Chapter Nine
I did my stretches whilst waiting for Mr. Langley to turn up. He wasn't late, but I'd gotten here early like normal. I wanted to spend our time together actually dancing rather than warming up.
Today, I was going to convince him to give me a better part in the Gala. We'd received our parts two weeks ago and mine was embarrassing. It was the smallest part of anyone. It was so painfully small that it would be noticed by mine, and everyone else's parents. I'd done such a good job of convincing them that everything was great here they'd be shocked and saddened if they realised I was actually shit at ballet and that everyone looked down on me.
So, in the past two weeks, I'd done my best to perfect the standard role in his routine. It was only a short ballet, half an hourâso that the fundraising could take up most of the eveningâand the cast went in tiers. There were the named roles, obviously taken by the best people, there were the unnamed backing dancers, and there was me.
I was determined to be a backing dancer.
The Gala was in four days, which was enough time for Mr. Langley to incorporate me.
I'd stayed after my extra lessons with Mr. Langley and I'd practised it until my muscles ached and I could barely stand up. But, I'd done it. I knew the routine and I even danced it quite well.
Mr. Langley entered the room with his normal business face and nodded in appreciation to the fact I'd warmed up already. "Well, let's practise the routine for the Gala. It's coming up fast now."
I indulged him for ten minutes, wanting to know what his comments were on the very basic routine I was expected to perform. He only made a single remark about posture as those critical eyes observed me. "Good," he decided when I was finished. "We can do something more complicated for the rest of the lesson, then."
"I have an idea," I hoped my cheeky smile was endearing rather than irritating. "I want to show you what I've been practising."
Mr. Langley raised an eyebrow, but obliged me. "Okay. I guess that saves me having to come up with something."
"You choreographed the entire Gala, I don't think you'd have had much of a hard time doing it." I rolled my eyes, buying myself enough time to run through the routine once more in my head.
He had choreographed a very beautiful routine, too. It was a love story, between Amber and Leon, as the two lead dancers, set in the army. The costumes were all very gorgeous. I hadn't expected combat print to transfer well onto a leotard, but I'd been pleasantly surprised.
The backing dancers got to dance in partnership for the majority, so I had adapted the routine into a solo piece as much as possible. It was definitely still recognisable. I just lifted my hands as if they were holding someone for the majority and skipped the lifts.
Mr. Langley of course recognised it instantly.
Halfway through, he held up a hand and I was forced to stop. He hadn't offered any comment yet and I was beginning to worry.
When he took a step forward and slotted into the position of my dancing partner, my heart raced. He gave a single nod before we launched back into the routine from where I'd left off.
Dancing wasn't an intrinsically sexual thing, I'd discovered from my normal lessonsâeven if it looked like it sometimes. It was passionate, maybe even sensual, but not sexual. Most dancers weren't in relationships with their on-stage other half.
This, though, most definitely was. At least, as far as I was concerned.
Mr. Langley's hands weren't rough on my skin, but they burned it with pent up desire as he manipulated my body through the different positions. I tried to tell myself that I was only slightly out of breath because I'd been training so hard, rather than because this was the first time my hands had touched his toned body.
The finale was a lift. I hadn't been able to practise the lift and I wasn't even sure if I could do it, but when Mr. Langley began guiding me towards it, I went all out to do my best.
This was a romantic ballet. The entire point was the connection between the two main characters and so the backing dancers had to mirror that. It was intimate and I tried desperately not let myself get tricked into thinking it meant something.
The move itself was okay because I'd done it before with a previous partner who joined our club for a short period for a performance. Mr. Langley supported me with one arm, wrapping it around my waist possessively whilst my leg curled around his, our hands elegantly outstretched.
But it was our faces I cared about. Mere centimetres apart, and with mingling breaths, it was far more than a student and teacher should have ever been. Our noses practically touched and I thanked God I could blame my startlingly red cheeks on the physical exertion.
It took every ounce of willpower in me not to let my gaze flicker down to his lips.
We stayed in the hold just a fraction longer than was necessary, to the point where Mr. Langley's fingers digging into my waist became slightly painful. It was delicious, and as desperately as I tried, nothing was going to control my breathing.
I wanted him, so badly. My body ached for sexual contact and being this close to a gorgeous guy was killing me.
Trying to remind myself that he was a performer, and that any elements of romance or desire I saw in his face were an act, was the most difficult. Part of me wanted to be deluded into thinking that the twitch at the corner of his mouth was a sign he was holding back on kissing me; that his quickly rising chest pressing against mine was because the hunger was eating him up, too.
When he put me down, I took a few seconds to recover. Mr. Langley took a quick step backwards. "That was good," he praised. "Perhaps a bit too good. Where did you pick it up so quickly?" He ran a hand through his hair and I latched onto his second sentence as if it was a revelation he really had felt some kind of connection whilst we danced.
"I wouldn't say quickly," I denied. "You have no idea how many hours I've spent in this stupid studio learning it. I'm surprised my body hasn't just given out by now. I didn't know I could take nearly eight hours of ballet a day without dying."
There was real concern that flashed across his face. "You probably can't. Don't push yourself too hard."
"I need to, if I'm ever going to be as good as everyone else. I'm really trying to prove myself to you, you know?" For some reason I was far more emotional than was necessary. I wanted him to know just how much his opinion mattered to me.
"You have proven yourself to me," he replied instantly. "You did that on the first day when you argued back. I respect you, Carly, you don't have to doubt that or risk injuring yourself."
"That's not the point, anyway." It was one of the points, but I couldn't get into soppy territory here. I was allowing myself to care about his opinion more than I should have done. Just because he was one of the only guys I talked to here, didn't mean I needed to go falling head over heels for him. "Will you upgrade my part? I can handle the main dance. I know it all, not just that section. I can show you."
Mr. Langley's face fell slightly from the affectionate smile he had been directing my way. "I can't do that."
My face didn't just fall, it transformed into an all-out grimace. "Why?"
"It's four days before the performance. I'm not going to start shifting people around."
"You'd be shifting one person around."
"You don't have a partner."
"I know you've been teaching the people in the year below the choreography in their lessons, one of those can be my partner." It was perfect. That was all his arguments blown out of the water. I'd performed enough of the routine without criticism to let him know I was up to the task and now I was going to get the role.
"No, I'm sorry."
I blinked. "What?" Was he serious? What could he possibly have left to get back at me about? "If you've gone soft and aren't criticising me when I actually did a shit job at the routine then I'd rather you just told me."
"Language," he snapped with a disapproving frown. He was retreating back into business mode. "And no, I wouldn't ever do that. It would be irresponsible of me as your teacher. This isn't about that. This is about having to play with the hand you're dealt."
I gritted my teeth. "Are you serious? I'm here on a scholarship because my family is poor and I've been working against the fact nearly everybody here hates me. I worked hard so I know the routine. Now if it's really your goal to embarrass me in front of everyone by keeping me in this shi-" I took a deep breath and rained in my mouth. "Keeping me in this rubbish role, that's not fair. I worked my ass off to get better at this and you're making me think it's been for nothing."
"Look, I'm impressed with the routine. You did a good job and I appreciate that, but for now it's too late. When you leave school and you join a real ballet company, you're not going to be able to fight back against the choreographers. If you get a small part, you get a small part. That's the way this works. I'm sorry."
"What would you know about being in a real company?" I snapped, storming from the room with a face like thunder.
It was harsh and unreasonable, but I said it anyway because I was upset. It was better than crying in front of him. Or punching him.
I wasn't in a real company yet. This was school. This was a public Gala where everyone was going to know that I was the worst person in the entire year. I'd earned my place, I'd shown that I could do it, and he was punishing me unfairly for that.
Scrubbing at my stinging eyes, I wished there was something I could take my anger out. Part of me was tempted to go and find Callum to steal all his cigarettes.
I'd pinned all my hopes on getting to be a dancer and it wasn't going to happen. I'd put so much time in and received nothing.
I kicked the wall and stalked off on a random course with my hands balled into fists. The Gala was going to be completely unbearable.
[%4G
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Exciting news this chapter! My new novel has gone live on Amazon! It's a student/teacher, and $0.99 until the 16th March. I'll include the link to my book in the US story in the external link!
I hope this chapter was okay, some Ethan/Carly tension in there ;)