and soft. The top of her bun came to my shoulders and I could see her iPad clearly standing right behind her left shoulder.

She hit play on a video of me setting up on the line, waiting for Cam to say go. She played it once at regular speed and slowed it down the second time. The video zoomed in on my feet and she was not fucking wrong, I was flat footed and didn't even realize it.

If I had thought that video was a fluke, she continued to show me several more with the same problem. Over and over again, I took off slowly and almost from my heel, like she had said. She left the iPad in my hands and walked away, but I kept hitting replay.

"Fuck!" I yelled before throwing her iPad across the room. "What else, Miss Perfect?"

She jumped at my outburst and her eyes started darting side to side. I scared the fuck out of her and didn't mean to, but seeing myself fuck up in the most basic manner was a hard pill to swallow.

"Sorry," I muttered, picking the iPad up from the floor. It wasn’t broken so I closed the case and handed it to her. She gently took it and set it on the table she had by the mirror.

"Um," she said, which caught my attention. She never said words like 'um.' She was too put together for the likes of such a mundane word. "Let’s try to focus a little. In ballet, we learn the classical walk early on. That would have been a few weeks away for us, but since I was able to see it's need first hand, we can head straight to it."

I tamped down my anger and took my spot facing the mirror. She stood a few feet away and encouraged me to follow along. "When a dancer walks, they are rolling through their foot starting with the toe, into the ball of the foot, then finally the heel. Also, the dancer must keep their legs and feet turned right the whole time."

She did a walk and then motioned for me to mimic her. I was too pissed at myself to argue so I followed her instruction and made changes when she told me to. We walked from one side of the studio to the other and after a while, her excitement started shining through.

"Yes!" she clapped once. "You have it."

I felt like an idiot, prancing around the fucking wooden floor and pointing my toes. I had to admit though, her being excited was worth my pain. It was almost infectious and had I not been a little rough around the edges, I would have clapped too.

"Now, let’s go across one more time, but this time, I want you to close your eyes and focus. I want you to tune everything out and see in your mind the way your feet are touching."

"Wouldn't it make more sense if I did this on the field instead of here?" I mean shit, didn't it?

She shrugged, another un-Miss Priss-like move, "It is not uncommon for football players to take ballet, I think they just keep it to themselves. But this is an environment where there are no other missions than to focus on pointed toes. Or focus on whatever we need to. The field is loud for a player, and this is an alternative place to find those steps."

That actually made sense, and I wondered who else on my team had taken ballet and I didn't know about it. Coach is the one that set this up, so I bet he did it in his day. It didn't make this any less awkward but I was curious if I could apply this to the field tomorrow.

"So that’s it? We’re done?"

"You and I both wish, Mr. Black. Thursday we need to talk about twirling your body more fluidly."

I didn't respond, I just closed my eyes and started classical walking across the studio. I got close to the other wall and opened my eyes before I ran into it full force. I turned a little twirl, hoping I could show Giselle that I was a master twirler but I almost fell.

Then a miracle happened.

She laughed. A real and full laugh that showed teeth and tongue and tears. She put a hand on her hip and shook her head at my foul.

"Yep, working on that Thursday," was all she said before gathering her things.

I smirked at her, somehow lighter now that I knew she was capable of laughing, and made my way to the door. I slid my shoes on and she waited by the door to let us out.

Maybe it was the lighter spirit, or maybe it was just my curiosity, but I had to ask. "You walk home in that?"

She looked down at herself and swiped a hand down her skirt. "Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays since I am here late. Saves time not to change."

I thought about how she ran every time I saw her and wondered if there was something she was scared of. The first night I was here, she was scared. Tonight she looked shaken when I first arrived. If I waited on her, would she take the time to change? Maybe she didn't want to be here alone.

"I can wait on you if you want to change," I suggested.

"Another insult?" she asked, tilting her head and looking down where I sat to put my shoes on.

"No, just offering," I shrugged and stood up. "Didn't know if you preferred to cover up before walking home."

"How do you know I walk?"

My eyes widened because I didn't want to tell her I watched her actually run, but I had a back up plan. "You and Coach live in the same building, and it’s across the park, so I just assumed."

She acknowledged my words and nodded, "I am fine."

I held my hands up in surrender, "Sure thing."

But I was aggravated, probably more than I should be. Her tights and her short skirt may have covered her skin, but it didn't leave much to the imagination. If something or someone spooked her, walking around like that was not a good idea.

We walked out of the front door and I hung around as she locked up. I could see her hands starting to shake and she was having trouble getting the key into the hole. I pretended not to notice because she prided herself on her poise, but tonight, more than ever, I saw it slipping and it was killing me.

I thought it would be fun to see her break, but only if I was the one that broke her. I didn't like the fact that she was shaken up by something or someone else.

After she got the lock turned, she started walking across the street and toward the sidewalk next to the park. I could tell she wanted to start running but she wouldn't as long as I was in sight. Instead of veering down the alley toward my car, I got instep beside her and walked.

"What are you doing?" she asked, but didn't stop.

"Gotta go see Coach," I lied.

I walked into that place ready to bring her down a notch the way she did me, but I was leaving feeling a tad protective and worried. I knew she wouldn't let me walk her home so I told her I had to see Coach. Truth was, Coach was at the complex because he only went home on the weekends, if that. But Giselle didn't need to know that I felt better about seeing that she got home ok.

I could have settled on watching her like I did the week before, but I wanted her to feel safe. I may not have liked being in ballet. I may not have even liked Miss Priss that much. But I wasn’t a complete jerk and in a matter of an hour, she had grown on me a bit.

She didn't acknowledge what I said, just let me keep walking beside her. When we got to the lobby, I faked an incoming phone call and told her I would see her Thursday, that I had to take the call before I went up.

Instead, I waited for the elevator to close her in and I walked back to my car—the last few steps being a classical walk.

I was fucked.