Prima Ballerina *Jelena Ballerina Series* (Part 1)

Chapter 14: Monday Blues

Selena's P.O.V.

My eyes flutter open to see the white ceiling. There is no aroma of a fresh breakfast. turn onto my side and look over at Taylor's bed. A shadow sits on the neatly made bed. The pillows are properly placed. There isn't a sign of Taylor.

I sit up and look towards the bathroom. Without a light in, the door is open. "Taylor?" I call. No response. Throwing the cover off of myself, I get up out of my bed. After I put on my purple fluffy robe, I begin to walk through the apartment.

Everything is in it's proper place. That is until I notice a note on the island in the kitchen. Quickly, I walk over and open the note.

Sel,

I went to school early to work on a project with someone. I'll meet-up with you for lunch, then we can head to the diner together.

Love, Tay

Setting the note down, I turn around to begin preparing a small breakfast. However, I have a rude awakening when I come face-to-face with the microwave. The time reads 7:30. I become wide-eyed while running back to my room. In the process, I begin to peel my robe off myself like a banana peeling.

Once in mine and Taylor's room, I grab the first outfit I can find and change into it. 'How had I overslept? Why didn't my alarm go off? Why didn't Taylor wake me?' I question while readjusting my low cut tank top. Slipping into a pair of high-waisted jeans, I then rush over to my dresser and grab a pair of hoops that are conveniently laying on top.

After I put my earrings on, I begin to head out of the bathroom. But before I leave, I take one last look in the mirror and fix my hair. With a quick finger-comb, I then dash out of the bathroom. My hair is still loosely curled after last night and my makeup is hardly smudged.

Forrest and I stayed out later than I expected last night. Originally, he was supposed to make me home, but something caught both of our attention. A nearby restaurant had karaoke. Forrest and I couldn't resist, so we ended up staying out past 1 a.m. He refused to stay out past 2 a.m. because of the rule from How I Met Your Mother.

Next to my bed, lies my dance bag. I begin to prepare it for the day. Already, I am regretting staying out late. Ballet shoes, bobby pins, hair ties, and a pair of tights are the contents I throw into my dance bag. It goes over my shoulder and I scramble to get my key out to lock the door behind myself.

Out of my apartment, I go flying down the stairs. Fresh wax is the aroma filling my nose. They may have a fresh coat of wax, but this stairwell is still filthy. It surprises me that they even bother to wax them. Finally, I reach the last flight and run through the lobby.

My stomach is grumbling as I walk through the busy New York street that has scents upon scents. Bagels, muffins, and donuts cause my stomach to sound like thunder. To the best of my ability, I ignore my stomach and head to the subway. 'Hopefully, I make it in time,' I think with my subway card already in hand.

* * *

Into the classroom, I rush with my crossbody falling from my shoulder and my dance bag nearly falling out of my hand. This is the latest I have ever been to this class. Over twenty minutes! Usually, I come in ten minutes late. My professor is lost in the passionate lecture he is delivering. He entirely ignores my presence. (It's not like this is abnormal; he believes that my tardiness is impolite. One time he had mocked me in front of the entire class.)

The rest of the class has their eyes glued in their notebooks. Their hands are jotting down notes as fast as possible, almost as if they are in a race. Our professor has a mouth that refuses to stop running. It's a wonder how his throat never goes dry. Only one student happens to glance my way; the one who reserved a seat for me, Clay Grant.