Chasing you | ✓

Chapter 20 - Are you mad at me?

Come to the fourth floor studios after your last class.

I paused the plastic fork mid-air, dropping a slice of lettuce back into my Ceasar salad container. I frowned at my phone, trying to decipher the meaning of the text. 

Who is this?

The reply came instantly.

Jack.

How did you get my number?

Freddy.

I rolled my eyes at the single-word replies and stuffed a large crouton into my mouth. Glancing around the lawn as I chewed the crispy bread, I mulled over a reply. A frisbee flew through the air nearby, before getting caught by a guy casually raising his hand into the air. 

What a show-off.

What was that about fourth floor?

I turned my face up to the sun as I waited for Jack's reply. The rays warmed up my face and my arms, leaving my whole body tingling. A slight gust of wind drew by, reminding me that summer was coming to a close even in California. 

I got my last class there today. We could practice our performance after.

I closed the salad container and stretched out my legs. Lunch was almost over and I needed to head back to the dance studio for my afternoon ballet class. 

What if I already had plans today?

Please.

Jack's reply sent sparks of irritation through my gut. I clenched my teeth and quickly typed a reply.

I have friends, you know.

More important than work?

I unclenched my jaw. Okay, he had a point.

~ ~ ~

Jack hadn't specified which studio on the fourth floor his class was in, but I followed the slow bouncing of music down the hall. One of the studios had the door propped up and when the music momentarily paused I could hear a male voice from inside.

"Let's take it from the top!"

The music started over again as I reached the open door. The slow beats of R&B and an edgy male voice came through the built-in speakers. Was it—? Yeah. The voice was singing about sex. What else?

I crossed my arms and watched the class as they moved in unison. Jack was one of the people at the front of the class, close to the mirrors. His eyes were trained forward when he moved, probably checking his own reflection in the mirror. He was wearing black Adidas sweats and a large black hoodie that flopped up and down at his sides as he moved. 

The routine almost looked cool when they all moved together to the beats. But as a duo? They would look ridiculous. I had to stop myself from facepalming at the thought of me and Jack jumping around on our own like that in front of the judges, flailing our arms around. 

I clicked my tongue. This would not do. 

So much of the routine was movement with the arms. In my eyes, they looked more like children playing around than professional dancers. Their sneakers squeaked against the floor as they moved around. 

That was another thing I couldn't wrap my head around. Sneakers? Since when were sneakers appropriate footwear for dancing?

None of this had any semblance of elegance. I instantly started missing the ballet class I had just left.