Runaway Love

The smirks of the five spectators were priceless. The chemistry in the last minute had not only nearly knocked me off my feet, and the crowd's minds were equally blown. One man, with wildly styled hair and a crazy look in his eyes stood up and clapped. "I think we have a keeper!" he announced proudly. I smiled, geniunely glad something was going in the correct direction today.

"I agree. Welcome aboard the tour!" a man with short dark hair said with welcome. His baby face was endearing, but by the way he sat, I could tell he was in charge. Sadly, all the comfort in the world couldn't make the word tour sit well in my stomach. I just got to Atlanta, and now I'm departing again? You have got to be kidding me. I tried to weigh my emtions on whether I was thoughtful for the job or sickened by my careless behavior.

"Don't worry about it, babe, I got you," my dance partner coyly said with a wink. He then turned around and disapeared back stage, leaving me with my mouth open. Of course, checking out his ass as we walked away didn't help to set myself back on track. I mean, wow.

"You will get used to Justin," the dark haird man said, getting out of his chair and walking towards me. I could definately get used to Justin. "I'm Scooter Braun, I manage this tour and I'm really looking forward to that kind of heat onstage. We will be doing 86 shows, it'll be a rough schedule, but it seems you are up to it, right?"

"Uh, yes. I hope so," I decided I could do this only momentarily before opening my mouth. It seems I was gliding with this leap of faith. I just wanted to find a new home in Atlanta, but it seems I would be seeing the whole country.

"Okay, good. For the next four days be here at noon to get cheorography learned and the stage works figured out. We depart next week for Conneticut."



I stood in front of my mirror, an hour before my first practice was to begin. I played around with my long hair until it was fixed into a thick braid. An over-sized neon pink tank top hung on my shoulders, it nearly glowed against my Puerto Rican skin tone. I pulled on a pair of black leggings, slid on my broken-in dance shoes and a jacket before dashing out the door.

I arrived thirty minutes early to set a good impression. Though, it seemed there was no one to set an impression with... The place was empty. I decided to hop onstage anyway and warm -up. A small boom-box had bet set at center stage. Compulsively, I hit play. I rolled my shoulders backwards and just listened.

An R&B, relaxed beat rolled around the room. I slowly lifted my arms, brought them back down. I methodically rolled my head around, picked up my right foot, then left and began. Letting go was a beauty I found in my dance. I allowed my body to freely caress the air, kick high, and get lost. Among my motions, I heard a sweet voice. Deja vu.

In a fashion I had begun to expect of him, Justin appeared out of thin air at my side. He draped his arm on my waist, and I swayed back an forth. His breath on my neck made coldchills arise quickly. I spun away, grabbing his hand. We locked eyes, and I froze. He still held my hand, but my concentration had been shattered. I took in every feature of his. The big, brown eyes held me at a stand still, and his perfect pout was smirking.

A sigh to our right sent my head turning fast. Ten dancers and a man I presumed to be the cheorographer were staring. I started to blush under the heat of their raised eyebrows. Justin was chuckling behind me. I cracked a smile, in embarressment and coughed quietly to stir up the air.

"Well.... Shall we begin?"