Falling (BWWM Romance)

Chapter One

Ella Fields knew something was wrong as soon as she glanced at her Wednesday's class roster. As she studied the sheet, her graceful legs slipped easily into fifth position—feet turned out, ankles fully crossing and firmly touching. Her toned, lithe body testified to the years spent as both student and instructor at Let's Dance! Studio in Bent Creek, Virginia. She opened her mouth to speak, but as usual was cut off by the studio's recent hire.

"You've got a new student if that's what's puzzling you," Zoe McTavish, the studio's new secretary said, her eyes clamped to her phone.

Ella found the name on the roster. "Daniel Turner? Can't take him, my class is full."

Zoe shrugged. "It is what it is."

Ella's temper flared, remembering that her grandmother had raised her better; she controlled it. "How could you let this happen? We're already six weeks in—he'll disrupt class."

"Life is about disruptions—you need to loosen up." Zoe wiggled her shoulders to demonstrate, her eyes never leaving the book.

Great...philosophy lessons from a teenager.

Ella leaned on the counter. "Tell his parents that at this late date it's better he sign up for the spring session."

Zoe slowly folded down a corner of her book and laid it on the desk along with her bony elbows. Multiple black bracelets jangled down here arms. She spoke with the quiet patience reserved for senior citizens, children and the mentally disabled.

"He's only here until February."

"Until February? Then what's the point?" Anger surged inside her again. There was a solution to this problem; she just had to calm down. "Please understand that ballet isn't something you can pick up and drop like a college course. Now call the boy's parents and issue a refund."

Zoe smirked. "Too late. Besides, it'll look bad."

"Where's Steve?" Ella said, looking around. "I want to talk to him."

"He's not here." Zoe kept her eyes glued to her phone.

"Isn't he coming in today?"

"Nope."

Sighing, Ella came around the desk (really a wall counter surrounded by plexi-glass) and picked up the office phone with every intention of calling Steve, the studio's founder and director, and giving him a piece of her mind about the new secretary's incompetence.

"He and that itty-bitty wife of his are flying to Bermuda as we speak," Zoe said, scratching a black nail through a pierced brow. "We're not to call him under any circumstances. They'll be back next week. If you deem this situation an emergency, nine one one is on speed dial, by the way."

Ella bit back her anger and tapped the clipboard. This was highly inconvenient. The Wednesday evening class was her best performing class. They were serious and dedicated and incidentally happened to be all girls. Her other classes had a few boys in attendance and all but one was there on his own accord. This new comer—a boy, God, help me—could set the class back to day one. She'd seen it happen and it wasn't pretty. She sighed.

There was no time left to argue about it, parents and students filtered into the lobby. Distracted, Ella only nodded at them. "Did you tell them about the dress code?"

Zoe tugged a strand of lavender and purple hair, frowning. "We have one?"

Without commenting, Ella cradled the clipboard, stuck the pen behind her ear and escaped before she said something she might regret. Instead she forced herself to focus on the problem at hand. She'd give her new pupil a week before he became bored and ran off to do whatever most boys did like playing in the dirt and creating havoc. Comforted by the thought, she glided into the studio.