Dancer

I blow my bangs out of my face as I stare down at the application paper in front of me. Paris École de Ballet. Tuition: 54,300. Then there's the cost of private dance classes which are $200 an hour. Roughly, I have about a year and two months to get enough money to pay, if I'm lucky, for one year. I silently add to myself. I continue scanning the sheet, I need to write two essays, get an audition, and pretty much be physically perfect.

"Andy, two caramel-mocha fraps." I look up to see my friend, the owner of the coffee house, Rachel giving me an incredulous look.

I put the paper down under the counter, "Sorry." I say quickly as I fix my ponytail and start working on the order.

"It's fine, after you make those you can take a break and start filling out your application." She replies throwing a towel over her shoulder.

I sigh as I grab the items for the drinks, "I'm not going to get into the school, Rachel."

She rounds the counter with two plates of pastries and places them in front of a group of friends sitting by the window. When she returns, I'm blending the drinks together. "Don't say that, you have to stay positive! Plus, you're adorable! You're going to get great tips!"

I give her an incredulous look before looking down at myself. Worn down, dirty sneakers that I refuse to replace because new shoes are expensive, black chef's apron that goes to mid-thigh, moss green T-shirt that clings to my petite figure. I look back up at Rachel, "Yeah, real adorable." I say flatly as I grab the application paper once more and find an empty table close to the register.

She smiles as she tosses a pen at me, "Get to work on that paper!" She laughs.

"Rachel, it's one of the busiest hours..." I say.

"Work on your application and I'll make you your favorite." She replies sternly before disappearing through the door right behind the counter and going into the kitchen.

I sigh and start filling out the form. After carefully filling out most of the application for half an hour a worn down messenger bag is slammed onto the table making me jump. "Oh, sorry!" I look up to see a tall, lanky, young adult with messy sandy-blonde hair staring down at me apologetically.

"Hi." I reply slowly, glancing at him bag before looking back up at him.

"Um," He scratches the back of his neck, "There's no more open seats so could I sit here?" He asks slowly dropping his hand.

I sit there, staring at him for a moment before I finally blink and nod. "Yeah, sure. I should get-" I stop when I see Rachel waving her hands like a mad woman from behind the counter. No. She mouths giving me her dangerous look.

Who am I to compete with that look? "Actually, uh..." I try to piece together a sentence. To form a lie that says that I want to enjoy my "break" without making it seem like I’m interested in this stranger.

"No it's fine, I'll just sit on the ground." He says easily before he grabs his bag and proceeds to sit on the floor. Customers watch him.

I can't stop a laugh from escaping my lips, "You can sit here." I say.

"No, no. I'm fine down here. On the floor. The dirty, dirty floor." He replies.

I roll my eyes, "Okay. One: the floor is not dirty, and two: whatever-your-name-is, you need to get your butt on this chair," I point to the chair across from me, "And stop publicly humiliating yourself."

He smiles goofily up at me before he grabs his bag and scrambles up into the chair. "I'm Elijah, but I'm a big believer of nicknames so call me Eli." He glances at the application in front of me, "Wow, dance school. You’re applying?" He says.

"I'm Andrea, and I'm also a big believer of nicknames so call me Andy." I sigh, "And yes, dance school. I’m applying, but I don’t really have the money to pay the tuition… Thus, the reason why I’m working here." I add.

He smiles at my reply, "It fits."

“Excuse me?” I ask.

He gestures to me, “You look like a dancer.”

I absentmindedly start playing with my fingers, “And what does a dancer look like?” I ask.

He opens his mouth to reply when we hear; “Andy, I need you back here!” I look around to see Rachel peeking her head out of the kitchen door.

“Oh, I have to go.” I say standing up quickly and grabbing my paper, “But, um, I can take your order while I’m here.” I add quietly.

He smiles, “What’s your favorite thing to eat here?” He asks.

“Blueberry muffin.” I reply without missing a beat.

He nods, “I’ll take a plain blueberry muffin, and coffee. Black.”

I smile, “Okay, I’ll be back with that.”

“Collect the dishes.” Rachel tells me the moment I step into the kitchen and place my application down.

I sigh, “Um that guy wants a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin.” I add before I exit into the small café.

“He’s a keeper!” She yells just before the door closes. Eli’s gaze turns to me and I can feel the heat rushing towards my face.

I exhale before starting the dish collecting. I step lightly, like I would while doing a routine, as I pass tables my arms gracefully reach and collect the crumb-covered plates and empty cups. I twirl, collecting from tables on both sides of me before heading back into the kitchen. I could feel Eli’s eyes on me the whole time.

“That cute guy was staring at you the whole time you were collecting dishes. He didn’t even notice when I set his order down in front of him.” My co-worker, Kailey, says. Her shift starts when mine usually ends, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays our shifts overlap.

I shrug, “His name’s Eli, and maybe he’s just laughing internally at how ridiculous I am when I collect dishes.”

She rolls her eyes at me, “Yeah, sure.” She replies disappearing into the front room with a cinnamon roll.

I shake my head at her before bringing the dishes to the sink and starting to wash them. When Kailey returns a while later, she has a huge mischievous smile adorned on her lips, “Go check the table that Mr. Cutie sat at.” She tells me.

“His name’s Eli.” I correct flatly, “And if you can’t tell, I’m sort of busy.” I pull my soapy hands out of the searing hot water to show them to her.

“Well wash up, I’ll finish here!” She demands walking over and gently nudging me to the side before continuing to wash the dishes.

I groan but comply. After washing and drying my hands I go to the front room and to the table where Eli was sitting. I have to hold back a gasp. “He paid for the coffee and muffin and then left that for you.” Rachel says as she leans on the counter next to the register.

I look at her and then back down at the thirty dollars placed in the center of the table. “His order was only like five dollars, why would he leave all this?”

“Because he likes you!” I hear Kailey shout from the kitchen.

I roll my eyes and take the money, putting it into my pocket, “If he comes back here I’m giving it back.” I mutter as I walk by Rachel and back into the kitchen.

“No you won’t.” I hear her laugh just before the door shuts.

I grimace, she’s right. I need all the money I can get; I definitely won’t give it back to him. Mistake or no mistake, it’s mine now.