Dancing With The Player | ✓

Chapter 11

Brielle

5:54 PM

"Five, six, seven, eight!" I shouted, trying to be heard over the blasting music.

It had been nearly a week since Christopher and I had went to the carnival. Ever since then, we were awkward around each other, not really knowing what to say to one another. We used to be able to hide behind our bickering, but ever since then we couldn't. After that night, I knew that something had changed between us, but I didn't know that it would happen in this way. Our usual banter was replaced by total silence.

We were in the dance studio, practicing our routine for the showcase. We finished scraping the gum from under the bleachers, so now my complete focus was on this dance. Christopher knew the basic choreography of our routine, but his technique still needed to be improved tremendously. I knew that we still had a long way to go. He struggled the most with the lifts in the routine. Although he was strong, he had no idea how to execute them, and how to make them look graceful. Because of this, I was too scared to practice them with him.

When we got to the most difficult lift, I held my breath, not wanting him to drop me. He threw me up in the air successfully, but when it came time to catch me, his hand slipped from my waist. My eyes widened, as the floor became closer and closer and closer until...

Thud.

Hot, white pain coursed through my body as I landed on the floor. In an effort to break my fall, I fell on my left foot, causing my ankle to roll in the process. I curled in a ball on the studio floor, grabbing my ankle and rolling back and forth in pain. Christopher quickly kneeled beside me, his face laced with concern.

"Are you okay Brielle?" He asked franticly, running his fingers through his hair. "Do you need anything?"

I shook my head no as I bit my lip to hold in the pain.

"I'm fine," I squeaked out, using all my energy to sound remotely okay. I held in my tears, wanting to stay strong.

He offered a hand towards me. "Are you okay getting up?"

I nodded my head yes as I grabbed onto his hand, using my good leg to help me get up. Once I put down my bad leg, however, the pain returned. The intensity was so great that I nearly fainted. I fell on my butt in agony, all my resolve now gone.

I let the tears roll down my face as I sobbed into my hands. If I couldn't even walk, there was no way that I could do ballet. The last thing that I needed was some ankle injury two months away from the showcase. I had no clue how long I would have to sit out of dance.

Two hands scoop around me as I was swept off the floor. I looked up to see Christopher carrying me bridal style out of the room. He nimbly navigated the hallways as if I weighed nothing.

"Where are we going?" I choked out in between sobs

"We're going to the athletic trainer. She always helps when one of the players gets injured."

I nodded my head, not wanting to talk more than I needed to. The throbbing in my ankle intensified as it began to turn red and swollen. I buried my head in his shirt, wetting it with my tears. When we finally reached the athletic trainer's office, his shirt had a large wet patch on it.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly when he put me down, spotting the stain on his shirt.

We walked into the office only to find that it was empty. He set me down on the plastic bed, grabbing an icepack from the fridge and an ankle wrap from a cabinet. He moved swiftly through the office, seeming to know where everything was.