✔︎Ballerina Boy ❥ ot4

❥seventeen❥

❥Seventeen❥

"Oh, fuck!" Calum swore in surprise as he exited the airport. Icy cold rain fell from the sky in sheets, dousing the Australians instantly. Many of the AAG students wore t-shirts, and they were all accustomed to insanely high temperatures.

Ashton shivered, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to stay warm. Calum, Michael, and Luke noticed instantly, and they huddled around the smaller boy. Ashton shivered, leaning into their hold and drawing his shoulders up by his ears in an attempt to protect his exposed shoulder. Michael shrugged off his hoodie, playfully tugging at Ashton's lip to quiet his protests. The blonde boy smiled gratefully as he slid the hoodie over his head, flinching and scrunching his nose when one of the strings hit and splashed him. It reminded Calum of a rabbit, but a rabbit with gorgeous hazel eyes, sun-kissed skin, and a giggle that was absolutely precious.

"Plans for today are cancelled!" a teacher screamed, quieting the many grumbling Australians. "Students with signed permission slips may take a taxi to the hotel, everyone else will be walking with the teachers!" he continued, pulling an umbrella from his suitcase. "Follow me!"

Silently thanking the gods above and below, Calum hailed a taxi for the four boys. They'd each gotten a special permission slip signed—or in Ashton's case, he'd signed his own permission slip—allowing them to travel Paris without a teacher's supervision. It was something most schools wouldn't allow, but advanced schools tended to be on a different level, with different status quos.

A yellow cab pulled up alongside the four teenagers, with a cheery woman behind the wheel. She smiled brightly at each boy in turn as they all squeezed into the back seat, long legs flailing and droplets of rainwater flying from their clothes and hair. As soon as they were situated, the woman started speaking in rapid-fire French. Each boy knew at least some French and roughly understood, but Ashton was the most fluent. He replied flawlessly, listing the name of the hotel, apologising for the water that had doused the backseat, and complimenting the woman's hot pink jacket. Smiling happily and sitting up a little straighter to show off the jacket, she started driving.

As Ashton got comfortable in his seat, squished tightly between the three taller boys, the cabbie spoke once more. "Bienvenue à Paris," she said.

—

"Warm." Michael practically purred as he buried himself in thick blankets, clad in dry clothes with a beanie pulled over his green hair. Ashton giggled at the sight as he dried his messy blonde curls with a lavish hotel towel. Calum and Luke were both in similar states, dressed in fresh clothes with damp hair and warming skin. The teenagers had practically sprinted from the taxi and into their hotel, luggage bouncing along behind them. Currently, they sat in Ashton's hotel room with the heat blasting. Michael was on the large bed, Calum was sprawled out on a couch, and Luke was spread-eagled on the plushly carpeted floor. Ashton was curled up on a squishy chair, a fleece blanket wrapped around his lithe frame. He'd changed into soft black leggings and an oversized sweater that technically belonged to one of the other boys.

"Hey Ballerina Boy," Calum said, his voice muffled by the hoodie he was hiding part of his face in. Ashton looked over, continuing to dry his hair. "You know what the best fucking way to warm up is?" Calum continued, chocolate-coloured eyes twinkling. "Body heat." The Maori boy waggled his eyebrows.

Ashton giggled and playfully stuck his tongue out. "Or movement," he quipped, standing up. The ballerina twirled and executed a bunch of fancy moves that his companions didn't know the names of. He moved fluidly and with ease as if the dance moves were ingrained into him. The boy made it look easy and effortless, like it took the same amount of effort as wiggling his fingers.