A Forbidden Finale (Student/Teacher Romance)

Chapter One

Chapter One

There was nothing extraordinary about the lesson. The moves were relatively simple, even if our instructor insisted on using the French terms my previous teacher never had. The room was a standard studio, lined with mirrors, the barre extending around the outside. Filled with students, following their instructor's commands intently.

And yet, I was failing miserably.

My posture couldn't compare. My arms weren't quite as graceful as everyone else's. I felt the same as normal, they were moves I'd spent ten years learning, but everyone else did them a thousand times better.

I'd been sceptical. It might be a boarding school dedicated to ballet, but how much could they really know that was different from good old Maggie? Even if Maggie had been a little bit plump and thought that it was called a squat rather than a plié, she was still a ballerina. She still knew her stuff.

I had been very wrong.

Standing in the room of privately educated students who'd gone through their entire life under the tutelage of ex-professionals, my skin was a mottled red, and not from the physical exertion.

The glances in my direction were less than subtle.

I'd known coming into the school as a scholarship girl was going to be tough. I was from a different world. I was a commoner born and bred and I stuck out like a sore thumb next to all the upper class gifts-from-God I was currently surrounded by.

It was maybe unfair for me to have decided that they were all stuck up pigs already, but my embarrassed brain was programmed to hate everyone on instinct.

Especially the girl, front and centre, who kept turning around to snigger at my poor performance.

Our instructor, Mrs. Mellier, kept her eyes averted. I followed the moves she demonstrated to the best of my ability, and her scowl continued to grow. I could have sworn she actually flinched at my arabesque.

The end of the lesson couldn't come quick enough. Not just the lesson, but the entire year. I'd been expecting hardship in the social aspect, to maybe be a bit behind when it came to the ballet, but this wasn't something I could work on for a week and be up to scratch. I was going to be an outcast in every sense of the word for the next ten months.

I missed my friends, and I missed my home, and I'd taken an instant dislike to everyone in this stupid school.

I'd won an impossible scholarship, I was headed towards great things, but it felt like I'd just had a big kick up my backside. When my ballet teacher had to physically shield her face so as not to see me dancing, it wasn't a sign of great things to come.

When she finally dismissed us, my shoulders slumped. My muscles weren't sore—I was at my physical prime—my technique was just appalling.

Now that was over, I could go back to my dorm and regret my decision to come here. Crying and raiding my chocolate stash was the only option.

I was missing the friends who were old enough to buy booze the most so far.

I bent down to pick my jumper up from the corner and almost bashed into the girl I'd been glaring at all lesson. We were the same height and she was stood far too close to be comfortable.

I didn't step back.

She stuck out her hand and held it there expectantly. This entire place was ridiculous. "I'm Amber." Her accent was the worst thing about all this. My northern drawl was laughable here. She probably wouldn't be able to understand a thing I said.

"Carly," I replied, my attempt at a smile failing. The smug sneer twisting her lips screamed of a further attempt to embarrass me.

"Those were some nice moves out there." She tucked a long blonde strand behind her ear. "It's obvious you really deserve to be here."

So that was how it was going to be. "Thank you." My grin was wide and fake. "And—"

The instructor intervened before I could run my mouth at her. "Carly, I need to speak to you." My goal should have been to stay under the radar as much as possible, not to fling insults at everyone who made fun of me, but it was an automatic reaction.

"I guess I'll see you next lesson, Amber, and every fucking lesson after that, too." My voice disappeared to a mutter as I followed Mrs. Mellier from the room. She had been one of the people on the panel who judged my audition, so she couldn't have been too surprised by my standard. I may have practised my routine every day for about six months, but there was only so much my ability could have been inflated.

We walked in silence. I kept pace with her, my chin held high. They knew what they were taking on when they offered me the place, I wasn't going to hang my head and whimper about being bad. At least not outwardly.

No doubt she was already worrying about the ugly stain I'd be on their end of year performance. Maybe they'd just cut me out of it. Did everyone get a part at these posh schools?

She opened the door to her office and gestured for me to take a seat. A man sat in the corner, he couldn't have been older than thirty, and I tried not to stare. There'd been some decent looking guys in my lesson, but he took the cake, despite his full-on pout. No doubt I was responsible for that. I was a sucker, though, and I still thought it was adorable. His thick eyebrows were knitted to perfection as he stared into space and he didn't even move the strand of brown hair that hung in his eyes.

Crossing her arms and taking a seat, Mrs. Mellier finally gave me a good look over. "I'm sure that lesson gave you a taste of how the rest of the year is going to be here at Briarwood. Now, it was expected that you'd be below standard." She wasn't even paying me her full attention. Her fingers clacked on the keyboard in front of me. I was really going to need to work on my patience this year. "And so we're assigning you a personal tutor."

So that was why the cutie in the corner looked so miserable.

"This is Mr. Langley. He'll be giving you lessons after school on a regular basis to help improve your technique and ability. I hope to find that you're up to scratch in no time."

Ballet had never made me nervous before, but I'd also been in a tiny class of all girls my entire life. Having them touch me to try and correct my apparently appalling posture was nothing.

But I could see the muscle of Mr. Langley's arms bulging against his tight top as he crossed his arms. Dancing was sexy—at least to watch. I was going to go find out whether that was down to acting as much as I thought.

My stomach was doing flips when I accepted.

My gaze dropped to his legs for a moment, but he was wearing jeans. Whilst there hadn't been any guys in my actual dance class, I'd been to see plenty of ballets on stage. I wasn't ashamed to admit that my eyes drifted to asses more times than I could count during a performance.

There was something intrinsically appealing about a toned man's legs in clothes that tight.

"We'll start tomorrow at five o'clock." Mr. Langley was just as posh as everyone else I'd heard speak today. It was easy to mock a woman's upper class accent to hide my jealousy, but I could accept that I found a man's voice talking in the Queen's English arousing. It was just so different from anything back where I lived that I revelled in it.

"Sure," I replied, horribly conscious of my Geordie drawl.

He shot a look to Mrs. Mellier and she nodded back. The way he left the room was too elegant to be called a scamper, but it told me all I needed to know. He wasn't looking forward to our private lessons as much as I was.

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Hi everyone! This is my first story, a student/teacher romance set in an elite ballet Academy. I've already completed the writing, so there should be guaranteed updates. I'm just editing as I go, now. I expect to be publishing a chapter once every two days! 

Hope this was enjoyable!