had everything put away by now.
"I guess we should head to our first class. Wanna walk down together?" I asked.
"We might as well. Ready to get the shit kicked out of our bodies?" Kingsley asked, still texting on her phone.
Her words were true. Ballet was intense on your body, and after years of dancing, my body had taken a ton of abuse.
"Absolutely!" I responded excitedly.
I hadn't danced in the last two days and already my body was beginning to feel the absence. She shook her head in response. She seemed annoyed that I was looking forward to our first class, but I couldn't conceal it. I was finally at my dream school, doing what I'd dreamt of all my life.
Kingsley was far from the girl who would wear pink tutus and perfectly coifed hair buns, but I had a feeling once I got to know her better, her cold attitude would melt away and we would become friends. At least, I hoped we would.
When we arrived, we walked to the back of the room. The studio was spacious, able to easily fit all of the boys and girls in the class. One entire wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the gorgeous skyline. There were two barres, one position in front of the large window and the other against the right wall.
As we walked, several eyes followed our steps, judging our every move. My eyes roamed the class, glancing at the faces of my fellow peers. There had to be at least twenty students in the room, and I immediately became nervous, seeing just how many students I'd have to outshine. Shock traveled through my body as my gaze fell on a familiar face. The guy who had approached me this morning stared back at me with the same crooked grin.
My body felt faint when I saw him, but I needed to control my emotions, knowing he would easily notice my rosy cheeks and blotchy skin. His ego would inflate if he knew I found him even remotely attractive.
As bad as it was sizing up a person I didn't know, my instincts were usually correct. As we eyed each other, I felt Kingsley bump my right shoulder, capturing my attention.
"Do you know him or something? The way you two were staring at each other, I could have sworn you've slept together," Kingsley said with optimism in her voice.
"We met earlier. He seems extremely self-centered." I sat on the ground and pulled out my shoes.
"Those stares you were giving each other were hotter than the last porno I watched," she divulged.
Kingsley joined me on the ground to put on her own shoes.
"That tidbit of information was not necessary," I told her. "I just hope I don't get partnered with him."
We both stood up just as the teacher walked into the classroom.
"Greetings. Welcome to Juilliard. My name is Madame Dampier. I will be teaching you this quarter, along with a few guest choreographers. My class will not be easy, and if you are not able to keep up, I will not hesitate to bring attention to your shortcomings. You're representing Juilliard, and Juilliard demands perfection."
I was fully aware of the difficult training that would be involved while attending Juilliard, but as many years as I'd been dancing, hearing this teacher and her demand for excellence was much scarier than my mother's.
"To get started, I'd like you all to perform a ninety-second solo, so I'm able to see technique. After everyone has performed, I'll assign dance partners. We'll start with the As and go down the list." Madame Dampier motioned for the students to spread out, making a large gap in the center of the room.
The classical music started playing, and the first student began dancing. Watching the girl dance, I could see the incredible talent she had. No longer was I one of the most talented, and it terrified me. My last name started with a B, so it wasn't long until it was my turn. For some reason, I felt apprehensive about beginning, knowing the guy I had met earlier would be watching me. I took a deep breath, starting in first position. I didn't have much time to prove myself, but I hoped my performance was enough to show the teacher I belonged here. I eased into some of my favorite moves, making sure to point my feet and showcase my lines perfectly.
"Great job ..." The teacher's eyes scanned her clipboard. "Natalia Brooks. Next up, Samson Callahan."
It's him. Preppy Boy.
Before he began,