Football and Ballet - Jason Collins Page 0,5

did. “Don’t worry about it. I know how to fix interesting. Now, get in first position.”

Hunter offered me a blank expression as he silently shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t think I know what that is.”

“It’s… okay just…” I pointed down to his feet before I went on. “Make sure both of your feet are pointing outward, with the tips of your toes. And then, you bring your arms down to your waist—”

“Like this?” Hunter straightened his feet, keeping them right next to each other.

I couldn’t hide the grin on my face. “Not exactly. Your feet should be pointed outward, like this.”

I instinctively went into first position as I spoke. “See? Just like this.”

“Got it. I think.” Hunter copied me exactly, plus an added strain on his expression.

“Okay. Good. We can go from there.”

“Look at the wall, look at the wall, look at the wall…” I murmured as I watched Hunter spin across the dance floor, his legs stumbling as he tried to keep his arms in place around his sides.

When Hunter reached the other side of the room he placed his hands on the wall, clearly trying to steady himself. “What the hell? How do dancers spin around all day without getting dizzy? Rehearsals must be just one big barf session.”

“Dancers usually look at the wall they’re spinning toward,” I explained as I stared over at him. “Which is why I kept telling you to look at the wall, but I guess perhaps you’re a little too used to doing whatever you want.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that the only people you probably listen to are Elana and your football coach,” I suggested. “Which is fine, and usually suits you perfectly. But when you’re in my dance studio, you’re going to need to listen to me, or else your dance practices will turn into barf sessions.”

“I was listening to you,” he insisted. “It’s just hard to follow your instructions while also trying to keep down my lunch.”

“No excuses,” I offered before nodding toward the other side of the room. “Do it again. Find a spot on the wall. Spin until you reach the other side.”

“Is this just supposed to be torture or something?” Hunter groaned. “When do we get to the actual dancing part?”

“This is the actual dancing part, Mr. Perry. And you’re lucky I’m starting you off on spins. I usually start my classes off on kicks and jazz squares, but I think spinning might be as much as you can take for one day.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I think I’m getting it.” Hunter moved away from the wall. “You’re like a tough coach. You’re trying to break me down and put me through hell so I can be a better dancer in the end.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m putting you through hell.” I sighed. “If I was putting you through hell, you’d be so exhausted you wouldn’t be able to speak.”

“Jesus.” Hunter blew out a heavy breath. “Is ballet dancing really that serious?”

“Do you think it’s easy because you’ve only seen girls doing it?”

“That’s not what I said—”

“Sure, but it’s what you meant.” I cut him off as I continued. “Guys should stick to guy stuff, right?”

“That’s not fair.” Hunter narrowed his eyes in my direction. “That whole thing was taken completely out of context—”

“Fine. Put it in context for me then.”

“I wasn’t laughing at what Brandon said. I was laughing because one of the other guys…” A smile cracked across Hunter’s expression as he spoke. “Fuck. I was laughing because one of my other teammates was falling all over himself, right after talking about how smooth he’d been on a date with a girl. It was just so funny—” Hunter’s smile turned into a laugh, interrupting his response. “It was just… I don’t know. Maybe you had to be there.”

“So, you really weren’t laughing at that asshole’s comments? About male cheerleaders?”

“Fuck no.” Hunter’s laughter came to an end. “But the truth doesn’t really matter, does it? People saw what they wanted to see, and now I’m benched until it blows over.”

“Oh.” I placed my hands on either side of my waist. “Well, I’m sorry about that, Hunter. Seriously. I guess I got caught up in all the headlines. I’m just so used to guys like you thinking less of guys like me, it just made sense—”

“Guys like me?” Hunter pressed. “Patrick, you don’t even know me.”

“I knew enough guys like you, back in high school,” I explained. “The kind of guy who’d call me gay behind my back, like