This is a Cora Reilly Fan-Fiction, based around Greta Falcone and Amo Vitiello. The story is mostly told by Greta's POV. It is a story about finding oneself on the outskirts of your comfort zone, forbidden romance and stepping into your true self. T...
The house was abuzz from Adamo arriving late last night, surprising everybody. I loved Adamo and his family. Roman, his son, was the baby of the family and everybody loved spoiling him. I also pestered his wife, Dinara, with all things Russia, since it was on my top destinations to travel. Although ballet originated in Italy. Like me! It was really showcased and refined in Russia, building some of the most stunning architecture to go with it. Historical architecture was only something I could dream of, being a west coast girl. Although, I longed to have breakfast with everybody the next morning, I had to wake up extra early to get to the dance studio to have my private lesson with Irena. Irena had been my personal ballet teacher since I was ten. She'd attended a prestigious ballet school in Ukraine, as a result, when she was frustrated with me she'd yell in Ukrainian. I tried to practice the few phrases I had picked up with Dinara, as Ukrainian and Russian were somewhat similar. She could miraculously understood some of it! It was fun until dad yelled that he didn't want any more Russian infiltrating his house.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Today, Irena and I were picking out the tiniest infractions that could hinder me in a more advanced class. It was strenuous work of constantly adjusting every little move, add on top of that the mental frustration of not getting it right. This was my least favorite part of ballet, I loved getting a new piece to work on and interpreting it to my own character. This was the nitty gritty part of ballet: If my foot was one inch off or if my shoulders are too high in this position, I'm not looking in the right direction, I'm too tight in my turns. I did often complain to my fellow dancers, but never to my family. I hated that they held that power over me, to take away something I loved so dearly. Henceforth, I was careful. When I wanted to scream back a rash reply. Ballet. In a split second I considered if the reply was worth losing ballet for a week. I was naturally a very understanding and easy kid, but that didn't mean I didn't want to do something bad and not have the weight of the consequences above my head. It just drove me to be extra cautious, something that I didn't need in my already gently nature. Nevio was free. He didn't have anything that could be used against him in that sense, when he was younger it was always a PlayStation or a car. Now he owned both. Now, empty threats were all that was dished out to him. Me losing something so sacred as ballet would ruin me. I would never put myself in a position that would threaten that. "Very good, Greta, we will continue tomorrow, this is all we can do today," Irena said. I wasn't quite sure what we'd accomplished today but I was sweaty and tired so i guess that was a good sign. I loved the feeling after a long day of rigorous practice. I loved the feeling of giving it my all. I rubbed my feet in the back of the car and put on some compression socks. I would run home to get a shower in, then head to school for two of my classes.
I was more in the dance studio than I was at school, to help with the school work I had private tutors to help me. Granted, I knew I had these privileges because of my parents. Though, everything I was given I took with gratitude and took it a step further. I was always working on ballet even while making dinner I would do toe stretches. Through falling, bruises, sprains, getting back up to do it all again. To me they were such little prices to pay for the big picture. Ballet gave me so much more than it ever took away.
