Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 74

At last, here's a chapter! Hope y'all are doing great--Nat's drowning in college apps. Expect a more consistent writing schedule beginning in January, but for now, I'll do my best to get out a chapter every so often. 

As always, star and leave comments! If you'd like to join the CDA Discord server, DM me!

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I down the last swallow of whole fat chocolate milk.

"You should sit down."

I lick the chocolate flavor off my teeth. "I'm fine."

Back upstairs, Cal more or less pushed me onto the couch before he went to the kitchen to get me chocolate milk and make a call to the kitchen staff. Then he kept his hand on the small of my back while we walked down the glass stairs, passing Maven's room in silence. Cal closed the door to his bedroom behind us.

From the depths of his closet, Cal glares at me. He's in sweatpants now. From the threshold of the closet door, I just cross one leg over the other. I've discarded the Mets blanket on his bed.

I shift my head away. Cal's room is as chaotic as it was last time I saw it. That ridiculous poster of the woman in a black bikini top and Daisy Dukes glares back at me. Cal's bed is unmade, though I suspect he attempted sleeping in it at some point. An Air Supply vinyl sits in the record player. Heaping black drapes shut out the city lights, taking up an entire wall. It seems silly to need curtains to cover an entire wall.

For a moment, I feel a pair of eyes on my body.

But when I shift my head back towards Cal, he has his back to me. He shuffles through a massive collection of sweatshirts, looking for the smallest one.

Cal's heaping closet is like the rest of his room. The brown veneer is classy and elegant with its golden handles and glass panels. Cal's aesthetic clashes with the closet. The shelving is cluttered with sweatshirts and t-shirts and workout shorts and more workout pants. One section of glossy wooden drawers holds his ballet things, and another section of hangers bears some sweaters. He actually has a grand total of three, not one, pairs of jeans. His small collection of tuxedos and suits is housed behind a panel of glass. Dress shoes, riding boots for his motorcycle, running shoes, workout shoes, and a pair of Birkenstocks all find places on the floor at the closet's margins.

A beautiful scarlet rug matches my lingerie. I could lie down and blend in like a chameleon.

My eyes flit past a familiar black hoodie. It hangs from a golden hook among flannel and a couple more sweatshirts.

My lips twist into a smile at the memory.

"Perfect."

I venture further into the closet. "Did you find my pants?"

I can deal with a sweatshirt that goes halfway down my thighs. The pants are the hard part.

"Yeah. I think I did."

Cal sounds too proud of himself as he turns around, brandishing the pants.

I have to put a hand over my mouth as I almost fall to the floor in laughter. The simple grey sweatpants look tiny in front of him.

"Somebody messed up my order a few months ago. Now I'm glad I was too lazy to return these." Cal glances at the waistband tag. "Do you think that you're a medium boy?"

I keep my hand on my mouth as I cross the rest of the space between us. This time it's to cover a smile. Cal hands over the pants along with a henley and plain black sweatshirt. He even found some socks for me. I should hug the man.