E
"You think you're ready to do this one with music?" I ask Bruno while I gather my hair up into a ponytail once more and pin back my flyaways. I wait a few moments but he doesn't answer. Instead he travels in a circle going over the moves I taught him weeks ago as though he didn't hear me at all. I start to ask again but I refrain from speaking and allow him to repeat the steps a few more times.
I take a seat in my desk chair and watch him. His feet move in concert with the counts he mouths under his breath. Moving quickly, they conduct his hips to move in a smooth motion that leads him through every step. His arms change positions great time and move with a certain definition and precision I've see in male dancers of my caliber in rehearsals. He stands with confidence almost, a strain of pride that I have seen on the pro competition stages. His chest is held out, shoulders spread head straight; perfect posture. He retraces his steps once more then opens his eyes.
"Let's do it."
I hit play and we assume the regular position: his right hand just beneath my left shoulder-blade, my left on his right shoulder and my right in his. The music starts and we fly into the steps, traveling across the floor in record time, light and graceful on our feet with energy driving us though each step. He leads me across the floor with near ease, re-introducing me to each step all over again from his point of view.
He leads me across the floor with quick steps; quick glances into each other's eyes at each pause and when we separate for our own moves I can feel his eyes on me awaiting the time for is to come back together.
We finish in silence, face to face and chest to chest. His left hand just below my shoulder blades and the other holding my hand. The vein on his neck pulsates and my heart pounds as the two of us breathe heavily on each other's faces. He doesn't move, nor does he let go and we remain together drenched in the silvery white moonlight that pours from the large window along the right wall. My stomach rises like the it would on a roller-coaster as my heart continues its rapid beating. I try catching my breath but it doesn't seam to want to return to my lungs. My body beings to feel heavy and my vision begins to go in and out of focus. I blink a few times in attempt to clear it but when I open my eyes again all the color has been drained from my vision that is now beginning to blur around the edges. I feel my knees buckle and my hand in his becomes limp and heavy. My weight suddenly drops. Bruno catches me. My eyes flutter and I catch a glimpse of his dark brown ones. They look worried and flustered but his face remains calm. I think I'm rubbing off on him.
"I got you."Everything around me fades from grey to black. When I open my eyes, I am sitting at my desk with some assistance from Bruno who stands beside me. He hands me a bottle of water and I slowly drink the entire bottle. He hands me another.
"How do you feel?" he asks leaning down to me, not too close but not too far away. I set the bottle down and put my hands in my lap; he puts one of his hands over mine and squeezes them lightly. My face starts to feel hot as do my hands.
"I'm alright," taking my hands from beneath his. He moves in close and puts the back of his hand to my forehead.
"I don't think you have a fever or anything, you we're probably just dehydrated." He leans away from me and hands me the bottle of water again. "I think we can cut the lesson short today. Keep drinking water." He sits down on the floor and has a drink of water.
"Thank you," I say. Soon I begin to nod off.In my mind's eyes I see my nine year-old self standing in the auditorium of my elementary school, Elaine Mayweather's Academy for Gifted Children. I stand among the other children wearing my standard ballet outfit; white ballet flats, pink tights, a black leotard and my hair is up in a perfect bun. Standing a few feet in front of me is a boy no older than ten. He wears a pair of black converse, jeans and a white tee shirt. His skin holds a tanned completion and his head is covered in a mass of curls, cut just short enough to stay tamed. A pair of drumsticks sit in his left back pocket.
"Listen up kids," Mr. Caster, the house master fourth grade announces. "Today is the day that you have been looking forward to since you were enrolled in this academy. Today you will choose your partner, your teammate for the remainder of your primary and the entirety of your secondary schooling. The person to choose will help you to grow, change and truly awaken your true talent. Choose wisely." Mr. Caster smiles and gestures with his hands for the children to mingle. He takes a seat in is chair on the stage and watches with the other house masters. Just as I remember.
The kids in the room quickly mesh and fall into conversation. Moments someone taps my shoulder. The boy who was standing in from of my moments ago now stands facing me. He has bright welcoming brown eyes and a smirk hiding along the dimples in his cheeks.
"You're Elinea right?"
I nod.
"I wanna be your partner."
"My partner? But aren't you a vocal and percussion major?"
"Yeah?"
"You know I'm a dance major right?"
"Uh huh."
"Wouldn't you rather partner up with someone else who's in vocals or plays an instrument?"
"Nah, I want to be your partner."
"O...ok."
"I'm Bruno, sorry for being so pushy." He runs his hand through his dark curly hair.
"Its ok," I answer back. I feel my brows come together. This can't be right. All of this happened with Stellan...
________
Instead of ballet and pointe practices with Stellan and homework with him after school, I see Bruno working on drum beats while I practice leaps and turns. He helps me to perfect my timing and I would help him sustain his harder drum beats by seeing how many turns I could do in several minutes. The warped memories fly past my minds eyes like a movie set to fast forward, sometimes moving so quickly I can barely follow them. Suddenly the recording slows to a stop and switches itself to play again.
I sit in the audience of my high school auditorium watching a performance on stage. With a closer look I recognize the person holding the lead guitar. The dark curls, tan skin and dimples are a dead give away, it couldn't be anyone other than Bruno; a slightly older but still young version of him.
"You we're great!" I exclaim jumping out of my chair. I run out of the auditorium and make my way back stage. Bruno comes walk's out from behind the curtains guitar in hand. He sets it down on one of the stands and the other guys set their instruments down and make their way out to the audience. Bruno walks up to me and guides a couple curly strands out of his lashes.
"Was I really?" He asks looking to to my eyes with his deep brown ones. He looks somewhat unsure of himself, smirks and then one of his deep dimples shows.
"You were! I could tell that you were nervous at first but once you got through the first verse you were fanta--" Suddenly his lips are on mine. The back of his right hand grazes my cheek. He moves away slowly.
"Thank you," he whisper to my lips.
Barely able to breathe, I manage to put some words together. "Why did y--"
He leans in gently grasps my cheek and I take hold of his leather jacket. He kisses me softly then firmly as he wraps his other arm around my waist. When he lets go I step backward and looks me in the eyes. "I like you."
__________
Suddenly my mind fast-forwards again through fabricated memory upon fabricated memory of concert after concert, practices, recitals, classes, parties and school events. False firsts, false events false choice up on choice, every event, all of them Not with Stellan but with Bruno. Then all at once everything slows to a halt and I am in the body of my sixteen or maybe seventeen-year-old self. Sitting in my usual practice room, room three hundred and ten.
I stand along the wall with my right foot up on the bar and I reach my hand up and pull on my toes. Fifteen minutes pass and I move on to my floor exercises. Suddenly the main door opens and I feel a smirk grace my lips.
"You're late," I say without looking up.
"How am I late if we don't have a session today?" Bruno replies setting his guitar down against the wall and his drumsticks on the stool. He wears a short sleeved dress shirt, jeans cuffed at the bottoms with matching socks showing and sneakers. He seems to have gotten a fresh haircut and he smells of clean laundry and another familiar scent I can't put my finger on.
I change positions and look at him sideways. "Of course we have a session today, it's a regular practice day. We have a supervised sessions as always."
"No we don't," he says in a teasing tone. He rifles though his backpack award pulls out two slips of paper with he tucks onto the back pocket of his jeans.
"Trems, is out today. It's a recital day for his daughters. You know how those go."
"You know we still have a session whether our supervisor is available or not right? They'll send a sub."
"No they won't. Trems said that he arranged for one by he couldn't find one for our time slot. He said to have the practice, write up a sheet, leave it in his mailbox and we should be good to go."
"Mr. Tremaine trusts you with that? Are you sure we're talking about the same Mr. Tremaine?"
"You don't believe me? That hurts El, that really hurts." He makes a faux pained face and then smirks. "I promise you that's what he said."
"Alright let's get this practice started." I stand and sweep a strand of my hair back up in to my bun.
"Nah go change, were going out. Unless you want to going like that." He leans up against one of the large window sills and puts his hands in his front pockets.
"We have a practice," I repeat once more.
"Today we're playing hookie."
"Where playing what? No were not," I say standing in front of him with my hands on my hips.
He walks up to me and slips his hands beneath mine. My arms fall to my sides and he draws me in. I look away trying not to pay him no attention while trying to keep the heat in my cheeks from showing as he stares at me attempting to draw my eyes to him.
"I got us concert tickets." He rest his forehead on mine and drops his voice just above a whisper. "We can go get a bite to eat, or maybe just a snack first and head over. It's not far from here."
"Hm," I say without parting my lips.
His lips part and he sighs; a smirk follows. "I have my truck. How's that sound?"
I nod.
"Good." He presses his lips to mine once but as he steps away from me I put one hand on his chest and the other on his cheek and kiss him back. He grins and his big brown eyes sparkle.
I notice my heart beating so quickly, it seems to vibrates in my chest and the scene freezes for a moment in my mind, perfectly preserved as though it is real. Is this what would have happened if I met him earlier in life? But it could't be. We grew up in completely different settings, with completely different backgrounds.This makes no sense. We're basically from different worlds; why would he be interested in me? Where is all of this coming from? Is there something wrong with me?