Downfall [h.s]

↞ Chapter 11 ↠

"Daisy, you're late."

I cringed, offering up an apologetic smile. I had been trying to sneak into my dance class and I thought I was being successful but apparently not. It didn't help that all eyes were on me, the only latecomer, when I snuck in. Even so, it was like the woman had eyes on the back of her head... and a mirror in front of her reflecting my poor sneaking skills but still. "Sorry Mrs. Bellamy."

"Don't let it happen again."

I rushed to a free spot and fell into step with everyone else. It didn't take me long to catch up with everyone since in the ten minutes that I had missed they had only gotten to the middle of their stretches.

I had Toby to blame for being late. And even though it was technically both our faults, I had no issue giving him full responsibility for my tardiness. We had ended up taking too much time at the coffee shop. What was supposed to just be a quick treat ended up being a much longer conversation. The two of us just got on really well, and there was never a lull between us. Even the silences, the few that occurred, were comfortable and short. He somehow knew exactly how to cheer me up after such an irritating conversation with Mr. S. Our personalities just clicked so well, it was so easy to lose a sense of time when I was with him.

But by the time I had looked down at my watch, the time I should have left for the studio had passed by ten minutes. Whatever fun we were having quickly cut short. The two of us had to scramble out of the shop and sprint back to the school. But even with my dancer's body and the fact that I went running often, I was definitely not dressed for a run with my sandals. Not to mention the fact that one of Toby's strides equaled two of mine, which meant that I had to run twice as fast to keep up.

So, thinking logically, Toby stopped and threw me over his shoulder. He carried me the rest of the way to school, at a full sprint might I add, like he didn't have an extra 140 pounds weighing him down. Despite the fact that I was inevitably going to show up late, and Mrs. Bellamy didn't have any tolerance for tardiness, I couldn't stop laughing the entire way there. Of course we had gotten a lot of strange looks from passerbys, but I was having too much fun to really care.

When we finally did get to my car, I barely had time to thank him for such a great time. I never really hung out with anyone other than my immediate friend group so it was really nice getting to spend some one on one time with him. So I felt bad taking off without really giving him an actual good bye, but I knew he understood. He lived the life of having to rush to practice and would probably do the same to me if he were running late, which made me feel a little better about running off.

By the end of class I was already feeling the euphoria of a good work out. This was why I loved dance. It was such a good way to stay healthy and wasn't as boring as a normal work out.

Sweaty, panting, and high off endorphins, I got ready to meet with my next class. This one was advanced contemporary for ages 13-16. Not as cute as teaching 6 year olds' but probably more fun. Most of the kids in the class had been with me for a while, so it was great watching them grow into young dancers. A few of them were new, a couple were transfers from another class that wasn't able to meet at a time that was convenient for them. One of them I had never met before but was accompanied by a very familiar face.

"Mr. West? What are you doing here?" I asked, giving him a confused look. A young girl, I would guess 13, in a green leotard and black spandex shorts walked up behind him. She shared the same eyes as him and the same hair color, which led me to believe that this was probably his daughter.

"My daughter Charlotte is joining your dance class. She had been in Mrs. Bellamy's contemporary class but she hadn't been able to make it to class on time because of gymnastics. Your's was the only one available. I hope that's okay?" He explained, placing his hand on his daughter's shoulder. She gave me a hopeful look, as if she was afraid I'd turn her down.