Outside the high-rise, Darius, a chestnut-skinned boy, waits. His kinky hair is brown in the sunlight. When he sees her, he beams widely. “Morning, cutie.”
Kay blushes. “Morning.” She smooches him. Darius grabs her hand. They stroll past side shops. The towering skyscrapers cut out the sun, inviting great shade. The glass surface of the towers sparkle. Noisy traffic booms from all directions. Vehicles jam up at traffic lights as far as the eye can see, puffing out gas from exhaust pipes.
The two walk along the pavement. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like a baby, thanks to your mixtape. I loved the city ambiance. Especially the piano.” Kay compliments.
“I’m glad… that one took forever. I need a studio. That way, it won’t take as long.”
“Maybe that can be a birthday present?” Kay pokes his nose, grinning wide.
“You’d be the best girlfriend if you manage to fit a studio in my place.”
“Or I can have my parents buy you a new place.” She boasts.
“Show off.” He rolls his eyes.
“You know you love it.” Her light voice teases.
Darius pulls her to his side. “I do.”
Kayla stares at her feet, overwhelmed by his affectionate gaze. I know it may be too soon… but I think I don’t just like my boyfriend. I think it’s the other L word. Kay shyly tucks her hair behind her ears, glancing up with heavy eyes. Time stands still. The tunnel vision is intense; the two don’t break contact. Pedestrians bypass them, veering to avoid a collision. Some throw them looks of irritation.
The two don’t notice; they’re locked into each other. He takes in her adorable, small features while she explores his hazel eyes. Her heart flutters. I have to tell him the other L word. I have to say it. If I can. My bashfulness always gets the best of me.
A blaring horn breaks their concentration. Darius shields Kay from the crosswalk, placing a hand before her. Vintage cars rush by, whizzing the air. “Oops.” He chuckles. “We should do that somewhere safe.”
“Agreed.” Kay nods, giggling. “Did you study for the chemistry test?”
He grits his teeth. “A little… I kind of nodded off.”
I hate it when he does this; doesn’t he care about his grades?? She fusses internally. “Uh oh.”
“It’s fine. I remember the topic. I’ll get a good enough score,” he states confidently.
Kayla grimaces. “Hopefully. We’ll be a cute valedictorian couple.”
“We would.” He pulls her close to his side. “Maybe I can come over tonight to study?”
“I wish…my parents won’t be home. So that’s a no.”
“They’re busy again?”
The traffic sign turns red; a walking figure glows. They cross with dozens of others. “Dad has new cases, and Mom is closing on condos. They’re going to make it up to me. It’s no big deal.” She spots his mind calculating. Darius’s handsome face is displeased. Here he goes with his anxiety; he needs to relax. There’s no need for the lines wedging his forehead. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry.”
“Just because it’s downtown doesn’t mean it’s safe.”
“I have pepper spray.”
Darius laughs. “What? It’s a weapon; the police use it.”
“Ahh…” He groans, concerned. “Okay, how about I check the rooms?”
Kayla kisses his cheek. “Deal.”
“Since you don’t want me over.” Darius pouts.
“It’s not that…” she sighs, rolling her eyes.
“Then what is it?”
“I’m a bad liar. If I make up a story, my mom will see right through it. You’re only supposed to be over when they are, remember?”
“They won’t find out if I leave before they get home….”
“You’re a bad influence, sir.” She pokes in a British accent. The couple reach an all-glass dance studio. The main door is etched with silver letters, which read: STUDIO DOLL. Darius opens it for her. “Why, thank you, good sir.” She continues to mock the regal accent.
Inside there are grand hallways of crown molding and white walls. Kay and Darius venture past empty ballrooms. The white floors glimmer like fire. The ballroom is full of wall mirrors. The golden hue from the skylight above gives a dreamy effect. I love this place. It’s my second home. Most days I’m here prepping for the stage. It’s overkill, but practice makes perfect. Kay presses down the needle of a record player. A lovely string instrumental circulates the fancy room. Her cream ballet shoes prance across the floor, flightlessly maneuvering.
The tips of her shoes swirl, straight as a brick. Her lean body churns with a wide wingspan. Her tiny hands rest on her waist, intense. Kay’s brows crease while holding the position. She breathes deeply. Okay, keep a straight back, low shoulders, and relaxed muscles, the teen reminds herself. Don’t lose your footing!
Darius chuckles. “Smile. You have to do that for the crowd.”
“I know.” A frown plasters her heart-shaped face. “I’m focusing….” She waltzes in a three-step stride, brushing pretty shoes over the floor with ease before extending a leg. Steady stride, stay on beat. One, two, three, she mentally instructs. Next is a pirouette. Heel to the opposite toe in an X shape, arms arched at her side, stretching out one leg, then her arms. Now with the opposite leg, bent, one arm curved and the other out straight. This forms into a plié, a bend of both legs leading to a spin, landing in a wide lunge.
Her tutu floats majestically. Kayla prances, floating on air, performing a music box dancer move. Toes high against a straight leg, one arm posted above her head and the other resting near her chest. She pauses, breathing deeply. Her shoulder, abdominal, calf, and hamstrings overwork. Good, keep going!
She shifts her body into five fouettés, kicking a leg out with each full circle. Kay breezes on, completing a choreography segment: arabesque, assemblé, attitude, penché. Her shadow marks the floor with glides, twists, and poses. There’s no ice below, yet she skates. The duplicate in the mirror is right on her tail.
The instrumental wraps to an end; the only sound within the room are her shoes tapping. She disapproves of how late her left foot is, so she tries again, sure to have a firmer hold.
ns216.73.216.247da2
