In the Air (The City Book 1) - By Crystal Serowka Page 0,50

turned back to them. "I'm going to assume you two know the basics of the Pas de Deux routine from The Nutcracker?"

They nodded their heads in unison. I know that dance too, Avery, and I'm probably better at it than you.

"Samson, please show us the first thing you should do in this dance," she requested.

"I would offer Avery my hand." Samson reached his right hand out to take hers and Avery stepped forward with her left foot, giving Samson her left hand. "Now her arm will extend and remain at chest level." While standing on pointe, Avery's arm extended, illustrating beautiful lines. "Once she reaches full extension, I step into her and rotate our hands around her head," Samson slowly spun Avery around, interpreting the move perfectly. "Her hand will now come down onto the top of my shoulder, and my left arm will stretch up and out to the side."

Avery's leg lifts were excellent, making me doubt my own talent. They looked great together, and I hoped Samson wasn't wishing he had her as a partner instead.

"Perfection." Madame Dampier ordered the class to practice what was demonstrated with their own partners.

When Samson walked to the back of the room, I exhaled, trying my best to remain professional while here.

"How'd I do?" he asked lightheartedly.

"Let's just get this over with." I stood in front of him, my feet in position. When his arm reached out for my hand, I wanted to swat it away, but knew the teacher's eyes were roaming the room. I am a skilled ballet dancer. I don't let anything hold me back, I silently repeated to myself. Our hands joined and I felt the sudden familiar heat rise in my body.

"Natalia, I don't know what you're mad about. I'm sure whatever you've imagined is wrong." We continued on with the Pas de Deux, repeating the steps each time.

"Whatever happened is none of my business." He twirled me around. "I hope you two had a good night together."

Before I had the chance to mount my hand on his shoulder, he dropped his position and pulled me into this chest.

"Stop it." Irritation showed on his face. "You automatically think the worst before I have a chance to explain. Is it because you don't want to know the truth?"

"It's because you don't tell the truth!" We were the only two not dancing in the class, and I was sure Madame Dampier would be outraged if she spotted us. "Can we please just continue this simple routine? I'd rather not get in trouble," I insisted.

"This is ridiculous," Samson gently pushed me away, shaking his head. "I don't need this." He began walking away, but I stopped him.

"Don't make a scene," I demanded.

"You care so much about what everyone thinks, don't you? Could you ever be happy knowing that people weren't happy with you?"

With Samson's accurate analysis, I let him go.

He walked to the front of the class, whispering something to Madame Dampier, before grabbing his gym bag and leaving the room. I looked over at Kingsley, her face filled with confusion. I acknowledged by lifting my shoulders. A deep-rooted pang grasped my stomach. Maybe I was being too dramatic. Like Samson said, I didn't even allow him to explain. I was used to being played, and Samson might have been different, but I was too stubborn to believe it.

I might have just ruined our chances.

"Why won't you answer my calls?"

"Please don't ignore me, Samson."

"We need to talk."

"I'm sorry."

Those were just four of the texts Natalia had sent me in the span of two days. I faked my own sickness to avoid her and opted not go wherever I thought she would be. It was probably childish of me, but it wasn't just her reaction about Aubrey that set me off. She had assumed everything I had said to her was a lie. Since I'd been misjudged my entire life, the irritation ran deep. Every text Natalia sent, I ignored, until she sent one that couldn't go unanswered.

Natalia picked up on the first ring. "Samson, I've been trying to get in touch with you. Madame Dampier is freaking out, she–"

I cut Natalia off, needing to explain the thoughts that were racing through my mind. "I don't regret it," I simply stated.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Your last text message, asking if I regretted the time we've spent together. I don't regret it. Your reaction the other day pissed me off, but that doesn't mean I'd take everything back."

"Can we please