A Little Story About Love

Part 3

Max

Chance and I talked for hours. The sun went down, the stars came out, and after a while I relaxed. I probably felt comfortable because Chance was most certainly straight, and I felt no pressure to impress him. We talked about a lot of things; he told me about his family back in England. His mum and little sister lived in Liverpool; Chance had paid for his ticket to Australia himself. He was living on his own just like me. Chance asked me about my family as well, but when I got quiet and looked away in discomfort, he respectfully changed the subject. We compared schedules and found that he was transferring into several of my classes. It was one of the best nights of my life and I went back to my room feeling warm and a little more alive. I stayed up all night talking to Elle and watching Disney movies.

*~*~*

The next morning I was just sitting down against the wall of the dance studio to tie my pointe shoes, when Chance stumbled in looking like he had just risen from the dead, and more than a little lost. I stifled a small chuckle and stood up to greet him.

"Good morning."

Chance stopped in his tracks, bewildered, then spotted me and laughed sleepily, "Mornin'," he mumbled.

"You dance? Or are you lost?" I asked as I resumed tying my pointe shoes.

"Oh yeah. I dance," he smiled, "You?"

"Yeah me too," I gestured to my shoes, "What type of dance do you do?"

"Breakdance mostly, some more free form stuff too. What about you? Ballet?"

"I do just about everything except breakdance," I laughed uncomfortably. Everyone had one or two areas of focus, except me. Every type of dance fascinated me. I wanted to learn them all.

"You want to be a professional dancer?"

"Definitely," I looked down at my hands, "Someday I want to be in Cirque Du Soleil."

"Ah, you're a gymnast as well," Chance grinned, "I learn something new every day."

We talked more about dance as we warmed up. I just about died when Chance took off his shirt to reveal a body that looked as though it had been carved out of marble. I left my own shirt on, growing ever more conscious of the silver right in my left nipple, and the pure size of Chance. Next to him I was a fairy. I wasn't scrawny or built like a wisp of grass, but I was very small, and Chance was the exact opposite.

Several girls from my ballet class began filing into the studio, pulling their hair up into buns, or putting on last-minute make up. They exchanged meaningful looks, giggling and whispering to each other, throwing subtle glances at Chance and his bare chest. A few of them greeted him, blushing profusely as he dazzled them with his heart-warming smile. If I needed any confirmation that Chance was straight, I got it. I slunk away, knowing what he would do when he found out I was gay, and wanting to postpone the inevitable.