Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 79

Ahh! Another chapter, at last! I hope everybody's doing well--always feel free to reach out if you want to join the Discord or just have writing/life-related questions. As always, leave some stars and lots of comments! :)

Don't forget to leave your predictions on who will win the race!

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On Forty-Second Street's sidewalk and in a staring match, I roll my eyes at Cal.

"Wow. I thought you were going to roll your eyes at me the second you opened your door. Or in the elevator." Cal smiles his glimmering teeth at me. "We made it all the way outside."

Crossing my arms, I angle my body away from Cal. It's only a matter of seconds before he circles around and faces me again.

I duck my head, letting my Mets cap shield my eyes from Cal. Cloaked in a pair of running pants and a Manhattan Dance Academy sweatshirt, my skin fights to stave off the chills of a too-early morning. I try not to shift on my feet, clad in my cute purple running shoes, and I focus my attention on the coffee cup that I hold.

"Do you like the coffee?" Cal asks. "I got it the way I heard you like it. Dark like your soul."

Begrudgingly, I tilt my head up to take a sip from the lidded cup. I should've rolled my eyes when Cal showed up outside of my door with a smirk and a cup of black coffee. As if I didn't make my own. The extra cup is chasing away my jitters, though, and I couldn't exactly complain when Cal handed it to me.

"It's fine," I return, shifting my body away from Cal again. How great could the coffee be? It's plain, dark-roasted coffee. The only thing great about it is that Cal brought it to me.

He's on the offensive this morning. Every time I look at Cal, he's smirking, looking at me like he's about to kick my ass. It's too early in the morning to wage psychological warfare on Cal.

I could always slap him.

"So, like a ten out of ten?" Cal asks.

"If you think it's so great," I drawl, "Maybe you'd like me to pour it on you."

Maybe if I aim my cup right, I can give Cal second-degree burns.

Chuckling, Cal tries to circle around me again, but I turn around myself so that I'm faced with the illuminated intersection of our street and Broadway. Maybe it's the caffeine, but the lights seem to pulse against the backdrop of early, early morning in New York City.

"The coffee's really getting you riled up, Mare. Maybe you should—"

Without ceremony, I wind up my arm and chuck the coffee cup across Forty-Second Street. I watch as the lid falls off mid-air, landing in the street. I'm not one for littering, but Cal has it coming.

"I get it, Cal. I humiliated you in front of the entire ballet Company, belittled your disgustingly big ego when we played Monopoly. I cut up your robe," I say, taunting him as if he hasn't heard it before. "And you can't stand losing, can you? Is this how badly you need redemption?"

"For the record, you won under false pretenses," Cal argues like I haven't heard it before. "As I've already told you, you would never win against me again. But you're too afraid to play me again, aren't you?" Amused, Cal laughs again. "But I thought we were just talking about coffee, Mare."

The low-pitched laugh provokes me.

I hate how I love that he always knows just what to say to piss me off.

I hate how he's let us fall back into our normal routine of banter, knowing that I don't want him to treat me differently because of what happened on Thursday night in the stairwell.