Did you ever leave?

10

Three years ago...

'I'll give you credit: hiring out the room was a good idea.'

'We need all the practice we can get,' he mumbled.

'Yeah,' I agreed, lamely.

I watched myself in the mirror while I practiced some of my tricks.

'You're fucking us over,' he suddenly blurted.

'Sorry?' I asked, unsure I'd heard him right.

'The drinking and the late nights and the guys...it's taking time away from our rehearsal time.'

He wasn't wrong. I'd been missing our daily practice sessions that we'd do in his yard to hang with Eden, which usually involved a little alcohol and, yes, some boys. Usually, but not always.

I didn't want to argue with him, though, because we'd done enough of that recently.

'Look, I'm sorry. I am. But I'm not trying to sabotage us, I'm just trying to have a good time. Chill.'

'Milo, you're better than this.' His face displayed his feelings.

'I don't need the disappointed dad act, okay? Can we just practice the routine?'

He walked over to me and took my hand, spinning me around. We ran through the dance until he had to pull me to him.

We paused, breathless, and looked at each other.

Oh.

Um...

I searched his eyes.

Am I feeling something right now?

I think I'm feeling something right now.

'Anthony,' I whispered.

'I just need to try something.'

'A-'

'Just let me try something.'

And then he kissed me.

——————

Present day

I reshuffled my playlist, waiting for inspiration to strike.

Nothing.

I sighed and shuffled again.

Not a thing.

In a fit of frustration, I hit my desk and repeatedly stomped my feet on the ground. 'Fuck!'

How am I supposed to pull a whole new dance out of my ass when I'm at a complete loss for ideas? Usually I'll put on a song and start envisioning what I want, but today I was dry.

I couldn't believe he'd been so immature. Using his veto eight days into learning the routine was going to ruin us. I doubt we'll make it onto the second week. My "career" is over before it even began.

'Knock knock,' Ethan said, chapping the doorframe.

'You may as well enter since I don't have a door.'

He stepped inside and started studying my wall of awards, picking some medals up off the hooks and tracing the engravings. His eyes moved as he read trophy after trophy, medal after medal. I drank him in, my eyes travelling over every little part of him. He was entranced and so was I, so I gulped and turned back, opening my notebook.

'What're you working on?'

His shadow fell over my page and I pushed back my hair. 'A new dance.'