The Choreographer

22: Intervention

"Lift your leg a but more." Wyatt instructs. I obey his command and lift my left leg higher. I am shaky and I hope he can't tell. "You haven't been exercising." He observes.

"I was busy..." I defend.

"This is your one job." He points out.

"I got sick?" I try.

"Two days." He says.

"I...." I trail off trying to find some explanation. "I got kind of lazy." I say.

"Isabel, Isabel, Isabel." He chastises.

"I know!" I groan, focusing extra hard on my elevated leg. I can't deal with him right now.

"You know, Miss Prodigy, you might have natural talent, but only hard work will make you better than all the other talented ballerinas."

"I know, Wyatt." I say, exasperated.

"I beg to differ." He says, leaning against the wall. This is probably a sin, but I think Wyatt is way too attractive in this moment and I have to look away to maintain sanity. "If you knew, you would have done leg exercises."

"Okay, mom." I roll my eyes.

"Mom?" He asks me.

"You wanna be my dad?" I ask, my hair falling in my face, I am feeling the burn of my leg up in the air.

"How about you just exercise your legs?" He asks.

I drop my leg, and then myself to the ground. I sigh. Wyatt looks down at me. "You are pathetic Isabel."

"And you're ugly." I lie.

Wyatt laughs. "Whatever you say, but seriously, don't skip leg day, if you do I'll make you go running for cardio."

"I hate running." I groan.

"Is this how your Direction boys acted when you tried to teach them dances?" Wyatt phrases this as a question but I know that it's an insult.

"No, they acted much more mature than I am." Sarcasm has taken over.

"Your boyfriend hate me." Wyatt smirks.

"My boyfriend hates the bagger at the grocery store who helps me bag my food. Don't feel special." I tell him, sitting up.

"Possessive?" Wyatt asks.

"No." I say. "He's not, he's just...not jealous..." I pause. Harry is kind of jealous, but then he's not, because I told him that he wasn't allowed to be. But I think if I told Wyatt that Harry pulled an Elsa on his feelings of possessiveness because I told him too he would probably mistake Harry for a pansy, which he's not.

"Not jealous, but jealous?" Wyatt guesses.

"Exactly." I say.

We both look up at the sound of shoes tramping down the hall. Daisy walks in and I'm surprised she even knew where I was.

"Oh." She stops walking and looks at Wyatt. I see understanding wash over her features as she realizes why Harry hates Wyatt. She clears her throat. "I, uhm, have a problem." She tells me.

"How did you get here?" I ask. Wyatt subtlety gives Daisy a once over.

"Harry gave me directions..." She explains. "He gave me...one direction." She adds on, smiling at her awful joke attempt.

"Fine, whatever." I comply. "What's the problem?" I ask.

"I kind of..." She pauses. "I kind of..." She fidgets.

"You kind of...?" I move my hand around trying to encourage her to finish her sentence.

"I kind of...I may or may not have..." She pauses again. "Perrie thinks Zayn and me are a thing." She says.