|maneater z.m.|

ONE

aph·ro·dis·i·ac
noun
a food, drink, or drug that stimulates
sexual desire.

Higher! Ambrosia thought angrily, forcing her leg upwards. Her frustration, added to the stress she put on her recovering body, caused a loud scream to escape her lips. Her petite body fell to the floor, chest heaving up and down.

She stared at her reflection from the floor, hot tears leaving her eyes as she got up and tried her solo again. Messy hair stretching out in ungodly directions, Suffolk pointe shoes tied to her feet, and a mix of sweat and water soaking her lilac leotard as rain fell outside Miriam's School of Dance.

Everyone else- teachers, students, and workers- had left for the night. She stayed with the promise of locking herself in, occluding the door once she left, and returning home before 11. Her mother did not worry much- considering there was no room for disobedience when she tracked Ambrosia's sparkly pink phone and was very vigilant through the cameras of her dance studio.

"No no no no!" She screamed in pain after what felt like her hundredth failed attempt. She limped towards her gym bag and threw a baby pink colored stress ball to the wall angrily. Too tired to go pick it up, she left it there and called her half brother.

"Harry, I'm done with practice can you please come pick me up?"

"You should've been done watching hours ago.. are you all good?"

"Yes I'm fine, are you on your way?"

"I'm at the gym right next to your moms studio with a friend.. we should be out in like twenty minutes, is that okay? I'll turn on the car so you can chill there."

"Yes, I'll be waiting in your car, thank you." She says before hanging up the call and grabbing her purse. She went down the long hallway filled with awards and ribbons, cases of trophies, crowns and medals of contemporary and past dance legends. She blinks away her tears while going down the elevator, holding onto her ankles as if that would do anything.

After spotting her brother's car, she locks the door of her mother's dance studio and walks over to the car. She shivers and turns on the heat before lying down in the backseat, staring up at the sunroof of Harry's car.

She sprawled her body slowly, careful not to make sudden movements that would hurt. Her mind drifts into a half sleep, half daydreaming stare as she waits in the car.

After smoking his way into bliss, Harry skips to the passenger seat of the car. Not caring about the rain, he wraps tattooed arms around the girl's waist and spins her around slowly. Her laughs could be heard down the narrow streets before he pauses them with a faint kiss. Gently, Harry puts the girl down before opening the car door and gesturing for his pink haired friend to sit. "Milady, after you." He grins wildly, green eyes twinkling under the moonlight.

"Why thank you good sir," She giggles, grabbing the sides of her flowing, white dress to curtsy before entering the car. He laughs, leaning down to peck her lips before slamming the door shut and gallivanting to the drivers seat. They sat there for several minutes with their seats pushed back the farthest possible, just staring out the sunroof at the stars. 

"She doesn't look like you at all." An unfamiliar voice says, snapping Ambrosia out of her slumber. She sits up, and hits her head against the back of Harry's seat. Her brother and his friend apologize, fixing the seat so that Ambrosia has space to sit up right. Pulling her leotard up to cover her breasts and shorts down because they hiked up in her sleep, she falls back to a brief sleep.

"I've known you since high school and I could've sworn you had just one sister." Harry's friend, a pink haired girl, stated as they turned away from the plaza and towards Ambrosia's house.

"No, it's complicated but she's my sister... She just moved back with her mom from South Carolina a few weeks ago." He whispers, careful not to wake up his little sister. His efforts did not work as she sat up.

"From Greenville. I'm Ambrosia, it's nice to meet you." She speaks up, waving at Harry's friend with a small smile.

"Hey I'm Lily, sorry if we woke you up."

"It's all good, we're almost home so I would've had to wake up anyways." Ambrosia says, looking out of the window to avoid eye contact.

"Okay, I lied. You guys do look alike, you have the same green eyes and rosy cheeks. You're just blonde, and a bit more pale with freckles." Lily admits.

Ambrosia nods and smiles, "everyone says that."

"So do you like Australia so far?" She turns around, bright brown eyes peering at Ambrosia.

"I'm a little home sick but happy to be around my siblings and dad."

"And we're all happy you came back too." Harry says, pulling into the driveway of Ambrosia's house. "Lily will take your bag and I'll carry you up the stairs, your mom told me you're still limping."

"You guys don't have to, it's raining and you'll be soaked. I'll just walk."

"No it's okay, we'll help." Lily affirms, getting out of the car and opening the door to the backseat. She takes Ambrosia's zipped gym bag before running up the stairs and ringing the doorbell while Harry held his sister, covering her face with his jacket.

A tired Miriam opens the door, delighted to see Harry and her daughter. "Thank you so much for bringing her home safe, Harry. Oh, and who might this be?"

"Hi. I'm Lily, Harry's friend."

"So nice to meet you, I'm Miriam." She smiles, taking the crutches and bag, "thank you for helping Ambrosia. I would invite you guys in, but it's awfully late and I'm sure your parents want you home."

"You're right, I'll see you both Sunday for brunch. Goodnight." Harry hugs his sister and waves at Miriam before walking towards his car.

"It was nice to meet you guys!" Lily waves from the passenger seat, buckling up her seatbelt and zooming away into the rainy night with Harry. Both Belmont girls went up stairs, one into her bedroom and the other into the bathroom.

Ambrosia sank into her bathtub, letting hot water relax her tense muscles while looking through her gym bag for a vanilla bath bomb. Instead, when she opened it she found a small, heart shaped yellow note in scribbled, half cursive handwriting saying:

Absolutely breathtaking, and I'm not just talking about your dancing. Even asleep, you look and feel like an angel.