The Queerest [🗸]

my hatred for wednesdays

Tris offers me a thumbs up, eager nods traveling throughout the space. 

And so, we begin.

It's easy doing this.

The type of easy that's like second fucking nature to me. After all, I grew up in this program. The least I could do is give back. 

My lips curve upwards as I carefully guide the steps, watching the kids mirror them. 

The pay check is also pretty fucking necessary, especially if I ever want to get out of this town. However, might stick around a little bit longer. Just for my classes.

My lips purse. I usually only teach a one-on-one type of class. This one's rare for me, what with there being about four kids that I'm teaching. Four kids that I'm guiding. Four kids that I'm paying attention to.

But, it's freeing. Freeing when I'm spinning around. Freeing when I'm catching breaths of laughter from clumsy mistakes.

Shit, freeing just due to the fact that I'm dancing.

Because that feeling isn't a feeling like any other.

Maybe with the exception of skateboarding, though. 

Don't really know how I fucking ended up at the skatepark. But, I'm pretty certain it has everything to do with my fucking exhaustion. Exhaustion due to Ella and Cath. Exhaustion due to Ryder.

Exhaustion due to how I feel about Riya Khatri.

And what do I feel? A stupid fucking pull that has me walking into her skatepark, and borrowing one of her friends' skateboards, and doing her type of skating. I was pulled into her world, and she let me visit. 

Fuck, she let me visit. Let me visit when I was about one hundred percent sure she was going to kick me out of it. 

I would've deserved it, anyway.

Thoughts roam through my mind as the dance class hums to a careful end. Before I can blink, minutes melt into an hour. 

And in moments, parents are emerging into the space, byes are floating to the air, and I'm waving, leaning against the silver railing as the room becomes empty once more.

Riya flies to my mind again, because now, there's no one to distract me from the chaos occurring in my brain.

Stop fucking thinking about her.

Instead, I shake my head as a lazy-ass attempt to shake her out of it. Reaching for my phone, I scroll through my playlist, selecting a song to burst through the atmosphere. Dancing With A Stranger. 

And despite the fact that it feels strangely fucking personal, strangely fucking intense, my feeling manage to pour out. And suddenly, I'm not thinking about the shitty day-to-day life I tolerate. I'm not thinking about the girl with dark hair and a pretty birthmark. 

I'm not thinking about the fact that tomorrow is Wednesday, and I've barely made it halfway through the week despite the fact that it's felt like fucking years.

No, I don't think. Instead, I spin and turn, and let gentle smiles paint at my lips. The music infuses my lungs, and I'm lost in the moment.

And fuck do I love the feeling.

***

While walking through the hallway, my backpack swinging behind me as I carefully make my way through the school, my mind flickers to a million reasons why Wednesdays are Shit, and why this particular Wednesday is the Shittiest.