Dance Until It Hurts [L.S]

E I G H T

This turns are called 'rond de jambe fouetté'
It's going to be useful for this chapter and the next ones.

Mag 🦋

E I G H T

Saturday morning I woke up with a terrible hangover. Everything seemed to be spinning.
I had a few flashes to the night before and let me say, they weren't good.

Last thing I remember is someone putting me down to bed. Wait. Was it Zayn?

Oh no.

Oh Jesus Christ.

Please tell me I didn't.
I fucking didn't. I couldn't. Could I?

My head was hurting like hell and all I could keep repeating was kissing Zayn?

Did that really happen?

Fuck.
Why Louis? Why?
Why do you have to be so stupid?

I opened my recent chats and there it was. A voice note sent to Emily at five am. Drunk Louis wasn't a really reliable person.

We all hate drunk Louis.

'Zayn is here Emmmmsssssss, we just kissed, you have soft lips Zaynie kiss me again.'

Great. This couldn't be better.
Except for Emily's reply.

'Louis, you're an idiot.'

~~~

I spent the whole weekend locked in my room, too ashamed to come out.

Emily returned on Sunday night to our room, she laughed at me. Really hard.
Well I deserved it.
I even had to ignore Caleb. He kept texting me all Friday night, Saturday and Sunday.
I didn't owe him an explanation though, it's not like he was my boyfriend or something. But I kinda left him hanging.

And then monday came.
And I had to see Zayn in ballet class.
Yey.

I want to bury myself under three meters of mud.
I took a deep breath before entering Harry's clases, before seeing Zayn.

"Good morning everyone, let's start the class, shall we?" - Harry said.

I took my position in the barre and Harry started to say the steps we should copy.

I was trying to ignore Zayn's gaze as long as I could
Zayn didn't take his eyes off me during the entire barre exercises though.

I screwed it big time.

Maybe he was now thinking that we were something, that we had a chance.
And hell no, that is not going to happen.

I tried to ignore his gaze and focus on Harry's indications until he came towards me.
He got to where I was to 'help' me with my rond de jambe en l'air.

Right now I was thinking it was just an excuse to touch my leg.
He grabbed my leg from my inner thigh, and my side hip, 'accommodating' my position. Right. Smooth.

"Relax." - He whispered.

Fuck.

"Tendú, piqué, dégage, fondue..." - Harry said.

I tried, I swear I tried to listen and memorize what he was saying, but Zayn.

Zayn was staring at me, and touching my lifted leg.
God he was making me uncomfortable.
He couldn't keep his hands to himself.