Pointe Shoes, Pen Ink, and Rosin

"Savannah, you kissed me"

        Savannah walked back to her building with nothing but what had been imprinted into her mind and heart; her first kiss.
        "Hi..." said Dallas in a sing-song voice.
        Savannah's head was in the clouds, but she managed a smile. She didn't want to think about the present moment, just about what happened at Abigail's dorm.
        "So how'd it go?" asked Dallas, interrupting Savannah's thoughts.
        "What?"
        "Your kiss. Duh."
        "Oh."
        "I know you kissed someone. It totally shows. You're like 'What the fuck just happened? Oh yeah, I tongue wrestled with someone!'"
        "Dallas I'm tired," pleaded Savannah.
        "Don't change the subject! I want to know details. How long did it last? Did you get into his pants?"
        "Dallas! Stop!"
        Savannah was confused and overwhelmed. She had never considered having feelings for someone of the same gender. She wasn't sure if she would be able to let anyone know about this. She wasn't even sure if that's how she felt.
Should I tell Dallas? Will she see me differently? 
        "I'm tired. I actually really want to go to bed. I'm sorry, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Probably," said Savannah.
        "Oh...ok. Goodnight then," said Dallas, who was confused and a little disappointed because her level of excitement was not being reciprocated.
I bet she just had a bad experience, thought Dallas to herself. He probably stuck his tongue too far down her throat. She laughed to herself and got ready for bed.
•••
        "Technique shoes. Where are my technique shoes?" Savannah paced up and down her dorm room. She looked through all her bags and under tables and in drawers. She even looked in the bathroom. She spent an entire 32 minutes looking for her technique shoes, which meant she only had approximately 10 minutes to get ready for technique class which was at 9 am.
        "I don't get it. I'm one of the most responsible people I know. How could I lose my shoes?"
        "What are y'looking for?" asked Dallas groggily.
        "My technique shoes."
        "Oh," Dallas paused. "OH! Um, I think I found them last night. After I spilled punch in the kitchen." She hesitated and then ran to grab the shoes. "And...I might have used your dance shoes to soak up the punch. Listen, I'm so sorry. It was dark and I just needed a cloth of some sort—"
        "Damn! Dallas! Ugh, I have to go," Savannah snatched her stained cloth technique shoes which were bright pink now.
        "God dammit, Dallas," she muttered as she rushed out the door and to her ballet class.
Pling! Savannah's phone lit up with a text.
        A text from Abigail.
        The Abigail that Savannah had kissed the previous night.
        Savannah's heart sped up and Savannah remembered that she was going to see Abigail in class today.
        The text said:
Abigail: Where are you? Running late?
        Savannah ignored the text. She didn't have time to type. Or think, for that matter.
•••
        Abigail's face lit up when Savannah sprinted into the room. Savannah looked at the floor and placed her bags down by Abigail's.
        "Hey. This isn't Savannah behavior, you're usually earlier," said Abigail.
         Savannah blushed and nodded. She pulled her technique shoes out of her bag.
        "What-Savannah. Do you need to borrow my techniques?" asked Abigail.
        Savannah felt her face get hot and she laughed. "If you don't mind...yeah. My roommate is a dumbass."
        "The purple haired one? I met her last night!"
        They were both reminded of last night's events.
        Abigail was the first to speak after an awkward silence. "I'm sort of confused. You're being weird. Are you interested in me? I'd be happy with being in a relationship with you but it seems like you don't want to talk to me."
        "To be honest, I don't know. I don't know if I like you that way."
        "Savannah, you kissed me." 
        "I know. I just don't know if I'm..." She thought of the word. She never thought she'd be saying it and referring to herself. She said quietly, "Gay. Or bi. Or whatever."
        "Well neither do I, but once you figure it out, let me know, I guess?" Abigail was visibly upset.
        They headed to the barre and the class began with pliés and rondé jambs.