"Are you sure you're okay?" My dad asked me for the second time that day as we pulled up at the ballet studio.
The entire journey had been filled with an awkward silence. Well, it would've felt like one to anyone but me as my mind was preoccupied with seeing Phil during ballet and hoping that my face wasn't still red and blotchy from my breakdown. I had so many random thoughts during the journey but some were hard to keep a hold on and dissolved into the next thought. I felt the thoughts all fall to the pit of my stomach when the engine stopped, they began to weigh me down and make my guts twist painfully. I hadn't been this overwhelmed and worried about going to dance in such a long time.
"I'm fine," I said half-heartedly and grabbed the handle.
I jumped out of the car without a second word and my dad didn't stop me. Or, if he did, I was out too quick to notice.
I had spoken to Phil since I told him about the scholarship so I didn't know why I was so nervous to see him again. Probably because the last time we saw each other the conversation had never once landed on dance. I can't actually remember what we talked about - probably the maths homework or something that was similarly unimportant. Now we were in the heart of my problem; the topic of dance is unavoidable in dance class.
Phil wasn't there when I arrived so I quickly got changed and waited for him in the changing rooms until my phone buzzed. He was running late. I sighed and went into the studio where Miss. Chic was standing. She was looking at everyone as they walked in and when her eyes landed on me I saw the slightest hint of a smile. It was a little unnerving to get anything other than a scowl from her and I wasn't sure I liked whatever it was she was thinking. Maybe she was just happy I could be getting a scholarship... or maybe her lips had just twitched and I was reading too much into them.
"I hope you're ready for the next two weeks," Miss Chic said as she walked over to me. Her voice was softer than usual and got lost in the sea of voices echoing around the studio.
"I think so," I said but she must've seen me looking worried and took it as nervousness.
"Look, if the pas de deux falls through you always have the solo," she told me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Regardless of what you think, I know you'll be getting a place one way or another."
She thought I was worried about Phil failing and me not getting into the summer programme. The pas de deux was the least of my worries. If anything I was worried about winning the scholarship for the solo and going there full time. I had a feeling that neither Miss Chic nor my mum would drop this if I didn't take the opportunity laid out in front of me.
Miss Chic wandered off as Phil entered the room. He was barely late but late enough for Miss Chic to give him a hard glare. He gulped and walked next to me as we made our way to the bars. We warmed up next to each other but neither of us spoke. He smiled at me and I managed to smile back but I was worried it seemed too false. Phil didn't seem to notice any difference. He really hasn't been observant of my feelings lately... maybe he's got something on his mind too.
"Would you like to come over mine after this?" Phil asked me as we got into position to practice the pas de deux. I suddenly became aware that, if I auditioned, I'd need a second routine for the talent people - as if I wasn't stressed enough without that added pressure.
"Sure," I replied.
It didn't seem like he was going to bring up the scholarship. I decided that at least going to Phil's house would be a good distraction from home and dance life. Maybe he'd finally tell me what was distracting him so much. That was a big maybe, though.
Phil had been worse at the routine this week than the first time we'd done it. It was like he hadn't practised at all and I couldn't really get into the dance either. We decided to call it a day before the session even ended and spent the rest of it just stretching and talking (unless Miss Chic was close by and watching us). Again we didn't talk about anything important and usually, I liked just talking to Phil but, with everything happening, there was real stuff to talk about. I felt like he was avoiding the topics but I wasn't bringing them up either so I wasn't any better.
We had to walk to Phil's house because his mum still hadn't gotten a car.
"I'm sorry about this," Phil kept saying but he needn't have because I was used to walking to my own house afterwards which was actually further away than Phil's from the studio.
"It's fine," I told him. "Besides I think we need the exercise after doing nothing all session." It was meant to be a joke but neither of us laughed.
"Yeah," Phil said instead and he looked a little guilty. "Sorry I didn't do well."
"I didn't either," I pointed out.
"You did better than me," he said. Which was true but only because he was still learning everything I've known since I was in primary school.
"I've been doing this for years, you've been doing it for weeks," I said. "Don't beat yourself up about it."
We walked the rest of the way in silence.
I'd forgotten how big Phil's house actually was. It wasn't quite as big as mine and the decorating made it look duller but I was pretty impressed with Phil's mum for being able to keep the house. She was a pretty remarkable women to have been divorced, left in debt, become a single parent, and still manage to hold down jobs and get money to provide for her home and family.
"What are you thinking about?" Phil asked me curiously and grabbed my hand. He rubbed circles into the back of it with his thumb and I felt my body drift closer to his.
"Your mum," I said truthfully but Phil laughed and tapped my arm.
"Shut up," he told me but he was smiling and it made me smile. I decided not to elaborate and left it as a joke, it was probably better that way.
Phil took my hand again and started walking.
"Where is your mum anyway?" I asked into the quiet house.
"At work," Phil told me with a shrug and climbed the stairs.
"Oh." I should've guessed that much.
Phil led me into his room and jumped onto the bed. I followed suit and felt my body nearing the edge of it as the mattress dipped under my weight.
"Come here you lump," Phil laughed as he caught hold of my shirt and pulled me onto the bed fully.
I fell on top of him but didn't move. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him. His face was lit by the small slither of light coming through the window and it made all his features glow.
"You're so beautiful," I told him softly as I pushed a piece of hair out of his eyes.
I could see his cheeks flushing red and I knew mine were the same. I leant down and kissed his nose, kissed his cheeks, kissed his lips. I wanted to kiss him all over. I kissed the edge of his lips but he moved his head so our mouths were connected, moving together and getting harder with each passing second. I forgot about everything. All I could think about was Phil. My boyfriend Phil who I needed more than anything. Sometimes it scared me how much I needed him but I wasn't scared now. He deepened the kiss and I gripped his shirt, feeling him beneath the fabric.
"Phil," I said between kisses. "I love you so much."
I didn't realise what I said until Phil stopped kissing me. My mind was whirling and buzzing. I moved up and waited for him to speak but he didn't. I got off him and sat next to him, facing his unmoving features.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Stop," Phil replied and he looked like he was about to cry or maybe puke (I couldn't tell which).
I started shaking as I looked at him. I wanted to look away, I felt so vulnerable now my feelings were on the line. I couldn't remember the last time I had told someone I loved them. When I was younger, I used to say it to my parents every night. Then I grew up and the word changed meaning. Love wasn't just a word you threw around every day just because. You only said it if you truly meant it. I love Phil but all too suddenly I wished I didn't.
"You don't have to say it back," I told him hastily so he didn't feel pressured to lie.
"I can't," he whispers.
"I know, I understand. It's too soon. Its-"
"-No," he cuts off my rambling. "I can't do this."
"Do what?"
"Us," he says so quietly I'm not sure I hear it.
The room felt heavy, it's so thick and suffocating that it's hard to breathe. I wonder when all this happened, how long Phils been feeling this way about me. Had I missed all the signs? Was him being quiet one? Telling me to take the scholarship even though it'd send me away? How he never let us go too far? I thought back to how he always stopped us even though he acted like he wanted me. I thought about how he would avoid touching anywhere but my arms and hair when we kissed. I thought maybe he stopped loving me for the same reason my mum did... and then everything made sense.
"It's because I'm trans, isn't it?"
I wanted him to reply and say I'm just being silly. I wanted to be acting stupid and hear him say that I was wrong. Phil didn't say anything, though. Which is worse because the silence says all the words I feared the most. I stand up roughly and the bed rocks Phil. His eyes blink and life comes back into them as they meet mine.
"I'll leave," I told him and bit my lip to stop myself from crying. "I've got a talent scout to impress after all."
I charge down the stairs and all the time hope that Phil calls for me. I get to the door and Phil still hadn't appeared. I waited for a moment, resting my head against the open front door, but it's hopeless. I realise he's not going to say anything more. He doesn't care.
That night, I put on my music loud and didn't care who could hear it. I pulled my ballet shoes on and I made my way to the middle of the room. My pyjama bottoms were baggier than my leggings but they were okay to dance in. I let the piano keys float into my ears and guide my feet across the carpeted floors. It felt like old times. I used to dance in my room a lot but today was different. I wasn't dancing to practice. I was dancing to get my feelings out. My whole body felt wired with emotion and I let it free into movements. I let my heartbreak show and the music was the ballad driving me forward. I danced until my feet began to blister and I could barely stand anymore. I danced until I couldn't feel the pain in my heart anymore and then kept dancing just to be sure.
AN:
I was half an hour late to college but I wrote this on the bus whilst stuck in traffic ~
I feel like I need to apologise for Phil in this, it wasn't going to be this bad but my finger slipped. More chapters soon!
- Rach x