Stereotypical

XVII | She, Who Couldn't Give It Up

When I was two, my mother started grooming me to dance.

She was a dance instructor, and owned her own studio. I wasn't alone; Jackson learned to dance before me, but stopped when he hit seven. I continued on until I was thirteen. Mom always talked about me taking up responsibility for the Elysian Dance Company, but I hadn't been all too enthusiastic about running a company.

What if I screwed everything up (as I always did) and ran the place to the ground? I wasn't confident that I'd keep the studio running long enough to pass it on myself, and I didn't want to be the one people looked to for directions.

I was such a fucking mess and I didn't want people to see that.

I was packing my duffel bag when the front door downstairs opened. I waited patiently for Parker to stomp up the stairs and burst into my bedroom. I'd shoved my footwear into the clutter of things as he pushed the door open. "Carson."

"Parker."

"Carson."

"Parker."

He settled himself in front of me, eyeing the duffel bag. "What are you doing?"

I stood, slinging it over my shoulder. "Running away. It was nice knowing you." I walked past him, scratching my head.

Parker obviously didn't believe me, but he played along. "Where to?"

"Some place far." I replied, skipping downstairs. The next several moments were spent in silence as I took a water bottle and shoved it in with my equipment. He followed me through the house and out of the front door.

"Well, can I come?"

I paused, surprised. "Uh..." What would he say when I whipped out a key to some closed dance studio? How mad would he be that I didn't tell him?

Ha - there were things worse.

"I'll carry my own weight," he said with a smile. "I swear."

I smiled back. "Okay. Can you drive me?" It was better than the ten-minute walk through butt-biting cold. And I was becoming addicted to his company. Even if his girlfriend didn't like it. He didn't answer, just gestured to the car. I tapped its hood. "We meet again, Bat-Mobile."

Parker rolled his eyes. "You kill me."

"Pew-pew." I hopped into the passenger seat and set my bag on my lap.

As we went down the street, Parker said, "About last night. Or...this morning. Um."

"Um," I echoed. "Way to squash the pink elephant."

"Shut up," he stuck his lips out. "Anyways, I explained everything to Emily. I think we came to an agreement."

"Did you agree to disagree?" I suggested, earning a playful slap to the side of my head. "Oh - turn here."

He turned the wheel. "She said that she has no problem with us being friends and all. She just doesn't like us sleeping. In the same bed. You know."

I shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to crash on the floor from now on." I had been waiting for this moment; when Emily would put her foot down. We were constantly pushing the limits, and I guess that's what Parker was used to. But I'd rather play it safe than answer to an angry Emily.

"I guess." Parker agreed. I told him to make a right and stop at the first building on the left. He did, and I looked up at the sign. Elysian Dance Studio. Oblivious, Parker turned to me. "So, runaway, is there anything I can do to change your mind?"