Pointe Shoes and Spider Webs

11. The Science Guy

Peter waited outside the ballet school for what felt like forever. Usually they both showed up too early for their private classes, but this time it was just him. They should've started over half an hour ago. He sits on the stairs, staring at the one white carnation that he bought. He twists it with his fingers, studying the veins in the leaves. The half hour turns into forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes turn into an hour. He won't leave. He's not going to give up.

Suddenly a pair of feet stop right in front of him. He looks up and makes eye contact with Daphne. She has her lips pressed on top of each other and her brows are curled into a frown. Peter wants to say everything that's on his mind, but he can't get the words out. He just sits there, flower in hand.
"Sorry I'm late," she says softly. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to come." Ouch.
"I'm glad you're here." He stands up slowly. "And I'm sorry about Tuesday."

He offers her the carnation, but she just stares at it, torn about whether or not she should accept it. She swallows. Instead of taking the carnation, she moves past him and walks to the door. She opens it, turns off the alarm and walks back out to Peter, who's still standing there with the carnation in his hand.
"Me too," she whispers. She gently takes the carnation out of his hand and to Peter's surprise she grabs the hand he held the flower in and leads him inside.

Peter sits on the bench in the changing room and he stares at his hand. He can feel his blood pumping through it in tune with his heartbeat and it's very warm. He rubs his thumb over his fingers, turns it into a fist and relaxes it again. Her hand was so soft. So gentle. So nice... Too much. Peter jolts to his feet and rushes to the sink. He turns it on and twists the tap to as cold as possible. He forces his hand under the icy stream and whimpers through the freezing cold.
"Peter?" Daphne asks from the other side of the door. "Are you alright in there?"
"Y-Yeah!" Peter stutters as he turns off the water and rips several paper towels from the device on the wall. He rubs his hand aggressively to get the overwhelming sensation out of it. "I'll be there in a minute!"

Daphne studies the carnation up close, quite similar to how Peter did before. Peter's 'minute' has turned into five minutes and she can still hear him stumbling through the changing room. As if on cue, Peter barges out the door, his face is flushed and he pants.
"Woah," she gets up from her chair and walks to Peter. "What were you doing in there? Are you okay?" When she reaches out to him, he takes a step back, raising his hands in defense. He looks almost scared of her.
"Please don't touch me anymore."
"What?" Daphne takes a step back, completely confused and slightly hurt.

"I-" Peter pauses, looking around frantically. "I'm hyper sensitive."
"Hyper... Wha- since when?" She looks at his hand and sees it's bright red.
"I don't know," he whimpers. "But it's only when I'm around you." He then realizes what he said and panic rumbles in his chest. "I mean- I've been way more sensitive than normal people for a while now, but you seem to send my nerve endings into overdrive when you touch me." Peter, just STOP talking. You're only making this worse!

"Peter..." Daphne looks worried, but less confused than she was before. "Follow me." She turns around and takes small strides to the dance hall. He follows without thinking, but staying a good bit away from her. When they get in the dance hall, she places the carnation in a glass and without warning she takes off the straps of her leotard. She pushes it down to her hips, exposing her skin, her back still towards him. She's not wearing a bra.
"Woah, woah, what are you do-"

The scars on her back stop Peter from continuing. They're elaborate. Peter tries to figure out what he's seeing. Branches? Frost?
"What the-"
"I got struck by lightning as a kid." Peter's eyes are glued to her back. "Don't ask me how I survived cause I have no clue."
"Nine out of ten people survive being struck by lightning," Peter mumbles, his eyes following the detailed lines of scarring. He can't look away and takes a step closer without realizing.
"I have regular check-ups with my doctor." Daphne keeps looking ahead, her jaw is tightened. Is she nervous? "I was in a coma for a few days and had some short-term memory loss. But no long-term effects. Yet."