Page 30 of The Way We Dance

"I don't know if I am more upset that I may lose my star student, or that Sam is being bullied."

"Being bullied is rough, it changes us," my words were barely a whisper as memories of being messed with because of how poor we were, how messed up my parents were, and who my brother was filtered around. I was bigger and tougher than Sam, and I fought my bullies with fists and feet until they realized I wasn't the one to fuck with.

But it still changed me.

"I just want the best for him," she sniffed before shaking the rest of her emotions off and stepping back onto her toes. "Let's get started now."

She clapped twice and turned to the phone that controlled the music. Without a word, she turned on the soft beat that we used for the classical walk and I started prancing across the studio without having to be told.

As much as I wanted to fuck with her, now wasn't the time; today wasn't the day. Plus, I had taken the focus she gave me on my toes and used it in practice the last two days. It legit helped and who was I to fuck that up? We had our first preseason game Sunday and I would do anything to keep the commentary off my poor play.

Our time went over our normal hour because we started late. It was like Giselle had a mental timer for exactly one hour so I just kept at it until she called it quits.

In addition to a classical walk, she introduced a leap into the mix. Oddly enough, I saw that coming in handy and wondered why I had never thought to leap with that same momentum and angle before now. You would think jumping to catch a ball would be something a player thought about and focused on, but the truth was, we mostly just ran on autopilot. We never overanalyzed our leaps until we sucked so bad it was what we had to do.

I started to think of some excuse to walk her home again. I could always tell her I had to visit Coach again, but I realized she was keeping in touch with him and may not believe me. It ran through my mind that I could always park in front of her building and then I wouldn't have to make an excuse.

Yeah, it would look funny for me to park that far away, but I could. I probably would. For tonight, I was going to at least tell her I did so I had the excuse. I didn't know what else she had going on, but added to the emotions with Sam, I wasn’t going to feel right with myself unless I made sure she got home ok.

Call me crazy.

Call me old school.

Call me whatever, but I was four times the size of her and if she was scared, there wasn't a chance in hell she didn't feel a little at ease with me hanging around.

"Um," she started to catch my attention as I tied my shoes back on. I was sitting in the reception area in a chair and looked up at her waiting by the door. I looked up quickly, too, because Miss Priss didn't use words like, UM. "Do you need to visit Mr. Peyton again?"

I stood up and angled my head, her eyes not quite meeting mine. "No," I said truthfully despite the fact that I was willing to lie to her three seconds ago.

"Oh ok, cool."

Oh ok, cool?What the fuck, Miss Priss?

"I did have to park over there though, so I am headed that way. You need me to stop by and see him for any reason?" Nope. She didn't. Plus, Coach was probably at the complex tonight.

"No, of course not, just wondering if you were going to head that way. I have some things I could use help carrying." No she didn't. She was as packed up and ready to go as I was and nothing in her hands was something she needed help with.

"Where is it? I can help."

"Oh never mind, I can get it tomorrow." That is because there isn't anything to get. But now that she knew—or at least thought she knew—I parked over there, she didn't have to make an excuse.

I nodded and smirked, silently calling her bluff. She turned a little pink and turned around to unlock the door so we could leave. Outside, she closed up while I waited and we made our way across the park to her building.

"Thank you for what you said to Sam," she tucked a hair behind her ear that wasn’t even there because her hair was spun up so tight. The motion gave away her nerves, though, and I was finding it pretty endearing. "It was kind of nice seeing you... less jerky."

A laughed escaped my mouth and it felt so fucking good. She had me all mixed up and the whiplash was real.

"Not very often I lower the jerk level," I teased back. Which wasn’t so much of a tease because it was true. "Kind of nice seeing you lower the priss down a notch."

She smiled quickly and then steeled her jaw, "Do not get used to it."

"Back at ya. As soon as you get your shit together, I am going back to giving you shit."

Her smile returned but she stayed quiet, looking down at her feet as she walked. She was still in her ballet shoes and tights, a jacket thrown over her leotard for the smallest amount of modesty.

I swallowed hard, wanting to ask her what her deal was. I wanted to know why she rushed home, why she watched her back, why she kept her nose tilted up and her body ridged.

There were other things I wanted to know too. Things that were a little more unsettling. For instance, I wanted to know if she liked football, what she did for fun, and if she was dating anyone. I really wanted to know.

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