Ballerina and The Bad Boy

Chapter Three: aranea

Aranea: spider's web.
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"Do you fancy him?" Elle asks as we sit down at our lunch table after my encounter with the devil. I groan, he's gotten into my head. I've barely ever particularly fancied any guy, so must it be Pierce de Vries?

"No," I reply firmly, "not at all. That bastard's so cocky, I don't find him charming in any way. And I do like my men classy." Elle giggles, rolls her eyes and dig into her mushy peas.

"Besides, a guy like him will never be sincere." I say. I take a bite out of my sandwich then drown it with tomato soup. Something in my throat makes it seem impossible to eat.

"You know, I'd hate to see your heart broken. But he's offered to take you to the winter ball. It'll be fun. If you do feel uncomfortable, you're allowed to leave him and join us." Tyler says. He hesitates a little at the word 'us'.

"He's right. It's not like you have to stay with him for the whole night." Elle says.

"I'll take that into consideration." I shrug and shove a huge spoonful of tomato soup into my mouth.

"Speaking of which, have you got a date Elle?" Tyler asks.

"I'm afraid not. Might as well go to the winter ball alone." she sighs, "have you?"

"No - at least not yet. I was wondering if you'd go with me." he takes a rose from his backpack and offers it to Elle.

"Oh God. I..yes!" she says, her eyes wide open, taking the rose and gives Tyler a peck on the cheek. I look at them and grin. I raised my boy right. He's got the guts.

Soon enough, I get up and put my tray away. And God bless my timing, I bump into Pierce. To my surprise, he smiles discreetly and walks away. I sigh and walk back to the table where my bestfriends sit and suck the life out of each other's tongue.

"I'm off to class." I say, picking up my bag. Elle waves me off.

I look at my schedule. Perfect. I have PE and we're playing volleyball. Guess who bloody sucks at volleyball? Me!

The teacher had already assigned the teams. I head to the gymnasium and take a peek at her clipboard.

RED TEAM
Anneliese as captain
Lola
Thomas
Sam
Pierce

Just my luck.

"So, Lola will be the outside hitter, as I will be the right side hitter. Sam as middle blocker, Thomas as opposite hitter and Pierce as setter." I say after we've gathered into our teams.

"Aye, aye captain." Pierce smirks and salutes.

After the game, Elle and I head back to the changing room. "Pierce was definitely checking out your ass back there." she laughs. I roll my eyes, though, deep inside me, I feel a tingle.

"You're flushed." El points out.

"No I'm not, it's merely because of the game. Nearly died out there." I say as a threw my bag over my shoulders and head to the sink.

"You are!" she smiles. We walk out to the front gate. Tyler joins us and I can see him and Elle exchanging glances. Lord knows what they're going to do after I leave.

"Anyways, I have ballet today. Till 9, I believe." I say.

"Oh..Tyler and I are planning to go the movies." Elle smiles shyly. Ah, I see. They're more than just ball dates.

"Well played, you ol' chap" I smile and hold out my arms for a group hug, "I truly am happy for you both."

After a while, I reach the dance studio. Despite everything that's happened today, I'm still very excited. Sugar plum fairy here I come.

I walk into the changing room and slip on my clothes and leg warmer.

"Anneliese, is it?" a woman comes up to me as I walk in the studio.

"Yes?" I reply.

"I'm Madame Esther, perhaps Madame Rosanna has mentioned me to you?" she smiles.

"Definitely," I grin, "my mother tells me she watched your performance as the sugar plum fairy when I was a baby."

"Is that so?" she gushes. We talk a bit more and after a while, she dismisses me to go to the barre for warm up.

The lesson is over and it is 6 o'clock.

"Rehearsals start in a 5 minutes!" Madame Esther shouts from the studio.

"Congratulations Anneliese. You deserved the role." Willow hugs me. Her embrace is more like a juicing machine, where she drains the living life out of me. I know that because she despises me. Willow Collins, 1/4 of Charlotte's clique. As Madame Rosanna's daughter, you'd think she'd be an Anna Pavlova of the 20th century but she really isn't.

"Thanks, Willow." I say.

I check the songs for the performance on my phone as I walk to the studio. Then I bump into someone and spill their coffee.

"Oh God."