The Void Between Stars: Book 4 Of The Orion Series

Waltz Time

After doing some serious online research, I decide to contact the Broadway Dance Center. Not only does it have a phenomenal reputation, but New York, New York isn't that far away. Checking to make sure my geography wasn't off, I confirmed it was only about an hours flight away. I was more than willing to make that trek if it meant keeping me out of trouble.

When Ben finally got it out of me what I was doing with my nose buried in my laptop, he, of course, made fun of me. I became defensive; old me would have made a crack about his weight and how he should sign up with me. However, I didn't want to be an ass to someone who was there for me when I was trying so hard to put myself back together. Instead I told him the truth behind it all, and he, surprisingly, apologized for his initial teasing.

"Why do you look so shocked?" Ben asked me with a chuckle, looking a bit perplexed.

I want to say Because it's weird knowing how much you care about me. I want to tell him, Because I've grown accustomed to me doing the apologizing. But I know that would only lead to a spiral of negativity on my end. Instead I merely shrug and go back to staring at my screen, ending the conversation.

I'm a little dismayed when I see they don't offer straight up ballroom dancing on their website. I'm a little excited when I find a few of the instructors are trained in it, however. Then, in a flash or brilliance wherein I remember who the fuck I am, call them up. After chatting for a little while it's confirmed they don't teach ballroom. However, once I tell them who I am, and that money means literally nothing to me, I'm given the names of some dance instructors to get in contact with.

So I hop on their profiles online, trying to dissect everything in this world of dance I don't understand. Before I know it an hour has gone by, and I have at least ten million tabs open. Finally deciding on one, I pick up the phone, hoping I'm able to catch them. I'm thrilled when on the third ring, the line picks up.

"Hello, this is Christine?"

"Hi Christine, I hope I'm not bothering you?"

A hesitation, and then, "No. May I ask who's calling?"

I take a deep breath, switching into Professional Orion (as my friends have dubbed the serious side of me). "I'm Orion Bauwens. I was provided your contact information by Gwynne, at the Broadway Dance Center? I'm interested in taking up ballroom dancing. I understand the Center doesn't provide classes in that, but I was sort of hoping we might be able to work something out, either through the Center or privately?"

There's a pause, and I hear Christine take a deep breath.

"Mr. Bauwens," she replies. "Please don't take offense to this, but is there some way you can confirm who you say you are?"

"Sure," I reply with a chuckle. "I'll send you a selfie, a la Reddit way, with a hand written paper with the time and date. Does that work?"

"Sure," she replies, and then adds quickly, "I'm really sorry if I offended you--"

I laugh. "No offense taken. I'm going to hang up now and do that selfie, okay?"

"Alright."

"Yo, Ben!" I call as I'm hanging up. "I need paper and a marker!"

A few seconds later, my drummer comes into the kitchen. "Sure--what for?"

"Just get me the damn paper." I pause then and smile. "Please."

"Whatever, weirdo," he mumbles, and then leaves. After a minute he comes back with what I've requested. Scribbling down the date and time, I take a few selfies, with different expressions. I hadn't realized Ben was half-watching.