Breaking Pointe

Author's note: This is a story I wrote for fun. I had it in my head and figured I might as well write it out. Why not? Before I knew it, I was 20,000 words in and I knew I had to do SOMETHING with it, so I decided to post it here! I love wattpad (my favorite authors are northbynorth and JessGirl93 ). This is a teen fiction/romance book with some serious issues thrown in such as loss and eating disorders. Since I already have a lot of this written, I will be posting based on feedback so as long as people out there like it I will keep posting!  Please comment, vote, tell me what you think:) 

     The spirals on her paper flowed naturally from each other. They swirled and looped like a group of dancers, different and unique but beautiful and completely in sync. Arabella’s stomach gurgled from skipping lunch, but she ignored it. She had to skip lunch to finish her paper, right? She just didn’t have time for homework these days because of all the time she spent at the studio. Yes, she convinced herself, skipping lunch was definitely necessary. 

“Arabella, may I speak to you for a second?” said Mr. Smith. She walked over to his desk. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You seem distant. I know loss can be hard and...”

“I’m fine.” Arabella mumbled and fled. Mr. Smith was a great teacher and meant the best, but she was tired of people that “knew what she was going through” and “wanted to help.” She could deal with it herself. Head down and ballet flats flying, she wasn’t paying attention to anything but putting as much distance between herself and that classroom as possible. Her delicate shoulder slammed into something hard and her books went flying. Worksheets with doodles all over them and sketches scattered the floor. Her mind flashed to her mother’s face. Her mom with a smile and a stack of books so tall she couldn’t see over them. . . she tripped and. . . 

A strong hand grasped her shoulder, pulling her out of the memory. “I’m sorry ma’am, are you alright?” said a deep voice. Gritting her teeth, Arabella pushed her mother’s face out of her mind and focused on what she had hit. She gasped. Her shoulder had rebounded off of a muscled chest covered in a gray concert tee shirt. She couldn’t name the man in a cowboy hat featured on the front, but she recognized him to be famous. At 5’9”, Arabella was the tallest girl she knew so if her shoulder had slammed into his chest, she knew he had to be well over six feet tall.

“Ma’am?” said a worried sounding voice with a thick southern accent that sent warm chills down her spine. Her eyes moved from his chest to his face and she dropped her bag, too. He wore his medium length, dirty blonde hair messy, like he had recently run his fingers through it. He didn’t have a beard, but his square jaw wasn’t perfectly smooth either. It looked just a little rough and she wondered what it would feel like to touch. When she looked into his big, brown eyes they were searching hers. She realized she hadn’t moved since the collision and was still standing awkwardly tensed, his hand on her shoulder. Suddenly she was very aware of her shoulder where her loose top had slid down a little and his hand was touching her bare skin. She felt her cheeks flush and she looked down at her shoes.

Arabella swallowed and nodded. His mouth turned up into a grin and his eyes twinkled. “Let me help you with that,” he said as he released her shoulder, apparently deciding she was capable of standing on her own. Arabella finally snapped out of her daze and bent down to help. pulling her shirt back up over her shoulder. She frantically grabbed papers and the other contents of her bag that had spilled onto the floor. If she didn’t hurry she would be late to ballet and her instructor would not be happy. 

“So you like to draw?” asked the mystery guy in his hypnotizing accent. Where could he be from? Georgia? Tennessee? She had no experience with southern people so she couldn’t place it. “These are good.” he smiled and he looked into her eyes again. Arabella couldn’t help thinking that they were the prettiest brown eyes she had ever seen, and she blushed again as she got a little lost in them. They looked at her expectantly and she realized he was waiting for an answer. Again. The problem was she couldn’t remember what he had asked.

“I’m late,” she finally said, and hurried off with her things cradled in her arms. Arabella went straight down the hall and out the doors. Stopping at the red-lighted crosswalk, she managed to cram it all back into her bag. At the rate she was going, she would be about 10 minutes late. Unacceptable in her instructor Tina’s book. Arabella could hear her now saying, “Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable!”

“Damn!” she exclaimed out loud when she realized her right pointe slipper was nowhere to be found.

“Hey! Cinderella!” said a deep voice. She spun around shocked to see a head above the crowd on the New York sidewalk, and an arm above that holding a pink ballet slipper. Arabella sighed in relief. She almost laughed out loud at how out of  place he looked, and how out of place the slipper looked in his hand. He pushed through the crowd as fast as he possibly could and arrived in front of her out of breath. He held the shoe out to her and when his eyes met hers she couldn’t hold back a smile.

“I thought you might need this,” he panted, and gestured for her to take the shoe. She gratefully put it in her bag. He smiled and ran his hands through his hair. She must have been right about how he achieved his tousled ‘do.

“Thank you so much, I definitely owe you one,” Arabella said, finally finding the right words to say.

“I may take you up on that,” he winked, stepping a little closer. He held his hand out. “I’m. . .” he started, trailing off when he saw her anxiously checking her watch. “Are you late? I’m sorry, this is all my fault.” he said, looking genuinely guilty. 

She dismissed his apology, “I wasn’t looking where I was going, now if you could excuse me I really need to get to ballet.” She looked over his shoulder and grimaced when she saw that she had missed her chance to cross and the light was red again. Now she would be 15 minutes late. Tina was going to be furious. She smiled at him quickly and turned to walk toward the street, determined not to miss another chance to cross. 

He grabbed her hand and sparks shot up her arm. Arabella drew a quick breath in surprise. His hand was calloused and strong, so big it almost completely encased hers. His deep southern voice said, ‘Do you need a ride? My truck is just around the corner.” She thought about it. Getting into a vehicle with him worried her, after all she didn’t even know him. Anyone that grew up in the big apple could tell you that stranger danger is pounded into your head practically since birth. On the other hand she thought of Tina’s face the last time she had shown up late. Nothing was scarier than that, and that was only ten minutes. Arabella looked at her watch and then into his big, hopeful brown eyes and her mind was made up. 

“Just this once,” she sighed. She hated favors from people, but he looked more than happy. Actually, his face absolutely lit up. He grinned as he dropped her hand and pointed in the direction they needed to go. 

“This way, ma’am,” he said, and she felt her heart respond with a little skip that was becoming all too familiar.