Page 138 of The Breaking Pointe
The way her perfectly perched tutu flares out as she spins, the elegance of her pointed toes, and the seamless way she transitions from one move to another is more than captivating.I want to freeze the moment in time—this moment. She isn’t just a dancer, and I despise anyone who disagrees. Because right now, she’s an artist, channeling her heart. This is her one, true love, and there’s no other place she would rather be than on that stage with these young girls.
The way she loves the girls. I see the warmth and encour- agement she gives them, even on stage with them, now.Her laughter spills over like the sweetest music, echoing out into the audience as they dance around her.They admire her, and so do I. I admire her dedication, and her commitment to nurturing others while still pouring herself into this world. Watching her now, and in this moment—watching her lead, I realize this for sure:
How I’ve fallen deeply, fervently in love with her.
I get it now, the passion that fuels her, and makes her so damn hopeful. It fills me with more than joy to witness her shine.This is bigger than ballet and a performance—it’s letting me into her universe, and telling me she wants me to be a part of it. I can feel her energy radiating, and I can see other people taking it in, just like me. I have to tell her the very next chance that I get.
I have to tell her that I am utterly, and irrevocably in love with her.
With what I’m feeling, by the time the show ends, I know I have to have Noelle for myself, tonight, the minuteI see her
backstage.She looks like the spitting image of an angel— draped in all white.I take her to a nice dinner after the show, but I’m fucking aching looking at her across the table. And all these people around us have no idea. I could give a shit about whatever is on my dinner plate when she’s sitting in my atmosphere, looking like she does.A white dress, to match her theme for the night.
God, I love themes so much now.If it means she gets to play dress up, then I’ll never say no.
“I’m pretty full. You’re not eating,” she says, taking the last bite of her salad.
I zone back in, bringing my eyes from the low dip of her dress.
“Sorry.Just—distracted,” I say, resuming eating my meal of steak, potatoes, and Brussel sprouts.
“You don’t say.”She gives a little smile behind her napkin cloth, covering her mouth. “You’ve been quiet since we got here.”
“The view is very nice,” I lament, watching her as I take a bite of food. “Kind of hard to focus on my food, if you get what I mean.”
She grazes her foot along my leg and takes a sip of her wine. “I bet.”
My chewing slows down as I feel her foot rise higher on my leg, slowly setting my fork down and swallowing it.I direct my eyes to her, glaring lustfully.
“Yes?”sheasks.
“You’re messing with me, right?”I ask, sitting back in my seat.
“I’mnotdoinganything.”Shesmiles.
My cheeks raise as I smile back in amusement, scoffing.
“You got something you wanna say?”She folds her arms over the table, keeping her smile present.
“You don’t want all these people to hear that, sweet girl,” I say sincerely, shaking my head.
She runs some fingers down the column of her neck. It’s on full display, as her hair is still in the tight bun from the show, except a few curls had fallen out from her dancing. Meaning I can see every part of her delicate, freckled neck.
“Well, I wanna know,” she says.
“I bet you do,” I say, running my tongue along my teeth. “You like it. Making me so riled up.”
She nods, accepting that I’ve caught onto her. “I’m afraid so.”
The waiter walks over to us, starting to fill our glasses more. I glance at him, then look back at Noelle.
“Can we have the check, please?”I adjust my shirt and belt. “Sure thing,” he says, stopping his pour and heading back to the kitchen.
“The check? Someone’s impatient,” Noelle says, trying to hide her smile.
“Can you tell?”I ask, taking out my wallet.I fish out a good bit of bills, estimating how much I’ll need to cover, and set it on the table.
“Just a little bit,” she says, pinching two fingers closely together.
