Logan
I don't think anyone realizes how important the dance studio is to me. I'm sure the general idea is that I get my mind off of things. But the studio is more than that. It's my home.
I've been a part of the studio ever since I moved here. Tina was one of the first human beings I talked to. I asked her if I could ever just use the studio to myself. The other places I had done research about said I couldn't. There was always the small likelihood I could use the dance rooms on campus—but those are usually full. And I didn't want people to take notice in me.
When Tina said yes, I felt so much relief run through me. I dance there every week. I know the place like I know all my tattoos. Tina even trusts me enough with a spare key. I'm glad that the classes and lessons are small because I feel like I'm a part of a family instead of a routine. Where would I go after this? The studio is one of the very few places that make me genuinely happy. And happiness is not something I can give up so easily.
I'm sure plenty of you are all wondering how I started dancing. Well, it's my sisters fault. Veronica is three years older than me. Having a big sister is probably one of the best things that could have ever happened to me. But no way am I ever going to tell her that.
To be honest, Vero—that's what everyone in the family calls her—is a great sister and I learned a lot from her. As a young boy, I was always jealous when she would go to dance classes without me. It made me sad that I had to stay home and do nothing for a few hours while she came back laughing with a group of friends. Eventually, I whined so much to my mom, she managed to convince my father to let me join dancing.
I think my dad was afraid I was gay. He's a very down to earth kind of guy, but the thought of his only son being gay didn't make him mad. Just a bit sad. Who cares now, right? I'm straight. We all realized that when I came home and said, "Dad you should have seen how many cute girls there are in my class. Do you think I'll get a girlfriend?"
I was like six. The cooties phase never really hit me. I think it's because I have an older sister. She used to slobber on me while we were growing up so cooties was always non-existent or I'd have totally had it. Anyways, I started going to the dance lessons with Vero. She was placed in a different level than me but I didn't care. I thought dance was fun. I was one of the only guys in the whole studio. There was another one that was Vero's age and then one more who was just a bit older. But I was the youngest, which meant I always got a solo in our recitals.
Eventually, dance became a part of me. Sure, my best friends teased me a bit in high school. The four of us attended an all-boys boarding school. There weren't any girls to impress but the first night we sneaked out to a small-town party, I busted some moves on the dance floor. Guess who had the chicks lining? That's right—me. The youngest of our group.
After that night out, my friends basically begged for me to teach them how to dance. As sketchy as it sounds, we would go into broom closets or behind the bleachers where I would show them the basic steps to dancing with a girl. And I mean actual dancing. Not the weird swaying teens do at prom.
The point I'm trying to make is that...the dance studio can't close. It just can't. I've invested so much time there. I've become a part of that studio as much as it's become a part of me. Sure, once I graduate this year and move away I'll be sad for leaving. But leaving and knowing it's still there is better than leaving and knowing it's not.
Think clearly, I pace back and forth in my apartment. Think clearly.
I did as Harper asked and spent the week trying to latch onto ideas for fundraisers. As hard as I try, I'm too worried to think of anything. That's the other thing, when I start feeling down it's almost impossible for me to think straight. Imagine someone telling you to stare straight at a red dot. But then rainbow dots start to form around it. It's overwhelming. I'd say borderline ADHD but I know people who struggle with that too so I won't compare my problems with theirs.
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YOU ARE READING
Low
Romance*Book 2 of the Saint J's Boys* "Please," Logan gave me a heartwarming smile. "Call me Lo." "Alright," I crossed my arms over my chest. "What's your story, Lo?" His eyebrow raised up at me as his smile suddenly turned into a smirk, "Where do I even b...