Sway with me (Zayn Malik)

Prologue:

"Ladies and gentlemen,Tonight's gonna be a good night, everyone please enjoy, Alexandria Juliano perform: The Black swan!"

The crowd clapped their hands. Two acts needs to perform before I come out. I'll be white and dark. Two impostors living in one body. Shattered with shame and lust for the prince to be.

They were done, it's my turn.

"My love," I screamed.

"You. Who are you?" The prince pointed at me.

"It is me, my prince, Analise."

"No! Analise is pure, kind and fond and you on the other hand's secretive, devious and selfish. Bring back my Analise or you shall be killed."

The place got dim, the spotlight was on me and the prince was nowhere to be found, it was my time to sparkle with what life calls the glorious moment, my momentum.

I raised my hands in the air, tossed one leg in mid and tip-toed into mini circles dramatically. Placing a hand in my chest, cry for help as the man I loved thought I was my black enemy.

I lowered my back looking like a small cropted rainbow. I pulled my leg up and turned. I spun like a little dog confused with what is it in his tail.

Love was never in my book. Never in my portfolio, I never loved anybody else but myself. Didn't have a father nor a mother. Grew up in a small orphanage and taught myself to be tough. Dancing's my passion, my one and only past-time and only time. I carry it as both a burden and a blessing. Payed my life with this so-called job. I dance to earn money, never was it for fun.

The show ended and we all took our bows.

I headed backstage when somebody called out my name:

"Alex,"

It was my manager.

"Come here darling, someone wants to talk to you."

Darling? I'm not some stupid girl from a hit show in bravo.

"Yes?" I shook hands with old stranger.

"Alex, this is ..."

"Hello, I'm Alberto, nice to meet you." Alberto cut Khalel and kissed the back of my hand.

"Cosi come e stata la mia performance?" I asked how my performance was in italian. I knew he was Italian.

"Grande ma .... nessuna espressione" He said.

"What?!" I nearly scared the folks behind us.

"Why is girl yelling at me? girl very rude." The italian douche said to Khalel.

"Well, Mi piaci ma voglio ucciderti" I walked away.

They were fighting as I left.

The nerve of that man to tell me that. I've been dancing for years and I haven't heard that stupid comment before. Who's he to tell me that my dancing was expression-less.

I stormed out in the back.

I was in some garage or garbage something. Someone was smoking and I felt like smoking, so what? This is a free country.

I searched my pockets for  cigarette bun and walked towards the man. I can't see his face clearly but he looks familiar. He has a lighter so I asked:

"Lit me?"

He pulled out his lighter and lit my cigarette.

"Thanks. What's with you?"

"The usual. Stress, you?"

"Douche-y manager and crazy italian dude. So yeah the usual."

He smiled. He did look familiar.

"ALEX?! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!" My manager called, he's extremely nice but nights like this when I'm all bitchy he's bitchy as well.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." I wip the last smoke I can get and threw it in the bin.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Hmmmm, just call me brad."

"I'm alex, thanks for the .." I motioned to the cigarette.

He nodded and went back to his world.

"Okay, let it rip." I said.

"What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"That, speaking in french then storming out? He stepped on my swade shoes because of the last thing you said before you walked out."

"First of all, it was italian second way to be a man with your fancy-ass swage shoes and third, I said that I liked him but I wanted to kill him."

He turned red. "Now why did you say that?!"

"He told me that my dancing was expression-less. That son of a--"

"Yeah, that son of a bitch who gave me a deal with you for 4 million dollars just as you perform at the grand stand this winter. Yeah, that son of a bitch called your dancing expression-less well, he has the right to because that son of a bitch owns you as of now."

"Oh," I whispered.

"Yeah, oh."

"So, what now?"

"You're going to Barcelona."

"Yeah right, you're just gonna ship me because I did some shit."

I laughed until I noticed that he was serious.

"Wait, you're not kidding?"

"No, because if the man who owns the biggest dancing arena and dancing areas tells you that your dancing ain't that good. means that it's not good. Take some time off. Go to Barcelona and figure your self out. The ticket and everything will be ready when you pack up tonight. Your flight leaves at 10. You've got 3 hours to pack. This is what you need Alex."

I can't even speak. I'm like what the hell?

I've been dancing my whole life and after one guy told me that my dancing was expression-less I get to be boarded into some country I don't even know so well with people I don't know.

This is messed up.