Bad For You

four

I've been practicing my routine for an hour now. Coated in a light sheen of sweat, I walk over to my bag and grab my water bottle, taking a greedy swig. It's six in the morning. I let Hannah sleep in and since I didn't feel like waking up my mother and dealing with her so early, caught an Uber to school. It's time like these when I wish I lived on campus.

Among other reasons.

I'm probably the only teenager in the world who doesn't have a license. For some reason my mother was super against it. I once got the courage to ask her why, and she replied I wouldn't need a license when I was living in New York anyway. In the meantime she, Hannah, Uber, or Lyft could take me anywhere I needed to go. Not that I went to a lot of places. If I wasn't at school, the studio, the antique shop, or home, it was safe to assume I'd been abducted.

My life was as boring as they come. Sneaking out to go to Lauryn Hills party was probably the most exciting thing I'd done in years. Speaking of her party...

As I resume practice, performing a series of adagio exercises at barre, my mind can't help but wander to a beautiful dark hair, green eyed boy. Last night I stayed up way too late tossing and turning, unable to get Theo out of my head. He consumed my thoughts up until the moment my body was forced to shut down. Even in my dreams he was there.

"Damnit," I curse as I lose balance. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Theo was a distraction that I couldn't afford. A pretty distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.

It's embarrassing to admit, but I have zero experience with the male gender. I've gone as far as a few chaste and uncomfortable kisses with boys I didn't even really like. But an actual boyfriend? Nope. Out of the question. Because boyfriends led to sex, and sex led to pregnancies, and a pregnancy meant my career would be over before it even began.

So I never told my mother when I had crushes. We never gossiped about cute boys or first kisses. And eventually my crushes faded away when my interest in them fizzled out. I've never had strong enough feelings for someone to want to pursue anything further than staring at them and making up cute scenarios in my head while fantasizing about falling in love.

That's why Theo confuses me. I don't know him—not really—yet it feels like I could want more. How is that even possible? Feelings like that don't just happen that fast. That's what the logical part of my brain tells me. But the emotional part is a different story. None of my crushes before had ever given me butterflies or made my heart skip a beat, which was a thing I previously thought only happened in movies and books.

They'll go away, I try and remind myself. The feelings always do.

I walk over to my phone and select a new song to play. The familiar instrumental of Gangsta by Kehlani-the version from Harley Quinn and the Jokers flashback-croons over the speakers. Then I stand in the center of the room.

Développe. Attitude devant. Attitude derrière. Promenade. Arabesque. Smooth and fluid. Graceful but controlled.

I glance in the mirror while going though each adage step, and it's then I notice a dark shadow in the doorway. At first my heart stutters to a stop, then resumes its normal rhythm. Taking a deep breath I re-focus on what I'm doing, ignoring the unwelcome presence.

I need a gangsta...to love me better...than all the others do...

I transition into a series of fouettées, gaining speed as the beat picks up. Closing my eyes I let the music wash over me, propelling my body forward.

You got me hooked up on the feeling...I leap into a grand jeté. You got me hanging from the ceiling...tour jeté. So don't let me, don't let me, don't let me, don't let me down...I shift into a demi plié before pirouetting.