D-D-Double upload✨
"I don't understand." I replied simply, slurping on the milkshake as Christian and I sat outside of Milk Jamèrie.
Today was such a perfect day with blue skies and sunshine. I had decided to wear a very flattering romper with a loose kimono, but that was nothing compared to Christian's attire. For the first time in the few weeks I'd known him for, he was wearing jeans with a loose fitted faded top. It was this light faded redish pink color that looked absolutely amazing with his vibrant eyes and light hair.
"Well it's a dance competition held by the ballet academy, but it's open to the public." Christian explained. "The only restriction to the contest is that you must enter with a partner."
My hands gripped the milkshake glass a little tighter. I didn't like the direction this conversation was going in. "I enjoy dancing, don't get me wrong, but I'm just not cut out for that sort of thing." I replied.
"Nonsense, Alex. You're really good. Like really fucking good." Christian insisted. "Plus, The cash prize is a couple grand. I have to participate in it anyways, so I was hoping you'd dance with me."
I sighed again to myself. It wasn't that I didn't want to dance with him, but rather, I didn't belong to this crowd. I didn't belong to this lifestyle. I put a biker helmet on, not ballet shoes. Cat fights for me weren't hair pulling and scratching, they were an uppercut to your chin and a right hook to the jawline. I wasn't a fragile or gentle person, I was whatever this crazy life had made me.
"I just don't think it's a good idea. Why don't you get someone from the ballet academy to dance with you?' I asked.
"Because they aren't you." He replied. I glanced away as my cheeks started to heat up again. He was just so direct all the time. My fragile heart couldn't take much more.
"But how would we practice? I'm putting in hours at my uncles shoppe, and I have community service at the ballet academy. Plus, I don't attend the academy and the studios aren't open to the public." I explained.
"We can practice at night, after you finish your hours of community service." He replied. I took another long slurp of my milkshake to buy me some time to think about all this. I mean, what was my excuse for not dancing? What exactly could I tell him that would actually be valid?
"I don't know ballet." I blurted. He chuckled.
"That's totally bullshit. I've danced with you, Alex. It's pretty clear that you've got at least some ballet lessons under your belt, and I could easily teach you the rest." Christian replied. His eyes bore into mine. I silently groaned again. Fuck, this guy was persistent as hell.
"Alright." I spoke finally. Screw his pretty eyes.
A large smile spread across his face. My eyes shifted down to my almost gone milkshake to avoid his gaze. He moved to say something else, but was cut short by his phone going off. "Hello?" He answered. there was another pause before he spoke again. "Calm down Payton. I already told you all I was doing was helping you with a few dance moves. That's it. You need to learn the dance with your actual partner." Christian spoke.
Now who the hell was Payton? I know I know, not my place... but still...
"I'm busy right now Payton- No, we cannot meet up, I'm with someone.... No, I'm not doing that..."
That's right. He was busy. Busy having milkshakes with me.
"I'll see you at the studio in about an hour." Christian replied, before hanging up the phone.
I glanced up from my milkshake. "Soooo... Payyyyton..."
He released a low chuckle. "Just a friend." He clarified. "She asked for my help with a routine for the dance, but I keep telling her she needs to work it out with her partner. I shouldn't be involved with that when I'm also competing in the same competition." Christian explained.
"Oh I see. She attends the academy with you, I'm guessing?"
"Yeah, She's in one of my classes."
"You teach classes?" I asked. This was news to me.
"Yeah my father made me head of the Contemporary Department." He replied. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Your father?" I asked. His eyes grew wide.
"He uh, wanted me to take the position that had opened up." Christian replied. I arched an eyebrow up, showing my skepticism. He just offered me a nervous smile. If he ran the Contemporary Department, and his father was able to get him this job, clearly his ties to this academy were far stronger than just having a sibling that went here. I had to admit, I was now intrigued. I wanted to know exactly who Christian Taylor was... And who his family was, without prying and being invasive of course.
"How's teaching been going?" I asked.
"Well I'm still trying to get a grip on my actual studies, so balancing both teaching and classes when the school year rolls around, will be complicated to say the least."
"What do your parents do?" I asked, changing the subject and trying to redirect the conversqation to more personal questions. A smirk played at his lips.
"They are both in business. My mother owns a few ballet stores, mostly catered to custom pointe and tap shoes, along with foot wraps, leotards, and any other item a ballet dancer might need. My father also owns a few small businesses here and there. They were both involved in the art of dance from a young age, and it carried on with them through business school and when they decided to implement these start ups." Christian spoke.
I rested my elbows up against the outdoor table as I listened to him speak. When he spoke about his parents, he spoke with admiration for all they had managed to succeed in. Though I wasn't much closer to understanding who Christian's father was in particular, I was learning more about Christian, and I couldn't be happier. "How about your parents?" He asked finally. I hesitated before replying.
"My father was a mechanic, much like my uncle." I began. "When I was younger, He used to take me into shoppe with him during the mornings, before my afternoon classes. He had even ordered me this small work jumper to wear when we went under the car, or under the hood. Cars were- is... a family business. His brother, my uncle, worked the business portion of the company, But my dad was always hands on. He enjoyed the mechanics of a car... How they operated. When he first met my mother, he purposefully backed up into her car at a grocery store, so that he could offer to fix it and hopefully see her again. She used to tell me how obsessed he'd been with cars, but when they were married, He became just a little more obsessed with her. They married back in 89'." I spoke, smiling slightly at the fond memory of the two.
It had been some time since I had allowed myself to think about my parents. It had been even longer since I had allowed myself to speak about them.
"What about your mother?" Christian spoke. His voice had grown softer. It was... calming. "What did she do?"
"My mother taught ballet." I replied. His eyebrows raised, surprised. "She herself, danced for many years... but back then, it was different. A black ballerina wasn't something that existed in society. All she ever heard was that her naturally muscular body and wider hips weren't fit for ballet. She struggled to get ahead in the industry, and soon resorted to teaching. She had me in ballet shoes when I was old enough to walk." I laughed, remembering the photo that was taken when I first learnt how to walk.
My dad insisted I get a bad ass pair of boots and a biker outfit, but my mother wasn't having it. She put me in the cutest ballerina outfit with the money she had saved up though extra gigs. She had also purchased my first set of ballet shoes that I would wear when I grew into them. All these things were still boxed up in the attic at Tino's. After the accident, it was the only alternative to burning everything.
Christian's hand reached out and rested itself gently against mine.
"My uncle and father founded the business. Their father had left a large amount of money to both his kids when he passed. They put everything into car sales and repairs, and though it took a while, the business took off.
My uncle went back to college after previously dropping out and majored in business. He was able to double the profit they were making in months with his newfound education, but my father stuck to the one thing he knew best... cars." Christian leaned forward as he continued to listen intently. I knew I was speaking of my parents as if they were gone... and well, they were gone... but I just didn't have the energy to hide that from Christian any longer.
He never tried to pry about my parents during the span of our conversation that afternoon. He just sat there and listened, as I spoke to him about the two people that single handily changed my life.
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