The Pointe of Love || Elriel & Nessian

Chapter 10 - The Juliet to My Romeo

Nesta powered up the stairs of the ballet company building, pushing through the brass doors and striding down the hall in a sprint, her long legs practically leaping as she traveled across the marble floors.

She should be tired.

Exhausted even.

She'd danced all day with Eris, joined the hip hop class with Gwyn, and honestly should be collapsing in her riverside apartment right about now.

But she wasn't tired, not in the slightest.

She felt nauseous. And wired.

Like her body was separate from her soul, the day swirling and circling in her mind and gut– the memory of Cassian's crushed face falling before he turned, leaving her on the sidewalk to make her way home by herself. Her gut clenched in on itself as she watched him walk away, his slumped shoulders stabbing her lungs as she felt the ground wobble beneath her lithe feet, his departure leaving her alone on the street.

Alone.

Like she should be.

Because it just didn't make sense– hooking up with her choreographer? And just an oaf of a man at that. Cassian might be an accomplished danseur and choreographer in his own right, but he was still just some dude on a motorcycle.

He didn't fit the plan.

It was her logic pushing him away. No, it was her self-preservation.

She threw her tote into the corner of the studio as she pushed through the studio doors and sauntered over to the floor lamp sitting by the grand piano. No need for harsh overhead lighting for this solo practice. She just needed to be alone with her thoughts.

And her feelings.

She felt a shudder ripple up her spine.

Feelings.

Ugh.

Tugging off her sweat pants and tying up her pointe shoes in a flourish, she pulled her arms above her head, stretching and tugging her shoulder blades and muscles until she felt released and warm, her eyes closing in an instant as she stepped toward the center of the shiny studio floors, the dance coming quickly, pulling and centering her thoughts as the choreography began working its way through her limbs.

Feelings should not come into the equation when involving an oaf like Cassian.

It was ridiculous! She was being ridiculous. Feelings? For Cassian? Get a grip Nes. What had happened at Rita's was unacceptable... throwing herself at him like that... or maybe letting him throw himself at her? She wasn't sure anymore what had actually happened. All she knew is that one minute they were arguing, and the next moment, they were making out against that damn wall.

And now he was looking at her like a kicked puppy on the godsforsaken streets of Velaris.

Pushing up into a releve, Nesta arched her back, holding her arms in second position, her fois de bras extended as she pointed her feet, beginning the first overture of the white swan, the moves coming rapid and automatic as she freed herself into the movement and choreography.

It was simple, she thought to herself, her eyes drilling into her own reflection as she lifted and extended, pushing her muscles to the brink, almost as if they were completely unaware of the fact that she had already danced for over six hours today.

Feelings and dance do not go together.

They were a distraction.

How had she let her guard down around him? Why did she feel drawn to him? Why did she even feel attracted to someone like him? He was all wrong. He wasn't controlled or polished... he was big and clunky and muscley and... fratty. Cassian probably laughed at fart jokes and had a drinking problem in college.