Page 28 of Skating the Blue Line
God, why am I overthinking this so much?
The guy I slept with last night gave me his number, that’s it. There is no need to think about the things that can possibly happen.
I doubt Liam is thinking this hard about what our night together can possibly turn into, so I shouldn’t either.
Besides, I have other things to worry about, like going to the grocery store and breaking in a new set of pointe shoes for the week.
Something that they don’t tell you about being a ballerina, or any professional dancer at that, is the amount of dance shoes you go through in such a short period of time.
During the off season, I go through about ten pairs of shoes in about three months and that’s only with one dance class and two or three practices a week. When performance season comes around, I’m going through double if not triple the amount in a given month. It’s nuts.
If it wasn’t for the dance company giving its dancers free shoes whenever they need them, I would go broke buying new ones every few days.
But I’m exactly where I want to be.
I’ve dreamt about being a professional dancer, a ballerina for as long as I can remember. From the day my mom took me to my first dance class, I knew that that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
Being on stage, with a spotlight on me called my name and for years I did everything in my power to accomplish it.
It kicked my ass on more than a handful of occasions and there were more than a few times that I wanted to quit, but I didn’t.
And good thing too because if I had, I wouldn’t be where I am today. A part of one of the most well known and respected dance companies in the world, being the ballerina that I wanted to be when I was three years old.
I’m at the height of my career and going up higher is the only option I see fit.
Three year old Chloe would be very proud.
Sure, dancing has taken a lot of my time in the last ten years. I’ve lost friendships because of it, I don’t get to see my family as often as I want and it definitely hurts, but I’m doing something for myself. I dance because I love it and it’s whatIwant to do. I’m not forcing myself to do it and in a few years when I finally decide to hang up my pointe shoes, I know I will be happy about it.
Well, hopefully. Things can change.
But fingers crossed things stay how they are for a little while.
For now, I ignore the phone number sitting on my counter and go do what I had planned.
As much as I try though, I can’t seem to think about anything else other than Liam.
Thoughts of our night together and how he controlled my body invaded every single inch of my mind.
Nobody has made my body sing the way he did and as I think about it, I can’t help but want more.
I almost give in and text him just that when I get back to my apartment, but I don’t. Thank god.
If Liam and I become friends, those are definitely not things I should be thinking about. No matter how good they feel.
By afternoon, I somewhat succeeded in keeping Liam out of my head. He only crept in a few times, and I see that as a win.
Around dinner, though, all that goes down the drain and it’s all thanks to a text message from Betty.
Betty: So, how was the party? Any sugar daddies that I need to know about?
Should I tell her?
A part of me wants to keep Liam and our short time together to myself but the other part, really wants to tell my best friend. I had a professional hockey player in my bed for crying out loud, that’s worth sharing with her.
Besides, Liam didn’t say I couldn’t.
I text her back.
