Dance with Me [h.s] (Completed)

Chapter 7

I sleep in the next morning, grateful to not have any classes today to teach. I'm meeting Zayn at two to rehearse for our competition on Saturday. I feel incredibly nervous about seeing him again. Last night, he completely blindsided me by him admitting he wanted more from me. Zayn has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. On the few occasions that I've thought about him as a potential boyfriend, I've remembered what would happen if it went horribly wrong and I lost him completely. I don't know if I'm strong enough to lose such an important person in my life.

I think about our friendship over the last few months. I guess, looking back, I can see how he has probably been giving me hints for awhile now. He's been extra touchy with me, always wanting to have his arm on my shoulder, or touching my waist. I didn't think anything of it because he was my dance partner. We touched each other constantly in that environment. I assumed it was just a carryover from that. I realize he has also been a lot more protective over me and even possessive at times, like when Harry came into the studio.

And then I think about Harry. I think about how attracted I am to him, in a way that I've never felt before. And it's not that Zayn's not attractive, he is, but Harry makes me feel like a woman, not some petite, young girl. So many men that I've dated have always treated me like I'm some ditzy little girl because of my small size. I always hated it. But Harry doesn't look at me like that. He looks at me like I'm a powerful woman, and I like that feeling.

Even within my family, being the only girl with three older brothers, I was treated differently. As if I was somehow less capable than them. And it made me angry to be considered less than. Maybe that's why I pushed myself so hard with the dancing. Placing second in the world when I was only eighteen was no small feat.  I sacrificed so much to get there and then we were beat by the reigning champions. It felt like a punch in the gut because I thought we performed better. I thought that they didn't let us win because we were so young and toed the line on some of the rules, trying to shake up the dance culture. Ever since then, I've scaled it back, always erring on the side of conservative. That's why I didn't want anyone to know about my new job. I was scared of the punitive damage I might face in the competitive dance community.

I shower and put my hair into a top knot. I pull on my Nike dri-fit spandex shorts, an oversized t-shirt and socks with slides. I pack my dance bag and proceed to make the forty minute walk to the studio. I usually take the bus but I feel like my mind needs the fresh air. I get there before Zayn, saying Hi to Rosa as I come in.

"I got my tickets for Saturday!"

"Oh Rosa, you are so sweet. You don't have to come!"

"Of course, I'm coming. I'd never miss it!"

I get into the studio and begin stretching, my calves feeling extra tight from so much time spent in heels lately. Zayn comes in as I'm stretching my hips out, always paying close attention to them after my injury. They're tighter than usual, like I'm holding all my tension in them.

"Hey," he says to me, leaning down to kiss the top of my head like he usually does when he sees me. Now it feels different, like it means something else now. Or it means something else to him, and so now I don't know if I want him to do it.

"Hey," I say back nervously.

"You been here, long? I went by your place to pick you up but you weren't there."

"Oh, sorry. I walked today so I left earlier than usual."

He looks at me for a second, analyzing me. It doesn't take him long to figure me out; years of practice.

"You're overthinking things."

"No, I'm not," I say defensively, knowing full well he's right.

"Why don't we not talk about this until after the competition? We can forget I even said it until then."