Bad Boys & True Love

The closer and closer we get to our ballet recital, the more Miss Silver freaks out. So close to the recital, her usually prim and perfect up-do was a scraggly mess. She was more wound up, too. Maya—poor, sweet Maya—didn’t mess anything up that I could see, but Miss Silver criticized her form until Maya was nearly in tears.

Four of us had solos. For the first time, I was considering myself unlucky to be one of the four. I was fire, which was all too fitting with my newly dyed hair, but it meant I was under severe scrutiny. I didn’t get the verbal abuse as much as some of the other dancers, but lesson was miserable anyway.

None of us dared to talk back. I’d sooner rob a bank than put up a fight with Miss Silver. We all took it in silence.

By the end of it, we were all exhausted. Physically and emotionally. Miss Silver was cursing under her breath in what sounded like French.

“I’ve never hated a person more in my entire life,” Maya growled as we exited together. She supported my weight as I limped along. My ankle was hurt after I had to repeatedly redo my pirouette until it was to satisfaction, but nothing too serious. It just hurt like a bitch.

I sighed. “I guess I can’t blame her. Our performance reflects on Silver Lining so, you know, we kinda have to rock.”

Maya gritted her teeth. It was weird seeing her pissed off—not that I blamed her. But she was always so nice. Angry was practically an antonym for Maya. “I still can’t believe what she said to me.”

I winced at the memory. Maya must have thought it was my ankle because she adjusted her support. “Yeah, that was bad.”

“‘You call that a plié? What sort of plié is that? Do it a bajillion more times because I’m old and bitter,’” she mimicked in a weak impersonation.

“I’m really sorry, Maya,” I said. I wasn’t so good at comforting.

Thankfully, my dad pulled up in the minivan, saving me from the impossible task of being a friend. “I got it,” I said to Maya before she could help me into the car, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“RICE your ankle!” she replied before I closed the door. I waved goodbye as we drove away.

“RICE? What happened to your ankle?” my dad asked, his eyebrows pulled in and his lips pulled down, the picture of concern.

I lifted my leg and rested it carefully on the dashboard, showing him the slightly swollen joint. “It’s no big deal. RICE just means ‘rest, ice, compression and elevation.’ Just to help it out.” I wouldn’t have to tell mom this. She’s usually the one wrapping it up for me.

“Ah,” he said, relaxing. “So you’re good for your recital.”

“Yes, Dad,” I muttered.

“Are you excited?” he asked.

I smiled. “At this point I’m ready for it to be over with.”

He grinned and ruffed my hair like I was still a little kid. “Ah, you’ll get over it. You love ballet. You’re my little ballerina.” I laughed, but he only sighed. “I’m not ready to give you away.”

My eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking about, Dad? I’m not getting married,” I said with a weak chuckle. “And, besides, I’ll always be your little ballerina.”

“Say that do the boy waiting for you to get home,” he grumbled.

My heartbeat quickened, the pulse pounding in my ears. “What boy? Who is it?”

He didn’t respond but we reached the house soon enough. Sean was sitting on the porch swing with my mom. He smiled at me when we pulled up. Dad gave him a sour look. “Dad, you know Sean,” I mumbled. My face felt like it was on fire.

I watched my dad go inside without even glancing Sean’s way, feeling like I should have apologized for…I didn’t even know what. I got out of the car slowly. My mom zeroed in on my ankle in .2 seconds flat. “Oh, Stella,” she sighed before going inside to get me ice.

I took her place on the swing. I smiled at Sean but he didn’t return it. “Are you hurt?” he asked, sounding worried.

I bit my lip. I couldn’t get the picture of him leaning in to kiss me out of my head. I was a stupid idiot for saying no. Stupid, stupid Stella. “I’ll be okay,” I said. “Just had a rough day.”

His hand found mine and laced our fingers together. “Good,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” I replied, sounding much more breathless than I intended. When his thumb stroked my palm I’m pretty sure I actually did stop breathing momentarily.

“Sean, bring her inside and put her on the couch, will ya?” My mom called from inside the house.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, grinning at me. He stood up, unfortunately detaching his hand from mine, and scooped me out of my seat.

I buried my face in my hands to hide the raging blush. “I feel so pathetic,” I groaned. He set me down on the couch gently before taking the seat next to me. Mom tossed him a bag of ice.

“Do me a favor and keep her off her feet for a while,” Mom said. “Oh, and try to elevate the ankle. Higher than her heart."

Before I could even react, Sean pulled my legs until I was flat on my back. He held my ankle in his lap and gently pressed down the ice pack. The second it touched my flesh I let out a hiss. “Nooo,” I moaned. “It’s too cold!”

He chuckled. “That’s such a point. Quit being a baby.”

“Ice your ankle then. Let’s see how you like it.”

Sean rolled his eyes.

“It’d help if you gave me a foot massage,” I said half-jokingly. I seriously hadn’t expected him to take off my shoe and do it, but he did. My head fell back and I let out a groan. “Oh, my God.” Definitely worth having a hurt ankle.

He rubbed his thumbs deep into the arc of my feet. “You owe me,” he teased.

“I so owe you,” I sighed.

“Go out with me.”

I sucked in my breath. If he noticed my freeze then he didn’t say anything. Thank God my parents weren’t in the room. I felt awkward enough. “When?” I whispered. My voice chose now of all times to fail me.

“How about tomorrow?” he mused happily, still massaging my feet like we were having a plain ol’ conversation.

“Yeah.”

His hands stopped. I propped myself up on my elbows to look at him. “Yeah?”

I nodded. His smile was so wide I could have counted all his teeth. If there were perfect time to kiss him, it would be now. I sat the rest of the way up. Maybe Sean knew what I wanted, or wanted the same thing—regardless, his hand reached up to cup my face as our lips met.