Dancing Into His Arms (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter Two : Don't Forget Where You Belong Part 2

"Sit down, Marcella."

I look at her questioningly, slowly making my way to the chair in front of her desk.

"I said sit down! Do you think I have all day?!?"

I then quickly scuttle over and take a seat. I tilt my head to look at Abby, confused. "What is this about?" I ask.

Abby clicks her pen and opens her mouth as if she's about to speak, then shuts it, as if weighing her words carefully. "What are your plans for the future, Marcella?"

I stare hard at the ground, and kick my feet, almost like I'm still a child. Hey, I might be a legal adult, but that doesn't mean I feel like one. I pretty much feel like I have a mind of a twelve year old boy, yet a body of a nineteen year old girl. Wait, scratch that, my body also resembles that of a 12 year old boy. Booobbbs! When whilst thou come?!?

"Why.... Does it matter in some way?"

I know what's about to happen now. The spiel I've heard a thousand times:

'You're an adult, act like one!' and the 'Why are you the only one who's not working towards your future? Jordan, Ashley, Sierre, and Winter are all branching out into their own thing, why aren't you?' Blah, blah, and so on.

It is weird for her to call me to her office to talk about this. Though, I'm still going to try to dodge the question as much as I can.

Abby's eyes roll to the ceiling, carefully placing her words again.

"Marcella... You're my best dancer. My prize pupil, who's destined for greatness. Why are you still here when I've taught you all I could? I know you've been turning down job opportunities. Shakira offered you a job as her backup dancer FOR GOD'S SAKE! WORLD FANOUS SHAKIRA! And you turned her down!

"People see potential in you, Marcella, and yet you shy away from the chances you've been getting in life! It's like you're.. Afraid of the prospect of being on you're own. You're nineteen, Marcella! For God's sake grow up!!"

I open my mouth to defend myself "I'm not-" ,abruptly I stop, she's right.

Everything she said is completely true. I am afraid of growing up, and I am afraid of moving forward, afraid of leaving everything I've known behind.

Sure, the Shakira thing was a big opportunity, but did I want to risk it? I've had anxiety for as long as I can remember, so everything familiar, just feels.....safe.

I bite my lip irritatedly, she doesn't need to be so blunt about it! I start again,

"I'm quite capable of-" But, of course, she cuts me off.

"No! Marcella!! There's no excuse! I've tutored and trained you for years, I took you under my wing! All for one purpose, for you to succeed. Not so you could just sit around here like a headless duck!"

I'm stunned, my fists are clenched in my lap, not because she's wrong, but because everything she's saying is true. I can feel my nails dig into the palms of my hands, it's too much, I've been dreading this talk. I've been dreading this confrontation with reality

"OKAY, I KNOW! I know, I know..." I burst out,

"I'm just scared to leave...This is my home, my family, I grew up here. The world out there just looks so so.....cruel."

My eyes moisten, and I can feel my mascara getting soggy. I bolt up, suddenly conscious of how weak I'm being.

I quickly glance up to see Abby's face....What?

I'm shocked for a heartbeat.

I see care and understanding in her eyes, almost like that of a mother.

But that only lasted for a moment, a second later she had that old, nonchalant attitude on her face.

She fidgets with her pen, beginning to speak again,

"I understand how you feel Marcella, but..but" she hesitates.

"You can't let that ruin all you've worked for. All I've worked for. All the hours you've spent from 5:00 to 1:00am everyday, all the school you've missed, the childhood you never had, just to succeed. It's paid off. People from all over the world come up to you and tell you how much they love you; how much you inspire them with your dancing. Newspapers beg for interviews with you, and agents are lined up to sign you. You can't let these chances slip by you, all the fire and publicity will die away if you don't take advantage of it. You can't let anything ruin your moment, not guilt, not anything!"

I know she's talking about how I've been purposefully messing up whenever my teammates are around, just so that they don't feel bad.

She continues, "You'll become old news, just like the other millions of broken dancers lined up on Hollywood Boulevard, surviving off pennies."

I cringe, I really don't want that to happen.

"Anyway..." Her eyes roll up to the ceiling. She's fidgeting with her pen again.

"I didn't just call you in here to point out your faults. I called you in here to notify you of a job opportunity. There will be a very well known popstar at the dance competition in France this weekend. His management is considering you to be one of the back up dancers for his world tour, which is beginning on May 2nd. You might have heard of him-" She pauses for dramatic effect, "....Harry Styles?" Abby's eyes slide over to me as I'm beginning to process what she just said and-

Wait....DID SHE JUST SAY HARRY STYLES?!

I almost burst out laughing, Alexandra isn't going to believe this, I'm going to rub it into her face so much.

I am possibly the poorest choice. I'm not even a fan of Harry, or even his music. Okay, hus new stuff is pretty good, I have to say, 1D splitting up may have been the best thing to happen to his career.

But besides that, I'm more into alternative music that nobody's heard of. Hahaha, I'm so screwed. "You can't screw this up, Marcella" Damn, she read my mind "This could open up the world to you. Don't blow it."

Abby looks up at the clock, "I'm going to lunch, okay kiddo, I'll see you for training in a bit."

I sit alone in Abby's office for a while.

I regret everything, I could've been Shakira's backup dancer. Instead, I might be touring with this dude, who may be hot but is MOST LIKELY GAY. Alexandra has told me and the squad all about Larry, and it seems pretty real if you ask me.

Especially since she was rolling around crying on the floor at a sleepover screaming, "WHY DOESN'T HARRY LOVVVVEE MEHHHHHHH" over and over. But then again, that's a relatively reasonable response at 3 am with 6 bottles of half empty Mountain Dews laying around. I imagine the possible reponses from my childhood friends after I tell them about this, as I shut the door to Abby's office.

They'll probably try to use me in their plot to kidnap Harry (when we were 14, we promised Alexandra we'd all kidnap Harry for her 18th birthday. Never happened, so we pushed it back to her 20th, which just so happens to be right around the corner) Haha, I can't wait to tell them.